Agent Wife & I took our offspring downtown this morning to see the annual West Texas Fair & Rodeo Parade. I had no intention of blogging an entry about this as it was planned to be a private family, non-Agent B affair. But when you're a secret agent, I guess you're always on duty.
There we were, on the side of the street with a few friends, taking pictures of our offspring with various parade floats/entries in the background: livestock, Abilene police dept., fire trucks, marching bands (my alumni college was the best btw), the Taylor County Liberterians (all 3 of them), and numerous antique cars & tractors, etc. Then comes the unofficial "homeless drunk guys on bikes" entry. It was hilarious. I was practically crying it was so funny because they were yelling & screaming at the crowd and people were cheering back, not knowing they were a couple of drunks. I can see it now: they were probably downing their Saturday morning 40-ouncers somewhere, then hopped on their bikes and stumbled across the largest parade all year, then say "what the hell...why not" and join in on all the mayhem while riding in between marching bands and horses.
We knew one of the guys - 'Georgia' Rusty. Rusty, who looks like a cross between Willie Nelson and a member of Lynyrd Skynyrd and hails from Cartersville, GA, somehow stumbled through our fair mother city about 4 years ago and wound up on the izzy porch waiting in line for a place to sleep one Thursday (during our Thursday night sleepovers). He came in from Dallas with one of his many girlfriends, broke up with her the next week, fell in love with Abilene, and been here ever since. He even left town once to visit Georgia for something about his daughter. But he hopped aboard a greyhound and came back ASAP because he really likes it here.
When we saw him in the parade Agent Wife & I started yelling his name and waving and cheering. He and his little hispanic buddy (who refered to themselves as the Cheech & Chong of the parade) stopped and came over. I was happy to introduce 'Georgia' Rusty to our young offspring as so many of our homeless friends didn't realize we've become parents since izzy shut down nearly 3 years ago. Rusty says someone gave him a trailer home to live in and he told me where it was located. I may go visit him soon. It was so good to see 'Georgia' Rusty...even as a parade float.
After the parade, on the way back to the Millenium Falcon, we run into Scooter P. King, another quasi-homeless guy I haven't seen in 3 years. He'd been in Dallas for the last few years and wondered where izzy was at now. Something happened to his left eye and he's now blind in that eye.
Lord, heal Scooter's eye and thanks for putting us in his & Georgia Rusty's path today. I'm honored to see them again. Thank you.
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3 comments:
ummm... how does one become an "agent?"
i met some scientologists today (unfortunately Tom Cruz wasn't there) at the Flea Market. I almost joined but their benefits package wasn't that great, and i didn't have my glasses so i couldn't read the fine print and so thought it wise not to join at this time.
anyway, i am in a rare "joiny" mood.
that is all. really just making coversation.
An agent? Well...pull up a chair and let me tell you. Follow these instructions:
1)Become a minister. I suppose becoming any kind of minister will work. I am a minister to the working poor and homeless, so that's my only reference. I guess you become a minister by getting "hired" to be a minister somewhere. Or perhaps ordained (I think you can do that online nowadays). Or just 'self appoint' yourself as a minister.
2)Refuse to be known as a minister. I chose this because I got tired of people acting all "churchy" around me. I mean...homeless drunks will be cussing and swearing, then they realise a "church" guy is amongst them so they start talking like they just walked out of seminary. It's amazing.
Being a secret agent also helps in middle class social rantings. When someone asks what kind of work I do, I tell them I work undercover and I can't talk about it now. That shut's them up. Sometimes you can actually *hear* their butthole close tight. It's funny.
Being an agent also helps avoid the temptation of taking any of Jesus' credit or opposing Matt 6:1-4. You know..."Yay ME. I'm helping the POOR. What about YOU?". I'm just a field agent. Aren't we all?
Hope this helps!
PS - there IS no benefits package in this agent gig other than your sanity.
nice.
thats all. just nice.
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