Is the need to be frugal inherited or learned? I’ve always wondered. My mother’s family was well known, as my daddy would say, for being “tighter than Dick’s hatband.” My great grandfather Klutts would jack up his Model-T Ford and put blocks under each axel so that his tires were off the ground.

Regardless of who occupies the White House, people throughout the world recognize our President as the most influential person in the United States. International newspapers carry his photo and report on his policies, often leading their readers to believe his views are identical with those of the American people. To many nationals abroad he is the face of our nation. For years Walter Cronkite was the face of the CBS news department.

This past Sunday, I was enjoying one of my favorite programs, CBS Sunday Morning, with a cup of coffee, still in bed. I am so glad I had swallowed the last bit in my cup, or I would have surely made a mess with my sputtering and gasping. I could not believe my ears.

I was concerned about the loss of jobs for the American worker and the loss of our manufacturing base. So an attorney from Galveston created for me “The U.S. Fair Trade Foundation”, a non-profit corporation. I got literature from the Buy American Foundation in Abington, Pennsylvania and put some ads in the paper. Our trade deficit is gigantic, draining our wealth.

A bad case of the sniffles brought the need for several new boxes of tissues. With the first dab of my nose, I was transported back to the late 1950s. Puffs brand has a tissue product infused with an odor that so many of us associate with our childhoods: Vicks VapoRub. My mamma loved Vicks VapoRub and believed in its healing properties.

Because of an uncommon chest cold, I was laid low during last Sunday’s Super Bowl and unable to attend the festivities offered by good friends. My beloved Sky King was not at all happy about spending the evening with his hapless spouse who couldn’t speak a word without barking like a Beagle.

Part One in series of four The Beacon welcomes HSB resident Dan Farmer to its writing family. Mr. Farmer will be offering stories about life. A “Walter Mitty” character has been secretly living among you for eight years. I went through a crazy dreamer period in y life from about 1975 to 1985.

I will now admit publicly that I love Dr. Oz. I truly believe the man is saving the lives of thousands of people with his sage advice. Although I rarely see his program at airtime, I record and watch in the evenings while my beloved Sky King is watching something really loud and obnoxious downstairs. A particular Oz program, one I have protected so it is never erased, features four doctors who specialize in “Functional Medicine.” Dr.

Nothing encourages a person to excel or persist in an activity more than a sincere compliment. When the teacher writes a glowing note on your child’s term paper, you beam with pride, knowing that your young scholar has received a reward for doing her best work in the classroom. A performance review, loaded with commendations, is good tonic for any worker that is busting himself at the office.

I happen to know that my great grandfather had a little dog named Trixie. Sam Long loved this little mutt and let her ride with him in his wagon on his bi-weekly trips to Baird to buy stock for his general store in Dressy, Texas. Now, if someone hadn’t told me that, I wouldn’t know it.

Hiking in our beautiful Texas Hill Country offers endless adventure as you see wildlife, incredible views and amazing plant life, hopefully including bluebonnets this spring. Join the Horseshoe Bay based Hill Country Trekkers and you will meet new friends and experience a large variety of weekly hikes. Hill Country Trekkers was formed in 1999 with a handful of hardy souls who just wanted to explore the Hill Country.

I like to make my own chicken broth, so that involves buying a whole chicken and boiling her up with the seasonings I like. This process makes a gallon or so of great broth that I can use to make some mighty fine soup. Really, the stuff that comes out of a can is so anemic compared to the real thing. While I’m cutting the wrapper off the chicken, I couldn’t help but notice that she was mostly breast with these teeny tiny little legs; the Pamela Anderson of all chickens.

Two things in our household really need to go, and in the process we could have enough money to take a nice little vacation: 1) our house phone, and 2) the cable television. I have made the statement many, many times that the land line phone is redundant. Just to reinforce the fact, I checked the caller ID and this is a description of the calls we missed — Conde Nast (magazine sales), Republican National Committee, Newt 2012, California (?), Tea Party Patriots, Unavailable, Texas Tech, ...

I really should have listened to Steve Wolke on the driving range, but I had been looking forward to seeing Warhorse since the announcement that Steven Spielberg was going to make a movie of the Tony Award winning play by the same name. The trailers appearing on television for months heightened my anticipation.

What remains of Christmas when the grandchildren have gone, leaving a house to be cleaned, linens to be washed, and trash cans crammed with wrapping paper and red ribbon? And what remains of Christmas when the holiday tree has been dismantled, its colorful ornaments and lights safely packed away until another Yule season and its lifeless needles strewn on a wide path across the carpet from the window in the living room to the dumpster in the garage? What remains of Christmas when the ...