Texas Dutch Con Man Baron Bastrop's Good Deeds

I think that may be my Great Great Great Great Great Uncle Philip Hendrik Nering Bögel waving a weapon in the painting.

Uncle Bögel was born in Paramaribo, Dutch Guiana in 1759. Thus he was Dutch. Uncle Bögel moved back to Holland in 1764, eventually getting married, having 5 kids and working as a tax collector.

In 1793 Uncle Bögel was accused of embezzling tax money. So, he left his family and fled to the New World. Eventually ending up in the part of America where, to this day, little things like stealing tax money, or being on the take to gas drilling companies, is no big deal, that being the part of the New World that eventually became Texas.

I am half Dutch. My immediate ancestors came to America from Holland in the late 1880s. It took awhile for my Great Great Grandpa to find their final location.

At one point I believe my Great Grandpa, John, was sent to Texas, to check out a Dutch/German community in the area that is now Denton. He reported back that this would not do. Then the little family heard of an area in the far Northwest of America that had a lot of Dutch settlers. So, my Great Grandpa hopped a train and made it to what is now a town called Lynden, in Whatcom County, in what was then Washington Territory. He stayed a Summer, then returned to his mom and dad and sister in the Midwest, with a knapsack full of apples and pieces of thick bark, tales of tall trees, rich farmland, berries growing wild. The family made their final move.

Lynden, in Whatcom County, to this day, remains a Dutch town.

Anyway, back to Uncle Bögel. He gets to the land that eventually became Texas. He'd renamed himself Felipe Enrique Neri, Baron de Bastrop, a Dutch nobleman. The locals bought his act. Just like the contemporary Texas locals have bought mine as Durango Jones, Baron de Fort Worth, a Dutch nobleman.

When the "Baron" showed up, in 1805, he was given a colony grant and was later appointed the chief judicial official of San Antonio. Baron Bastrop worked with Stephen F. Austin in negotiating with the Mexicans and was key in opening the port of Galveston.

Baron Bastrop was very important and influential in the colonization of Texas. There are some who believe that without him Texas might never have seen the influx of Anglo settlers who eventually took control of Texas from Mexico.

To honor Baron Bastrop, the towns of Bastrop, Texas and Bastrop, Lousisiana and Bastrop County, Texas are named after him.

When Baron Bastrop died there was not enough money for a funeral. Fellow members of the legislature paid to bury him. Baron Bastrop never saw the wife and kids he left behind in Holland, again, but in his will, he left his land to them.

There you go, that is your Texas history lesson for the day.

Mother's Day Calls To Mom While Walking Through History

You are looking at the Village Creek Natural Historic Area Bayou, this Mother's Day Sunday, in Texas.

Village Creek is so named, because, before this area was invaded by illegal aliens, one of the largest Native American villages was located here.

It was a prosperous Indian Village, growing crops, herding cattle, trading among the tribes.

And then the illegal aliens came to town and took over in a brutal early version of the Texan penchant for abusing eminent domain. Back then, you didn't just take the property, via legal chicanery shenanigans, you often just killed the property owner to get what you wanted.

Well, enough of history. I called my Ma and wished her a Happy Mother's Day, while I was walking around in the former Indian Village.

My Dad was screening Mom's Mother's Day calls while she was busy peeling pears. My Mom and Dad are constantly canning various fruits and vegetables.

Mom was chatty, even though those pears needed to be attended to. My Dad is in the throes of a cold. I asked how one manages to catch a cold in their HOT desert climate in the Phoenix zone?

My newest nephew went to Arizona for a visit last week, that would be Mom and Dad's newest grandson.

My new nephew's name is David. He is a redhead. This is very mysterious, because there is no history of there being redheads anywhere in my extended family. I told Mom that it is dangerous to be around little kids or buffet lines, due to the germ/virus exposure.

I can't remember the last time I've been in a buffet line or within 10 feet of a germy little kid. I also can't remember the last time I had a cold. Coincidence? I think not.

The Demise Of Heritage Park In Fort Worth Texas

The title of this blogging was the subject line in a couple emails I got yesterday.

I believe it has been a couple years, already, since I was shocked to discover that downtown Fort Worth's Heritage Park had been boarded up, surrounded with cyclone fence and turned into another Fort Worth Eyesore.

I was appalled. Soon I was not alone in being appalled. Efforts began to fix Heritage Park. As far as I know, those efforts have not been successful

Yesterday I got 2 emails from a very significant appalled person, who had a personal reason to be appalled. The emails were from one of the architects who had designed Heritage Park, a Japanese architect named Junji Shirai.

The 2nd email from Junji Shirai said, "In addition to my previous mail, I am enclosing an illustrated plan view of the Heritage Park that I drew for the presentation to the city. I found it in my past work portfolio. I thought you might be interested in seeing one."

Among the city's excuses as to why Heritage Park was allowed to die is that, supposedly people did not feel safe there. That made no sense to me. Is that not a police station/jail type facility right next door? Could regular patrols, through the park, not easily be done?

I also thought that lighting could easily be added, so that Heritage Park would not be a dark, scary place when the sun went down.

So, I was a bit surprised to read Junji Shirai's description of the clever lighting that had been designed to illuminate the park. I suspect it was never installed, or had stopped being used by the time I first saw Heritage Park.

Like I said. Appalling. When I first saw Heritage Park I remarked that it is the only thing I'd seen in downtown Fort Worth that was at all unique. Heritage Park overlooked the confluence of the West and Clear forks of the Trinity River. That confluence will be destroyed if the Trinity River Vision Boondoggle ever actually happens.

Anyway, below is the message from Junji Shirai...

I came across the web site of yours that told me about the closure and deterioration of the Heritage Park, Fort Worth.

My name is Junji Shirai, a Japanese architect, and I am the one who designed that park. It was commissioned to Lawrence Halprin and Associates San, Francisco to design, and Don Carter (passed away), Satoru Nishita and myself were assigned to do the work. All 3 of us are truly nature-loving, easy going designers but we were dead serious about the representation of the great heritage the city of Fort Worth possesses in our design of the park. We were focusing our attention mostly to the spacial experience of the visitors when they stroll through the semi-enclosed space, walkways, water temple, streams along the walk among trees and shrubs, over looking the Trinity and enjoy the expanse of scenery, etc. One of the design features we made realized was the lighting system for the entire park. You might not have noticed it but all lighting for the night illumination are fully integrated into the walls. This was done in order to avoid ordinary light posts lining along the walks otherwise, for we did not want night visitors lit by overhead ramps. We are so proud of the final product when it was dedicated to the city and the citizens of Fort Worth, but I am so saddened to hear about what has happened to it today.

From the saying in the script on the wall, I believe those who do not regard their heritage right, would be regarded lightly in the days after they are gone.

Junji Shirai (currently reside in Tokyo.)

Happy Mother's Day, Mom, And All You Other Mothers Out There

That's my Ma & Pa in the cowboy hats, first week of January, 2009, with Lake Grapevine behind them.

I wonder if they wear their cowboy hats in Arizona? I suspect not.

I called my Mom the last time I got gas, this past Friday, but I got the answering machine, with my Dad's answering machine message which is a borderline poem. If I remember right, it is the rhyming of phone and tone that makes the message sound like a poem.

When my Mom didn't answer the phone I called my sister who lives nearby. That call also went to the answering machine. My sister's answering machine message is not poetic.

Now that you've got me thinking about it, I can't remember the last time someone answered the phone when I called. Everyone has Caller I.D. I have no idea why no one wants to talk to me.

On a brighter note, I went swimming this morning for the first time since the morning of April 21. The newly lined pool is so smooth that it's slippery to do the walk through the water part of my swimming routine. I sort of like the change.

I suppose I'll make a rare non-gas related phone call to my Mom today because it is Mother's Day. I'll likely get the poetic answering machine.

Hiking The Tandy Hills In Fort Worth With Native American Tootsie Tonasket

You are looking at a very shy red wildflower. It was hiding today, around noon, under other brushwork on the Tandy Hills. The blue bloom on the right is what caught my eye, and then I saw the little red blooms.

Yesterday I hiked the Tandy Sanatorium with a nice young lady from the Hawaiian Island of Oahu.

Today I hiked the Tandy Sanatorium with a nice young Native American lady from Eastern Washington, she being Tootsie Tonasket, also known as Princess Thunder Rump of the Tonasket Tribe.

Tootsie was being an amusing hiker today. Tootsie used to be shy, back when I first knew her. The current version of Tootsie is no longer shy. I attribute this to years of me treating her with aversion therapy. Whatever that means.

It is not hot today. Only 73 at 5 in the afternoon. I have less than 2 hours to get my voting taken care of. I must hit the publish button on this blogging and then head for the polls.

I got a very interesting email this morning from Japan, from Junji Shirai. Junji Shirai was not happy about something shocking he learned on my blog and Eyes on Texas website. When I get back from voting I'll try and remember to blog about Junji Shirai and what he told me...

Seeing The Marfa Lights & GASLAND In Fort Worth

You are looking at a picture of the mysterious Marfa Lights, out near the town of Marfa, out in West Texas.

My #1 West Texas source tells me that Fort Worth's #1 Eco-Warrior, Don Young, is currently in Marfa, at the Marfa Film Festival, to see the Lights and to introduce the film, GASLAND the movie, to the film festival.

Don Young is filling in for GASLAND creator, Josh Fox, who could not be in Marfa.

GASLAND will be shown here in Fort Worth on May 12. Josh Fox will be here. And you can meet him at the gala affair at Fort Worth's Modern Art Museum.

More GASLAND in Fort Worth details.

It Is Saturday May 8, A Day To Vote In Texas For Adrian Murray & John Basham

I think I'll go do me some voting today. I think the last time I did myself some voting was when I was one of the 6% of eligible Fort Worth voters who managed to be one of the 30% who did not vote to re-elect Fort Worth's corrupt, ethics challenged, conflicts of interest laden, sad excuse for a mayor, Mike Moncrief.

Today I'm hoping to be one of the over 51% of the 6% of eligible voters who vote for Adrian Murray and John Basham to replace Marty Leonard and Jim Lane on the Tarrant Regional Water Board.

I think I'll go to a Poll Party tonight. That's where a group eagerly awaits the election returns.

In the meantime, before Poll Partying and after voting, I think I'll have myself some peaceful time at the Tandy Hills Natural Sanatorium Area.

And, by tomorrow morning, my pool should be filled and ready for a return to swimming. It's about time. The lack of my morning pool time has made me unusually grumpy.

Hawaiian Hiking On Fort Worth's Tandy Hills

Is that a Tandy Daisy blowing in the wind, unwilling to stay still enough for a sharp image?

The wildflowers seem as if they may have gone over the crest of their peak, noticeably, since yesterday. Maybe a shot of rain will cause a revival.

Today I hiked the Tandy Hills, in the mid-afternoon, later than my norm, with a Hawaiian, well, actually, more specifically, an Oahuan. I have hiked with a Cambodian before, but never an Oahuan.

The Cambodian Tandy Hills Hiker had a pronounced Texas accent, with nary a hint of Cambodian. The Hawaiian/Oahuan Tandy Hills Hiker did not have a pronounced Texas accent, and also did not have any hint of a Hawaiian/Oahuan accent.

I enjoyed hiking with the Oahuan and will have to do that again.

Tomorrow I have some voting to do, then later in the day some poll results party attending to do.

Right now I have to get out of here to try and find a missing person.

The 15th Anniversary Of The Mayfest Storm & My Introduction To Texas Hail Terror

May 5 was the 15th Anniversary of what is known in these parts as "The Mayfest Storm." This was a rather BIG Weather Event.

Without warning a large cluster of thunderstorms bore down on over 10,000 attendees at Mayfest in Trinity Park, on the west side of downtown Fort Worth.

Hail the size of softballs began to pummel the Mayfesters at 7:10 pm. Over 400 people were injured, 60 sufficiently serious hospitalization was required.

As the storms marched east, heavy rain drenched parts of Tarrant and Dallas Counties. In various ways the storm killed fifteen people in Dallas County, with one dead in Tarrant County. Some victims drove into flash floods and were swept away. Two fell into high water and drowned. Two were killed by lightning. Two were killed when the rain caused a roof to collapse.

Hundreds of cars were damaged by the hail. In the end, all the property and human damage resulted in one of the costliest storms in history, with around $2 billion in damages.

I first heard of "The Mayfest Storm" after moving to Texas. I have no memory of reading of the news of this disaster while I was still in Washington. Obviously it was big news. It just did not register with me.

The first I heard of "The Mayfest Storm" came about when I found myself in a Spring of 1999 storm with one of the victims of "The Mayfest Storm."

Big Ed and I had been mountain biking at Dinosaur Valley, prior to heading to a Dude Ranch, south of Cleburne, to meet up with, well, let's call them Mrs. Gifford and Jolene, for a Riscky's catered BBQ feeding.

Mrs. Gifford and Jolene had stayed overnight at the Dude Ranch to go on some big group horse ride. However, that next morning, when the ride was to take place, Jolene, who used to ride horses all the time, found that she'd grown too big to get on a horse. So, Jolene was put on a buckboard and followed the horseriders in bumpy buckboard comfort that rendered Jolene a grumpy non-horserider.

Let me see if I can find a picture of Jolene from that Dude Ranch Day. Okay, there she is with the horse she was unable to mount. If I remember right, its name was Caution.

The BBQ went fine. Afterwards it was decided Jolene would ride back to Fort Worth with me, while Big Ed drove Mrs. Gifford's horse trailer rig.

On the way north we could see a lot of lightning strikes. It was around 10 pm. Heading north on Interstate 35, the weather grew increasingly dire. This was very early in my Texas exile, so the EXTREME weather was still totally new to me.

Suddenly, we were in a heavy heavy downpour, the likes of which I'd never seen. The freeway slowed to a crawl, as in 10mph.

And then all HELL broke loose. With lightning striking all around, huge balls of hail started hitting my windshield. Jolene started screaming, as if we were being shot at by a mad assassin. Next thing I know, Jolene is crawling to the back seat, like Jackie Kennedy trying to crawl out of the Presidential Limousine in Dallas.

Eventually, I came to a stop under the I-20/I-35 Mixmaster to wait it out. I learned later doing this is a big no-no. I asked Jolene why in the world she so totally panicked.

That is when she told me about "The Mayfest Storm." She was in it. And her new little Ford Pinto car was totalled by that storm. She'd seen windshields, including hers, blown out by hail, hence the panicked crawl to the backseat.

It would be another year or so til I had another close encounter with BIG hail, that being the afternoon of March 28, 2000, when Fort Worth was struck by a tornado. Where I lived, at the time, we were struck by golf ball size hail. I had never heard anything make such a loud noise. I can't imagine what softball size hail would be like.

Wait, I take that back. I have been hit on the head by a softball. When I was 6. It is what caused my lifelong aversion to baseball. I was bored to the max in the outfield, not paying any attention to the boring game I'd been forced to play, when a ball was hit my way, landing on my head. It hurt.

I imagine getting hit on the head by a softball size hail ball would hurt worse than a softball.

Seeing A Royal Purple Cup In My Sauna Sanatorium

For want of a better name, you're looking at a Royal Purple Cup Wildflower, regally brightening up the Tandy Hills today.

It had been less than 24 hours since I had aerobicized, but I was feeling an endorphin shortage and needed some Sanatorium time to ponder the Fort Worth Way, in a non-Fort Worth Way, so it was off to the prairie for some nature communing.

We are starting to get into the temperature range that turns a mid-day hike into being very sauna-like. I like that.

I'd never been a fan of HOT Summer days when I lived in Washington. In Washington a HOT Summer day meant it had climbed into the low 80s. When I moved from Washington, I did not know how well I was going to be able to handle a HOT Texas Summer.

No one had told me about the acclimating phenomenon, til I experienced it. If anyone had told me I would eventually enjoy 100 degree plus temperatures, I would have thought them to be nuts.

I get so used to being acclimated to HEAT that a return to a Washington Summer is quite chilling. The locals swelter in the 70s, while I shiver. The last time I subjected myself to this, some tiresome, self-centered, unable to empathize Washington locals were unable to comprehend my icy misery. My last time in Washington was so COLD, that at the time of my return to Texas, I vowed it would be at least a decade before I subjected myself to such frigidity again.

I have since relented on my no-return vow, due to realizing that not all zones of Washington are as frigid, in Summer, as icy Tacoma.

Buzzer just buzzed. This indicates the Mexican Spaghetti I made for lunch is ready to consume.