Branson Trip

 Hayter for May 18, 2025

“Having a Blast in Branson"

            Kay and I are bound to be home by now. We couldn’t afford to stay here a single day more than we planned. Don’t get me wrong, we’re having a blast, but a blast in Branson, Missouri, has more things to see and do than anywhere I’ve ever been.

           This trip was made possible by our friends Beverly and Ramon Bollinger, who kindly allowed Lanny and Carol Dressen, and Kay and me to use their timeshare to Branson. That was one great gift! Lanny drove the four of us in his extended-cab Ford pickup. We reached Little Rock, Arkansas, with five more hours of driving up, down, and around a bunch of hills that led to Branson. After a unanimous vote, we decided to get a couple of rooms at a hotel on the outskirts of Little Rock. We’re at an age where a 10-hour drive is more pain than gain. We reached Branson the following day.

By the way, Lanny’s pickup was quite comfortable. I was so pleased that he did not ask me to drive.  For most of the trip, I sat up front with Lanny, and the ladies sat in the back. At times, the route was complicated. Paper maps are so difficult to find nowadays, so Lanny had to occasionally pull over so he could use a map from his cell phone. Eventually, Kay replaced me in the front seat so she could use her phone to find directions. I could’ve used mine, but didn’t want to risk us ending up in the panhandle of Oklahoma.    

            As it turned out, we arrived in Branson in the afternoon. Being a great planner, Lanny had purchased tickets online for our first two shows. The ones he selected were two of the greatest performances in the history of Markdom.

The first performance was called “David.” It wasn’t about the Copperfield kid. It was the story of David, the King. The stage performance included at least 100 performers, roaming around three stages, each with its own set, and all three connected in a semicircle. The props created for each set were magnificently designed. And the actions during the play included dancing, music, singing, battles, and giants.

 And let me tell you--Goliath was big. And at least 25 feet tall. When that giant got hit in the forehead with a stone, he fell to his knees, stayed there for a few seconds, and then plunged to the ground. Which was good, because it allowed David to decapitate him. And, I’ve gotta say, Goliath had a massive head that sat atop a really thick neck!

            By the way, the guy playing David had a beautiful voice. And David’s mother also sang beautifully. The actor playing Saul? He was an okay singer, but I just couldn’t get past how mean he was. Oh, my word. I forgot to tell you about the sheep, horses, and pigeons. I’m telling you they had about 15 sheep scurry on stage from a door at the entrance of the theater to the stage. Then they ran off stage. They did that three or four times.

            And men riding real horses came from the area of the lobby, down the aisle, and then climbed up a ramp onto the stage. And pigeons flew from the stage across the auditorium, into a small opening at the back. And none of those animals relieved themselves during their time on stage. And they weren’t wearing diapers! It was a miracle.

            I cannot describe all of the wonderment that took place on the stage of “David.” But I certainly recommend you see the play.  The Insight Theatre has held several plays featuring Biblical characters. Even Jonah and Queen Esther!

            After leaving the set of “David”, we hurried over to another performance from a group called “The Haygoods”. It’s a group of six family members—five brothers and one sister—who sing, dance, joke around, and play more instruments than is possible for six performers to have mastered, but they did. 

            The Haygoods performed some spectacular numbers. The show was a blast! And the siblings seemed to get along fabulously! Not like the Everly Brothers. I really enjoyed listening to those two. Fortunately, I didn’t hear about their disdain for one another until they quit singing. 

            The Haygoods had a big array of different outfits, and their stage had so many different colored lights as well as shooting rays of different colors. By the way, at 8:30 p.m., on December 31, the Haygoods will put on a performance in Branson for New Year's Eve. It might be a nice getaway for you and your significant other. Of course, you should’ve started saving in February.

            Before returning home, I do want to mention the museum featuring memorabilia from the different wars since WWI. It would take a few days to read all of the stories, so after a while, I became more selective. My deepest despair hit me when I started reading the names of those who died in each of the wars. The names were printed in small type onto huge sheets of paper that covered the walls from ceiling to floor. It’s one thing to hear the numbers of those who gave their lives, but when you see all of the names, it better expresses the cost of war.

            I realize that’s a sad way to end a story about a wonderful trip to Branson. But I see it as a good moment to recognize the lives of those who gave their all for each of us, and for their families who will always bear the pain. All of those involved gifted us with the privilege of experiencing some of the good things in life. Right now, that’d be Branson.

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hayter.mark@gmail.com                                                        

Walk in the Park with Brad May 11

 Hayter for May 11, 2025

“A Walk in the Park”

            Last week, Brad Meyer and I took another walk in the park. The experience is embarrassing to me. Let’s face it, we were once two racquetball-playing grown men, and now we’re two old guys walking in an area where children are playing.

I knew it would come to this. Just not this soon in my life. If Brad could find a healthy person he could still beat, he would be in the gym at this very minute. But no. Now the two of us are walking, talking, and taking turns listening.

We have been friends for a good while, yet I’ve never heard Bradly call me by my name. I’m liable to call him Bradford, Bradson, and on occasion, Brad. He calls me “Hey” and “You.” As in, “Hey, you wanna go get breakfast?”

For the three of you who wouldn’t know Brad Meyer from Oscar Mayer, I’ll give you a short biography: Over the years, he has been everywhere and done everything. --  I take that back. He’s never done anything in Oklahoma or Madagascar.

 obs than is healthy. He’s been a hotel manager in several locations, an emcee for various musical groups, and he used to referee boxing matches. He got the job by asking someone if he could. Son of a gun, he had a calling. He’d call out, “No head butting!” and “Okay, break it up! Back to your corners!”

Most of you remember Bradly from his articles with The Courier and a few other publications. He wrote on a wide range of topics. On occasion, he’d review plays at the Crighton. For a while, he involved himself in reviewing restaurants. I thought him too honest to be a food critic. Eventually, he asked if I would join him in his food reviews. We eventually developed online videos of our restaurant reviews. A few of the episodes are still on YouTube. Eventually, his wife Nancy replaced me. She was a much better choice.

If we can get past the story of Brad Meyer, I’d like to return to our walk in the park. It was a walk, the distance of which had been shortened a bit by the flooding of the west fork of the San Jacinto River. The dam had apparently been opened a bit to lower the level of Lake Conroe, in anticipation of more rain. That’s just my guess. -- No one clears stuff with me.

While the river was flowing fast and high, the park was flooded with youngsters. This occurred on Cinco de Mayo. It commemorates a historical event that took place in 1862. That was when the people from a town in Mexico tried to overthrow the French, who had taken over the country because Mexico owed them money. The U.S. didn’t try to help our neighbor because we were involved in a Civil War at the time. – I only brought the topic up because I thought it was the reason youngsters were playing in the park on a school day. 

The parents of these children paid no attention to the fact that the fifth of May is no longer considered a day off for public schools in Texas. Perhaps the mob of children at the park were homeschooled. None of the Hayter children were homeschooled. That was because it was against the law to homeschool healthy kids when I was young. It was a law passed mostly by hordes of Texas mothers. Elsie Hayter participated in the march. Probably. 

There was not only a horde of children at the park, but also an attractive couple all dressed for a wedding. I thought they intended to get married in the park until I noticed a photographer taking pictures of them in beautiful areas of the park. 

It reminded me so much of what Kay and I didn’t do before our marriage. I had been working for the Texas Forest Service at their District 6 headquarters just south of Conroe. Kay and I had planned to get married during the Christmas Holidays, but the TFS dispatcher, Rodger Parker, recommended we get married during the Thanksgiving Holidays. I thought my old friend was a genius! 

When I told Kay about the idea, she was all for it. So, we got married in Pasadena in the preacher’s office, with our folks present. Kay and I had attended so many weddings of family and friends that we chose not to make a big deal out of ours. The fact that we couldn’t afford a big wedding had a little to do with our decision. But, for the most part, we just didn’t care to go to all of the trouble. We missed out on some gifts, but then we already had a toaster. 

Speaking of a toaster is only marginally related to Brad and me walking in the park. See how much Bradly gets me off topic? During our rest stop, midway through our journey, Brad and I got into a discussion about the speed of light. Brad was unaware of my last article, where I mentioned a recently located planet 120 light years from Earth. I had read that if we could travel twice the speed of light, we would not only be going really fast, but we would end up back in time.   

Brad stopped me right there. He said that it’s impossible to go back in time. That going beyond the speed of light would merely slow down time. I had seen several movies and TV series about space flight, so I knew I was right. That was when I told Bradford that we should finish the last leg of our walk. 

He said, “Sure. Hey, you wanna go get breakfast when we’re through?”

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hayter.mark@gmail.com        

Nearest planet with possible life

 Hayter for May 1, 2025

“Speaking of Wonderments…”

            Everyone buckle up, because you’re about to venture into the area of wonderment. The universe is full of those things. Example: Before falling asleep last night, I heard a thud somewhere inside the house or at the front door. Over the years, I’ve managed to pass along some of my responsibilities to Kay. Unfortunately, things that go bump in the night are a responsibility she has not learned to accept. 

So, I got my rear out of bed, looked for my rifle, but had to settle on a plunger in the bathroom. I gave the house a quick once-over and noticed nothing that would’ve caused a loud thump. I didn’t go outside because all I had was a plunger. I feared a burglar might attack a guy who was carrying a toilet implement. When I climbed back in bed, I told Kay that the house was secure. She asked if I had seen anything outside. I assured her that I hadn’t. Fortunately, she had no follow-up.

 Bottom line: There was no explanation for the sound, thus making it a wonderment. Somewhat like the UFO, my friend Johnny and I saw while camping on the beach southwest of Galveston. I wrote about that several years back. 

But forget that… if you can. Today, I have chosen something weird about a recent discovery of the closest planet to Earth that shows evidence of life. It was named K2-18b after Elon Musk’s battery-powered dump truck. Just a guess.

K2-18b is 120 light years from Earth. Light travels 187,000 miles a second. It travels 5.88 trillion miles in a year. The fastest spaceship the U.S. has travels a little under 400,000 mph while in space. At that speed, it would take our fastest unmanned spacecraft 1700 years to make it to K2-18b. 

So the planet we see through our telescopes is what it looked like 1700 years ago. Were we willing to send men and women to K2, it would require a considerable number of men and women on the spaceship. The purpose being so they could reproduce on the way out there. By the time the ship reached its destination, there would’ve been 85 generations of astronauts who had been born and died on the trip. 

I tell you that, to tell you this: The only way we would be able to meet creatures from that distance, is if they were dumb enough to send a spaceship to Earth several centuries ago. Perhaps your great-grandchildren could welcome them. Unless the life expectancy of creatures from K2 is way longer than ours, whatever creatures arrived here would have no memory of their planet. None of them surviving the trip would have any memory of home… because they had known only the spaceship in which they’d been traveling. 

This wonderment has awakened me to movies about monsters from outer space. I think those movies are somewhat fabricated. For one thing, the monsters from the movies travel in spaceships that go faster than the speed of light. Even Spock and Captain Kirk were able to do that.  

Scientists have figured out that if we were able to travel beyond the speed of light, we would end up travelling back in time. Were we to land on a planet with humanoids, we wouldn’t know if they were older or younger, because we’d never seen them before. Work with me, here. 

Scientists say that it is impossible to travel faster than light. Depending on your post-light speed, once you reach your destination, you would be younger than when you left. That means the travelers would be able to live forever, but only if they chose to return to the spaceship before dying of old age. 

All of this begs the question: if you keep getting younger, will you lose the memories you had when you began your trip? I realize that several of you are thinking, “Who gives a rat’s rear about any of this?” -- Answer: Only a person who is big on wonderments. -- Or someone who is nuts. Pick one.

This leads us to my second wonderment. Last week, I read a couple of articles about the best places in the country to live. Here is one of them: “Conroe is officially on the map as one of the most sought-after towns in the country.” I began counting all of the towns in the country and found there to be more than I could count.

Our second and last wonderment has to do with the fact that Conroe was rated 19^th as the best town in the nation due to its  “family-friendly activities, a picturesque lake, a lower crime rate, and affordable housing.” On the day following the publication, there were numerous comments on Facebook, some liking the article and most tearing the daylight out of it. I think some of the comments were meant to keep people from moving here.

There was a third article about the best subdivisions in the country. The Woodlands was rated the second-best place in the country to raise your family. They used pretty much the same criteria with emphasis on the schools. The Woodlands rated high. Splunkston, Idaho, not so much.

The wonderment I found in my reading had to do with the thought that each article might’ve been paid for by commercial real-estate ads.  Both pieces rated several Texas towns and subdivisions high on the list. 

The first secondary school established in the Americas was Boston Latin School back in 1635. The wonderment of that comes from the speed at which I was able to find the information. When I was in college, if I could’ve gathered this much information in a matter of seconds, I could’ve easily gotten a PhD. I don’t know what I would’ve done with it, but Faris and Elsie Hayter would’ve been proud.

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Neighborhood meeting Apr 27

 

Hayter for April 27, 2025

“Neighborhood meeting”

          Everyone calm down! You too, Wanda! It is past time to start our every other monthly meeting of the subdivision residents.  -- What? No, Phyllis. It’s not called Semi-monthly. ‘Semi’ means half, as in, half of a month. And yes, I looked that up this morning in anticipation of you wanting to correct me.

          Right now, I need to tell you that Liz is out of town for a couple of weeks, so Kay volunteered me to take her place. – Beg pardon? Ah, Kay is in her study reading. She is into a romantic novel and feels the need to finish it… What? Yes, I’m really ticked off.

Each of you will get a chance to ask pertinent questions, but first, we’re going to look at what Liz wants covered. – Yes Wanda? No, there are no cans of Dr Pepper in the ice chest that are artificially sweetened. Why not? No big reason, I just don’t buy artificially sweetened anything.

          The first comment by Liz was--here let me read it to you. “Our Easter gathering at the park last week was terrible!?” I don’t know which one of you she is blaming for this. If memory serves me right (which it seldom does) part of the way through the scattering of the plastic eggs, it started raining. So you may want to iron that dilemma out with Liv at the next meeting. I’ll make a note of it. -- “God let it rain on Easter.” I’m sure she can wiggle her way out of that.  

          Which reminds me. I’m a bit surprised that none of your husbands showed up for this meeting. What’s that all about? – Yes, Cheryl? -- Do you mean that men never attend the subdivision’s meetings? This begs the question, what am I doing here? This may be my first meeting, but Kay always tells me the important stuff.

          Let’s get past that and look at one of Liz’s real questions. She says that we have a major problem with cars being parked anywhere there’s a curb. She wants it stopped. Which one of you would like to jump into that cauldron? – Julia? Ah, haul off cars that are parked on the streets. Interesting. Oh, and force the owner to pay when he goes to reclaim his car. – Ladies, please, hold it down. -- Each gripe that I managed to understand almost made sense.

          But let me say this about that. Every driveway in this neighborhood has room for two automobiles or one big truck. If visitors show up, where are they going to park? If you tried to have a family gathering at your house, you’d have cars parked all around this cul de sac. The only good thing I can see from that is that your husbands might start coming to the meetings.

          Wait! While we’re on the subject of vehicles, I need to mention my next-door neighbor. I’ll call him, Pete… because that’s his name. The man has a massive motorcycle, the handles of which stick up four feet above the seat. I don’t hold that against him. It just goes against everything sane. What does is the fact that either early morning or late night he’s revving that machine up. Perhaps he is searching for just the right sound. I would like to ask the police to handle it, but the men in blue, tend to tell the person living in the house, which neighbor it was who called them. It happened to me just once. I foolishly stood on my porch when the police showed up. At one point, the police officer pointed at me. That was at the house where we lived before moving here. So, I shall make a note to let Liv know about you ladies putting fear into the deafened motorcycle man.

          Okay, the rest of Liv’s questions are dumb, so it’s time for one of you to voice a gripe or an idea. Hey, one at a time. Okay, uh—I don’t know your name, which is odd because I seldom call on people I don’t know. Unless I’m at the Dollar Store. So, you are?... That sounds Polish. Oops, sorry. It’s French? Interesting. I don’t see that many Polish women with French names. But go ahead. What’s on your mind?

         I see. Well, that is a problem. Does anyone in here know who might be willing to mow and weed Ms. Flomshurman’s yard? Anyone? Yes? Well, that would work. Ms. Floman, would you have a problem paying someone to take care of your yard?... No, I really don’t know what they charge. I’ve been weed eating my neighbor’s yard for free. And, I’ve got to tell you, I’m tired of doing it. And, no Ms Flo, I’m not up to doing yours. So, after this meeting, why don’t one of you ladies ask your husband to take care of that problem. So that takes care of that problem.

          Who’s next. Felica? So, what’s troubling you… The Fourth of  July? That’s a good two months from now. I assure you that I will not be in charge of neighborhood meetings ever again. Let’s see. Your next meeting will be July first, so you might want to have a special meeting in early June.

          So, if that’s all… What’d you say? For Heaven’s sake, no! Liv would be the one to call a special meeting to handle the Fourth of July plans. No, I don’t care what you offer me. I don’t like doing this… Beg your pardon? Really? Hey, I’m not that good. But y’all would seriously do that for me?... If I continue to lead these meetings you would put a stop to my neighbor’s motorcycle issue? – Now, you’re speaking my language. But, I’ll have to clear it with Kay first…

          By the way, if I take the job, our meeting in mid-June will be at Wanda’s house. Wanda, you’ll be in charge of the cold drinks.

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Hayter.mark@gmail.com                                                  

 

A walk in the park

 

Hayter for April 20, 2025

“Brad and Mark’s walk in the park”

          For the first time in years, I’m taking a long walk with no intent of getting anywhere… other than where I started. The last time I remember doing this I was at a track meet. The coach made me a distance runner because my specialty (high jumping) stunk on ice.

          But today, Brad Meyer and I are in the process of finishing a good two-mile walk. --  Excuse me a second. – Ah, Brad thinks our walk will only be a mile and a half. He’s never been good with distances. Me? I’ve never been good with time. Yesterday, the Physical Therapy assistant had me pedal the stationary bike for six minutes. That’s what she set it for. But I pedaled that thing for at least 15 minutes. Physical therapists really know how to trick you.

          By the way, Brad’s the one who made me come out to the park this morning. I’m fairly sure he’s getting me fit for racquetball. My hip doctor and Brad are the only two adults who think I’ll be able to play racquetball again. My doctor didn’t say I couldn’t, he just didn’t say I could. He registered no hint of caring.

I can’t help but feel sorry for the people in the olden days, who ended up with bad hips and knees. I’d like to see Doc Adams on Gunsmoke replace a hip. And, yes, I think it’s okay to worry about the woes of dead people. It’s sad as all get out to think of the number of people before and during the Civil War who were awake during their operations. The scariest words ever uttered back then were “Okay, y’all hold him down.” – Subject change!

          But speaking of my new hip, I have confidence that it has ruined my ability to run due to the issue with my new hip. When I was in junior high, I ran around in circles a lot to get in shape for track meets. I was actually a high jumper, but the coach also made sure that everyone had to run a race during a meet. He chose me to run the half-mile. We called it the 880, because that’s the number of yards in a half mile. I did the math. I don’t think they run in yards anymore. Every distance race is in meters. The 880 race is now the 800 meters, which is five yards short of half a mile. Brad was as impressed with that fact as you are.

          I’ve gotta tell you, though, Brad had it much worse than I did. Back in his high school years, he not only ran the 880 but there were hurdles in each lane that each runner had to jump over along the way. That’s running and jumping for two laps around the track. If our school had long-distance hurdle-jumping, I have no memory of it. I imagine if there was such a thing, the coach would’ve entered me in the 880 hurdle jump. Someone would have had to follow me around the track to reset every hurdle I knocked over.

Brad also tossed the shot-put. Truth be told, you don’t toss a shot-put, nor do you shoot it. Why it’s called the shot--put is beyond me. You don’t put the lead ball anywhere. You turn yourself in a circle and then heave the thing. Tossing it would ruin your shoulder and elbow. That was just my guess because Brad didn’t care one way or the other. He just hated having to do it.

I hated having to jog for half a mile. Of course, you’re not supposed to jog in a race. You’re supposed to run at a lower speed and then really turn it on near the end. My normal speed was lower speed. My goal was to not be last. Fortunately, God always allowed there to be at least one guy slower than me—or I. One of us.

My specialty was the high jump. That’s why I got involved in track. Dennis, my older brother, taught me how to high jump. This was back when you landed in three to six inches of sand after your jump. The highest I ever jumped was five feet four inches. Dennis jumped six feet. And, he was an inch shorter than me! Fortunately, no one in high school back then could jump seven feet. Which is fortunate, because he would’ve broken his neck upon landing in the six-inch pile of sand.

Back at the park, Brad and I plopped down on a bench after our second and last rest stop. For whatever reason, Brad started talking about funerals. People do that a lot around me. I must remind them of the living dead. Brad told me that he doesn’t want a funeral. “Cremate me and throw my dust to the wind.”

I told him that, if he went before I did,  I intended to say something about him at his funeral. I felt safe in saying that because there’s no way I’m going to outlive him--unless he bites the dust during one of our walks. – I’m not sure anyone has ever bitten any dust during a walk. People can come up with some strange sayings.

 

Well, Brad’s ready to finish the last bit of our hike. During the last stretch, I think I’ll bring up some of the strange sayings from long ago. Take a “cat-o’-nine-tails”. Who came up with that? There is nothing about the plant that could be mistaken for a cat’s tail. Besides that, what feline would have nine tails? They’ll let anybody name stuff. – I’ll let you know what Brad thinks about that--assuming he does. He’s a selective thinker. – Next time.

Hayter.mark@gmail.com                                         end