manuel gonzaullas, texas ranger: you haven’t heard this story
You know that HORRIBLE QUESTION authors always get asked? I’ve seen everyone from Charlie Rose to a ten-year-old at Reading Reptile pose the same terrifying query:
Where do you get your ideas?
Of course, Neil Gaiman has the perfect and correct answer:
“You get ideas from daydreaming. You get ideas from being bored. You get ideas all the time. The only difference between writers and other people is we notice when we’re doing it.”
Today’s blogpost idea came yesterday when I was doing a little Spring cleaning on my Google bookmarks. (Yes, I have come to realize that I have a problem. My name is Lisha and I am a link hoarder.) I came across this:
Which reminded me of the time my father saw the Famous Texas Ranger.
My father’s life was a lot more fascinating than he ever let on to his four innocent daughters. He could fit in anywhere–from the best restaurants to the crummiest dives.
For most of his life he sold oil field supplies. Sometimes my aunt would see him downtown when he was schmoozing the big oil barons. She’d tell my mother, “I saw Karl today. He looked like money walking down the street.” Other times he’d get a phone call at two in the morning when an oil drill needed a part. He’d drive to East Nowhere, pull on his hip waders, slog through some serious muck and help the roughnecks get their machinery going.
Once, after a long night, Daddy had some “lunch” at a dive filled with working men. Two fellows stood at the bar. Everyone gave them a wide berth, watching them, whispering.
“Who’s that?” my father asked.
“That’s Gonzaullas,” said his friend.
He didn’t have to say any more, because everyone knew who “Gonzaullas” was. He was out of uniform and retired by this time, but he was THE most legendary Texas Ranger of all time.
While Daddy had another bottle of lunch, a man came in the door and crept up on Gonzaullas. He stuck his finger in the retired Ranger’s back like it was a gun and said, “Stick ’em up!”
Daddy said before you could blink that old Texas Ranger had spun around and shoved his enormous six-shooter in the guy’s face, hammer cocked.
Turns out the dumb-ass was a friend of Gonzaullas’. The Ranger was shaking and paler than his friend. “Don’t ever do that again!” he said.
And that explains how Gonzaullas lived to a ripe old age. Doesn’t explain how his friend did, though.
Posted on April 8, 2011, in life and tagged hip waders, lonewolf, manuel gonzaullas, my father, neil gaiman, oil fields, oil well, six-shooter, texas, texas ranger, where do you get your ideas. Bookmark the permalink. 5 Comments.