So Far Behind - But, Life is Fun!

Wow, what started out as a way to keep our far away family and friends updated on Chet has to make them wonder what is going on. We've been horrible on updating this and I promise that we will try harder.

So many things have happened in the last few months, Chet turned 5, Coy and I celebrated our 10th Anniversary, Chet sang a solo in the school talent show - the only Pre-K kid to perform...imagine that. Chet flew on a plane and saw the beach....but, the one thing that remains consistent is how fast he's growing up, yet reminding us daily that he loves life. I can't explain how it feels when out of nowhere Chet comes up and says, "Mom, can I tell you something?" And, of course, I say yes, (not that I haven't attempted to say no just to get a reaction out of him) but after I say yes, he says, "I surrrrrre do love you!" At that moment, NOTHING else matters!

Coy and I try to remind ourselves often how lucky we are to have Chet and each other as well. The bottom line is, we definitely have the same stresses that everyone else has, but we have them together and you know what, "Life is Fun!" More on the simple things that make my life fun in another post....soon to follow....I promise! marti

Just Happened To Be In The Neighborhood

In 1974, while attending the University of Oklahoma, I pledged a fraternity. Now, this was not a scholastic fraternity, in which participation is generally designed to enhance the educational process. No, on the contrary; mine was a "social" fraternity. And, while there truly was a lot of "motivation" by the older members of the "Frat House," to study and achieve great academic achievement, much of our time was spent learning how to "socialize." And, I dare say that we were as good at socializing, as the University's football team was at winning National Championships.

So, when it came to learning the socialization process, I competed extra hard in order to out perform the other members of my Pledge Class. The days I spent within the Alpha Tau Omega Fraternity House, were some of the finest times of my life. I have plenty of "Party Pics" (photographs used to blackmail aspiring politicians) to prove it, too. These include a wide variety of unusual costumes, outrageous antics, and extraordinary personal skills. Even today, as I study some of my old fraternity snapshots, I am led to believe that much of the activity occurred as the result of 'out-of-body' experiences.

There are some opponents who would argue that the ATO House would have been better described as the "Animal House," than a residence where young men would learn to aspire to greatness. Hey, I am not about to argue with them. Maybe it had something to do with the number of kegs being propelled off of the second story roof, or perhaps it was due to the repeated violations of the City's Fire Code. Better yet, it may have had a lot to do with our repeated run-ins with the University's (and the City of Norman's) "Finest." Hint: the Finest wore guns and badges and their cars were louder and went much faster than ours.......

Well, through it all, I was somehow able to graduate with a four year degree. And, besides managing to dodge the bullet for at least a dozen times or more, I was pleased with my ability to differentiate between foreign and domestic beer. So, I was ready to begin the employment phase. Interestingly enough, I became a police officer. I felt like I owed it to society, since I had caused the law enforcement profession so much grief during my tenure at the Alpha Tau Omega Fraternity.

It's hard to believe, but 32 years have passed since I stepped across the stage, shook hands with the University President, toasted my frat brothers, and bid the Sooner Nation good-bye. So, when I received a recent letter from the ATO Alumni Association, requesting alumni presence at a current ATO Fraternity event, I felt obliged to respond to Norman, Oklahoma. My wife kissed me good luck, I hugged my four-year old, and drove from my residence, realizing that I might never see my family again. After all, just as the official correspondence indicated, this was an Alpha Tau Omega event, and it said something about 50 current active members, a bar-b-que and poker. "God," I thought, "please don't make me drink again."

When I pulled into the ATO parking lot, I observed signs that things hadn't changed much in the past 32 years. There were guys sitting in chairs, on top of the fraternity house roof, and practically everyone was celebrating the Sooner's basketball win over Texas A&M; and that wasn't cans of pop or cups filled with coffee that were being consumed. It was like stepping back into the Twilight Zone. No, it was actually better!

As I stepped into the house, several "Actives," as they are called, approached me and didn't even require the sacred handshake. Thank goodness, because I barely remembered one of the ATO Founding Fathers and forget ever recalling the secret squirrel password that is intended to be whispered from one member's ear to another. Instead, I said "Bud", and they replied, "Light", and things couldn't have contained more ritual.

The "Active" Officers crowded around me and wanted to know what traditions they could bring back from the 70's (20Th Century) and I know they were disappointed, because much of our former traditions had to do with physical hazing, which is frowned upon these days. Truthfully, they don't need to worry about updating traditions. They are still upholding some of the more prevalent ones, which involve studying the chemical reaction during the fermentation process, meeting plenty of sorority members, and sharing a passion for hanging out at the fraternity house.

I quickly found that a few of the older guys from my dinosaur period, had dropped by the house, expressed respects, and headed back home. Not me, I had some catching up to do. Because, even though most of these guys were about 36 years younger than me, they were still my fraternity brothers, and I shared with them a certain bond that some people will never understand. And, that was apparent when they immediately made me feel at home, acquired a drink for me, called me "Bro" instead of "Pops" and demanded that I join them in a friendly game of "dice". And from there, we proceeded over to two different apartment complexes, and "closed" a popular bar along Campus Corner. All along the way, I had a tremendous time. Besides teaching me how to play "beer pong" and an assortment of other strategically challenging drinking games, the guys were all very accommodating and I was pleased that I had decided to join them, after so many years of being away from the University. Besides, everyone that knows me, realizes that I am still pretty young at heart, and it was good for me to reflect upon where I began my lifelong journey.

There is a saying I have heard, in which people insist, "You can never go back," making reference to the fact that things are never the same as when you did them before. I don't necessarily buy into that. I often go back. If, for no other reason, than to remind myself how important things were to me then, and why they need to remain important to me now. And, check this out. The morning after returning home to my wife and little boy, I discovered a voice mail message on my cell phone. It was from one of the "Active" ATO Members, Johnathon H., and he informed me that the "Actives" had held a Fraternity Chapter House Meeting and during a vote determined I was the "ATO Brother of the Week." While I am extremely honored by the gesture of their thoughtfulness, I am still a little annoyed that I lost at "beer pong". Sometime in the not so distant future, I am going back, a-gin. Get ready boys, this time your older brother will have his game face on; and I expect everyone to know the identity of my "Big" and my "Little" or it's "toes and elbows time, Gentlemen!"

Chet Is Ready For Summer of 2008 SHOWDEO Schedule

This story begins way back when I was barely seven years old. For it was at that time that my Grandfather brought home my first horse, a Shetland Pony named, "Pete". He had named him after a Tulsa bail bondsman named, Pete King, who was frequently used by our family to bail certain members out of the Tulsa County Jail. (That's another story, and I will gladly write about it when I get the time and the energy to provide all of the background. It's rather complicated, but entirely true and entertaining.)

Well, "Pete the Pony" took me through the formative stages of my cowboy youth, and if you have ever been around Shetland Ponies, then you know why it is today that I am pretty capable of handling most horses. So, now that I have a little boy of my own, I wanted him to have the same opportunities of experiencing the joys of owning his own horse, just as I did, growing up on a small ranch in northeast Oklahoma.

During this last summer Chet was riding his horse, "TEE," when something unusual occurred. "TEE is a little large for Chet and when I bought her, I thought he would be able to handle her without any problems. Well, I was wrong.

Chet was participating in a rodeo "Playday" for little buckaroos, when his horse, "TEE", for no logical reason, began to "crow hop." For you "green horns" that don't spend much time riding horses, a "crow hop" is a slight bucking of the horse, which sometimes ends up with the cowboy on the ground. Thus was the situation with Chet Jenkins, for he not only ended up on the ground, he bounced backwards off the saddle, was propelled through the air, and struck the arena dirt with a loud and provoking, "thud." While this little experience did not waver our little cowpoke, Daddy and Mommy decided that we needed a smaller horse for the Chet man.

Although my Grandfather, Clifford Jenkins, passed away several years ago, I am convinced that he continues to take care of me in the most peculiar ways. It doesn't bother me if you don't believe it or not, but he truly provides for my family and I. And, just as he provided me with "Pete," I know that he was the inspiration in locating a new pony for little Chet. And this is how it all happened.

I got up one morning, a few weeks before Christmas, and told Marti that we needed to begin an all out search for just the right horse for Chet. We didn't especially desire a Shetland, and we knew that the horse needed to be about 12 or 13 hands high, at least eight years old, and most of all, "dead broke." We knew that just locating such a horse would be a huge undertaking, much like finding a needle in a haystack, and I expected it to take several months and a whole bunch of money.

Well, believe it or not, on that very day I happened to drop by "Drysdale's Western Store," in preparation for Christmas holiday shopping. As I walked into the store I casually glanced at the bulletin board that maintains all types of classified and personal ads. There, among all of the advertisements for puppy dogs, stock trailers, baby sitters, and upcoming rodeo events, was a picture of a pony. I took a closer look and noticed that a couple was selling a small horse that was considered a part of their family. The advertisement had been placed on the Internet, so I suspected the little guy was long gone. He was 13 hands high, barely twelve years old, had been rodeoed on for several years, and was originally used as a part of a summer youth camp program. "Whatever," I thought, "that horse was probably sold a year ago and the lousy Drysdale's staff isn't sharp enough to clean up their outdated advertisements." But, just in case, I decided to telephone the number. Yeah, you're not going to believe this either. The ad had barely been posted, the pony was still for sale, and as it turned out, the owner and I were somewhat acquainted because of our jobs!

Long story short, "Colonel" the horse was purchased and he remained on the owner's property until Christmas Eve, when I snuck him home and placed him in our barn. We didn't give Chet any idea that Santa Clause was preparing to bring him a new horse; one that was quite a bit smaller than his "TEE" horse, who sort of bucked him off, which had left him somewhat annoyed.

On Christmas morning, after Chet had opened all of his presents, I stepped outside and found a sleigh bell laying on the front lawn. I yelled for Chet to come outside and together we began to find more and more of these sleigh bells scattered across the lawn. Chet raced along and methodically retrieved each and every one. All of a sudden the bells led directly to the barn, where he immediately noticed "TEE" comfortably inside her stall eating holiday oats and hay. But, Chet noticed something else, which was rather peculiar. There, in the stall next to "TEE's," was a new horse, one that Chet had never seen before. Let's just say for time's sake, that all of us were overcome with emotion. I have never witnessed such a surprised look on my little boy's face. It was worth everything we did to prepare for this special Christmas present.

These days "Colonel" has become known as "RIO" and practically runs the entire Jenkins household. He is very easy with Chet, loves to play with me at feeding time, and simply annoys the heck out of Marti. "RIO" is, without a doubt, one of the most incredible horses I have ever known. As far as holidays I have known, this will have been one of my most memorable Christmas' ever. And, I owe it all to my Grandfather, who brought home "Pete" when I was seven and made it all possible for me to bring home, "Colonel," when his great grandson was just four years old. I love you and know you were there on Christmas morning.

Happy New Year!!!!!!

OK, so, I am a bit late on this post. In fact, I'm simply late about posting in general. So much for my "we are going to try to update this weekly" plan. However, I think I can explain. You see, I have had an attitude of "if you can't blog something nice, then don't blog anything at all" type of a mindset. It all started with my Thanksgiving post, that's the time of the year that I get a bit....well, let's just say, not very nice. The entire commercialism aspect of Christmas drives me nuts. Well, yes, I'll admit, I love to shop for presents and yes, I even love to receive....I just want it to be meaningful. I do try very hard to put some love & thought into presents we buy for others. I can't say this exactly happened the way I wanted this year, but I don't think that was because of my "bad mood" about the holidays funk I got into, but more so the fact that I ran out of time as well as the "you try to tell Chet at this age that the tv commercials are a BUNCH of hype" and that Christmas should be more meaningful than that. I was definitely at many stores trying to find the "Red Fire Boat" that Chet just had to have....which incidentally turned out to be our first, or should I say, my first Lego toy and hopefully this will not become a favorite hobby for me. Had I known that I would be required to build "the boat," I might have paid Santa to explain to Chet that it was not really what he want.
December was simply a strange month. But, when it comes down to it, we survived and quite honestly had a great time. If you are reading this from somewhere local, I need to say absolutely nothing about the ice storm we had, if you are reading this from afar, WOW, is about all I can say. We were without power here in our home for 10 days, while many in this area were without for nearly 3 weeks, so we felt lucky. And, as you can imagine, Coy, Chet and I had a great time, not to say that it was easy, and not to say that I didn't cry more than once during that time...but, we had a great time. I could have benefited from some sunlight during the days, but the nights were beautiful here, you could step outside and other than a few generators you'd hear in the distance, it was silent and the stars were magnificent....and, we were thankful. We were thankful we had each other, thankful we are healthy and thankful that we chose a different career than working for the power companies and road crews. There is not enough thanks in the world for what these people and their families gave up to get power back to everyone!
So, while I'm being nice and thankful in this post, let me end it by saying Happy New Year 2007 from the Jenkins' and let me get back to posting more important things than my bad attitude! Marti

Happy Thanksgiving 2007

Today has been a wonderful day, especially when Chet spent the day going back and forth from Coy and I telling each of us how much he loves us. We basically spent a quiet calm day at home and I think Chet enjoyed having both of us here at the same time without having to rush off anywhere. At one point this afternoon, Chet looked at me and said, "Mom, this was the BEST Thanksgiving ever." Of course, that made my day, so I have to agree it ranks up in the Top 3 for me. I think that's all I want to say today, everything else I start to type makes me a bit too emotional and missing people. So, with that, I am soooooooo very thankful for everyone in my life, my family, me friends and those people that I don't know but work extremely hard to make sure my family and I are healthy and protected. As we go through the holidays, slow down and look around yourself, smile at all the things you have to be thankful for. Go out of your way to be kind and thoughtful and when life throws a little inconvenience your direction, shake it off, there are bigger and more important things in life. Oh, and I know those aren't exactly Thanksgiving pictures, but in a way they are, they make me smile and I am definitely thankful for each of them, my Mom, my Dad, Chetty and Coy. With Love, Marti

Chet Wins His First Rodeo Trophy Buckle

It's official, Chet acquired his first rodeo trophy buckle, and he did it as four-year-old. Of course, like any other athletic competition, it came as the result of a lot of personal attributes, and having the right kind of equipment.

As Hop-A-Long Cassidy had "Topper", Roy Rogers had "Trigger", and Gene Autry had "Champion", Chet's recent success is due in part to his faithful companion, "TEE", the Wonder Horse. A registered fifteen-year-old Quarter Horse mare, "TEE", is actually named "Catalpa Cicely", and possesses bloodlines originating back to some outstanding 'foundation horses' including "Doc Bar" and "Poco Hondo". "TEE" stands about 15 and 1/2 hands tall and is a 'finished' roping horse. And, when Chet's not using her for his "play days" (junior rodeos), Coy is either improving personal skills in the team roping event, or using her in conjunction with the Sheriff's Office. That's because "TEE" was recently selected to be a part of the prestigious Mounted Horse Patrol. The selection process is rigorous, and requires a particular demeanor and handling, which most horses are not capable of obtaining. Chet thinks his horse is capable of arresting "bad-guys", and other than not being able to place the cuffs on them, he's not too awfully wrong.

Chet, Coy, Marti, and "TEE" completed several "Play Days" throughout a period of time that began in April of this year and extended into the month of September. Because Chet is still learning to ride, he competed in three rodeo events, "pole bending", "barrel racing", and "flag racing". All three competitions were accomplished by a "lead line" process, in which Chet hangs on to the saddle and Coy "leads" the horse through the pole and barrel patterns. Chet would hang on for 'dear life', because at times, "TEE" could reach speeds, which actually had her galloping through the patterns. Even though Coy is leading "TEE" with a lead rope, which is attached to her halter, the competition is quite fierce. It often requires Coy, along with the other kids' parents, to run as fast as possible in front of their horse, in order to acquire a good time. A stopwatch is the official time keeping device.

With that, let's just say the summer months were not smooth ones for our little cowpoke, and the long trail to Chet acquiring his buckle were plagued with a few interruptions. Just as any other athlete will attest to, certain things, well out of an individual's control, can often occur. Some people call it bad luck, others refer to it as "Murphy's Law", but I choose to think it has a lot to do with how the sun, the moon, and the stars align. And Chet's "Play Days" were an astronomical nightmare. Take for instance the afternoon that "TEE" (the not so Wonder Horse), decided to start bucking as we were headed across the rodeo arena for the first barrel! Chet may have gotten his first trophy buckle, but much more significant than that, he experienced his first 'saddle bronc' attempt. While the landing was not the "purtiest", the chewing Chet gave "TEE" after the fact, was darn worth the price of admission.

To make things worse, Chet, "TEE", and I, had not considered my knee surgery into the rodeo recipe, either. An old snow skiing injury decided to raise its ugly head about the same time that the three of us were needing to put some good times up on the board. The annoying pain I was undergoing, necessitated some arthroscopic surgery, which left the three of us wondering who was going to fill the void in my absence.

Now, Chet doesn't know it yet (I have spared him the embarrassment), but I did not exactly marry his mother for her athletic abilities. Consequently, she was not even remotely considered to fill my vacancy on the team. And following the "bucking bronco" incident, Marti and I were extremely leery about anyone else leading "TEE" through the various competitions. So, we decided to let Festus (moi), do the best he could, under the circumstances. Needless to say, our times on the stopwatch were better kept on a stop clock, because it took me about that long to limp through each pole, barrel, and flag pattern.

But the experiences we all shared as a family were more than any amount of time required to win each event. Chet, "TEE", and I placed in the top six a couple of times this summer, and Chet always managed to get a bright colored "Participatory" ribbon, whether we were limping or bucking across the arena. And Marti will never forget overhearing Chet chastising his horse, the day after the bucking incident. She looked out the window of our home and saw Chet engaged in a deep conversation with his Wonder Horse. She pressed her head against the front door and heard him say, "TEE, I forgive you, but why did you buck me off?" That was Chet's first attempt at negotiating a business contract.

And so to the "Participatory" come the spoils. We all attended the year end awards banquet and Chet received some pretty cool things, including trophies, a feed bucket, a shiny blue halter, some snacks for his horse, and a curry comb, which Chet thinks is a horse scratcher. In fact, he couldn't wait to get home and feed "TEE" a snack and scratch her. That was last night and the first thing this morning he grabbed me and we used the horse scratcher to make his horse, "TEE", feel good all over. Chet may have won the trophy buckle, but Marti and I won a whole lot more. Coy

Coy's Big Adventure

I have always had a genuine interest in music. When I was just barely seven years old, I sang, "How Much Is That Doggy In the Window", in front of our local church congregation. Now, maybe just a few years later, my fascination with the the whole music industry is better left to listening to others sing. And so, over the years I have made it a personal commitment to attend as many live concerts as is humanly possible. In doing so, I have witnessed a fairly unique genre of musical entertainment, encompassing everything from "Asleep At The Wheel" to Joan Jett and the Black Hearts, with some Van Halen, Jimmie Buffet, Willie Nelson, and even a little Marilyn Manson thrown in, to boot. But what I witnessed the other night, will go down in the antels of music history, at least as far as it concerns this here cowboy.

In Tulsa Oklahoma resides the historic and I think, majestic, "CAIN'S BALLROOM", home to the legendary Bob Wills and His Texas Playboys. While the great Bob Wills reigned in an era well before my time, I think I witnessed him roll over in his grave the other evening! That's all because a group, relatively unknown by the likes of the cowboys I run with, showed up to perform in the same building where the "King of Country Swing", made his debut and used to entertain hundreds of country swing music enthusiasts. "Their name?", you ask, "Why, none other than "INSANE CLOWN POSSE", of course!"

Now, I've never been one to second guess anybody, but my curiosity got the best of me, and Marti and I spent an evening on the computer researching their material and listening to a few of their more revelled songs. I should have known something was going to be a little different when Marti noticed on their "web page", that the "CLOWNS", as they are affectionately referred to by their groupies, is a sort of 'Hip Hop' inspired musical sensation. Other than seeing a t-shirt or two with "Insane Clown Posse" on them (and incidently, the individuals wearing the shirts were being carted off to jail), I really didn't know too much about the "ICP". So, what the heck, I decided it was in my best interest to enhance my musical appreciation. However, I should have known something was terribly wrong when Marti decided to bow out, my best friend said, "No thanks, I have got other plans", and even the most rowdiest cousin I know, commented, "You must be crazy. What's the matter with you? You must be going through some kind of 'mid-life' crisis." Well, that should have been what the FBI calls a "clue", but I was not shaken in my mission to see the "CLOWNS" in person, in Tulsa, at "Cain's Ballroom".

Now, my best friend was consciously concerned about my life. He provided me with some good insight and wished me lots of success in my endeavor. According to him, the "CLOWNS" have quite a unique following. The first thing he warned me about, was to watch out for individuals walking up to me and punching me in the face. (Apparently, this is some sort of group bonding that takes place at "Insane Clown Posse" concerts.) Secondly, he informed me about the term, "juggalo", which is what sincere "ICP" groupies refer to themselves as. Other than flirting with a possibility of being killed for a mere $35 ticket to get into the concert, I was feeling real good about my decision. Now, the next thing to do, was to decide what I was going to wear. Since my wardrobe didn't include any "ICP" t-shirts, I could either wear one of my cowboy shirts, or one of my cowboy shirts. Or, I could go really 'over-the-top' and wear one of my cowboy shirts.

Well, I had a better idea. Since this was a kind of 'clown' event, I decided to wear my rodeo clown attire. And, besides, maybe these guys would take one look at me and think, "Either this guy is totally innocent of what goes on here, or else he is one bad mamma jamma." So, I grabbed my hat, my suspenders, and a little bit of makeup (we rodeo clowns prefer to call it 'paint') and headed out for "Cain's Ballroom".

When I walked in the place, everyone, including the guys selling the official "CLOWNS" t-shirts, stopped and looked my direction. For the first time in my life, I knew what a rabbit feels like when a pack of coyotes happens by. It was like that scene in "Pee Wee Herman's Great Adventure", when Pee Wee stumbled into a biker bar, and everyone in the place stood up and somehow knew he didn't belong.

Just about that time, I'd say ten to fifteen "CLOWN" groupies approached my position and inquired, "Are you for real?" As I saw my life flash before my eyes, I quickly replied, "Yes, I understand there's a Clown Convention in town this week." The lynch mob got real quiet, looked at one another, and fell out laughing. I quickly grabbed two of them around the shoulders and proclaimed, "What's up, fellow Juggalos?" And, from that moment on, I was sort of one of the 'family'. In fact, throughout the evening, chants from the crowd, bellowing out, "FAM-I-LY!, FAM-I-LY!, FAM-I-LY!", broke the constant ear-deafening roar of the crowd, and I joined in.

I saw every "INSANE CLOWN POSSE" t-shirt imaginable, and a few others that I have no idea what they meant, but it was a concert goers paradise. And, the "CLOWNS", they were ultimately 'awesome'. And although I wasn't much into the lyrics of their songs (I prefer songs about trains, prison, mommas, getting left out in the rain......you get the picture), I loved having root beer pop sprayed all over the crowd. And, guess what, I didn't even receive an offer to get punched in the face. My wife, my best friend, and even my rowdy cousin, had better catch their next concert, because I have an idea on how we can join the "CLOWNS" back stage, but I'll need some help sneaking by 'Security'. Coy