By J. Bryan Wasson
I have been playing the guitar for most of my life. I also sing a little. In my younger days, I played my guitar and sang in numerous churches as well as entertaining at various social gatherings. During our years in South Carolina, I could always be found every Friday and Saturday night at a place called, Bills Music Store and Pickin’ Parlor. The place was set up for a number of musical groups to play at the same time in little cubby holes created by portable walls much like the cubicles found in many modern offices. Most of the groups. played bluegrass music. Two groups played classic country music. I was always in one of the two groups that played the old time classic country music. On one Saturday night per month, a concert was held. Each participant could do two songs.
I still play and sing in my church on occasion. Most of my music however is limited to a weekly Friday night jam session at the Bowie Senior Citizens Center. A group of musicians and singers sit in a big circle and each person in turn does a song. The music is a mixture of gospel and classic country. On occasion there is a little bit of rag time music. We also recently had a barber shop quartet. Many senior citizens from the area come to be entertained by this event.
On a recent Friday night, I invited a long time friend, Doctor, Bernie H. “Doc” Roberts a retired Veterinarian to attend the jam session. He enjoyed it so much that he has ordered himself a guitar.
This visit with “Doc” Roberts brought back a memory of a rather humorous although somewhat painful incident that happened many years ago. I recently asked “Doc” if he remembered the incident. He said that he did not remember it. Considering the number of animals he has treated over the years that fact is not surprising.
I lived on the outskirts of Bowie, Texas and had a pasture full of all kinds of critters including horses, mules, donkeys, sheep, goats, chickens as well as a couple of dogs and number of “barn” cats. Owning this many animals creates a need for the occasional and sometimes frequent services of a Veterinarian.
I had a colt that from the time he was a few days old, loved to run full speed from one end of my pasture to the other. A few feet from the fence at the other end of the pasture, he would apply the brakes and slide to a stop, often within inches of the barbed wire fence. He would then turn around and repeat the process. The colt repeated this process many times each day while his mother calmly grazed.
One day when the colt was about 6 months old, he did not apply the brakes soon enough and his chest hit the barbed wire fence at the far end of the pasture. I knew the wound would require some stitches so I called the Veterinary Clinic where “Doc” Roberts was a partner. Soon “Doc” arrived at my little “Ponderosa Ranch” to take care of this matter.
I must explain that “Doc” is one of those folks who use their hands to make all kinds of gestures while talking. If you tied the hands of this type of person behind their backs, they would not be able to say a word.
I held the colt by the halter shank while “Doc” took the sutures. After suturing the long jagged wound, “Doc” said that a Tetanus shot would be required. As he filled the syringe, “Doc” continued talking and using his hand gestures. All of the sudden and to my great surprise, I found the hypodermic needle buried in my arm nearly to the hilt.
At first, I think “Doc” was as surprised as I was but then calmly; he looked at me and said, “Ordinarily after a puncture wound like that, I would recommend that you go the Bowie Clinic and get a Tetanus shot, however, in this case it will not be necessary because you just had one.”
Note: Dr. B.H. “Doc” Roberts passed away January 20, 2006
Nov. 8, 2004, JBW
This article has preaviously been published in The Brayer, Official publication of The American Donkey and Mule Society (ADMS).
I have been playing the guitar for most of my life. I also sing a little. In my younger days, I played my guitar and sang in numerous churches as well as entertaining at various social gatherings. During our years in South Carolina, I could always be found every Friday and Saturday night at a place called, Bills Music Store and Pickin’ Parlor. The place was set up for a number of musical groups to play at the same time in little cubby holes created by portable walls much like the cubicles found in many modern offices. Most of the groups. played bluegrass music. Two groups played classic country music. I was always in one of the two groups that played the old time classic country music. On one Saturday night per month, a concert was held. Each participant could do two songs.
I still play and sing in my church on occasion. Most of my music however is limited to a weekly Friday night jam session at the Bowie Senior Citizens Center. A group of musicians and singers sit in a big circle and each person in turn does a song. The music is a mixture of gospel and classic country. On occasion there is a little bit of rag time music. We also recently had a barber shop quartet. Many senior citizens from the area come to be entertained by this event.
On a recent Friday night, I invited a long time friend, Doctor, Bernie H. “Doc” Roberts a retired Veterinarian to attend the jam session. He enjoyed it so much that he has ordered himself a guitar.
This visit with “Doc” Roberts brought back a memory of a rather humorous although somewhat painful incident that happened many years ago. I recently asked “Doc” if he remembered the incident. He said that he did not remember it. Considering the number of animals he has treated over the years that fact is not surprising.
I lived on the outskirts of Bowie, Texas and had a pasture full of all kinds of critters including horses, mules, donkeys, sheep, goats, chickens as well as a couple of dogs and number of “barn” cats. Owning this many animals creates a need for the occasional and sometimes frequent services of a Veterinarian.
I had a colt that from the time he was a few days old, loved to run full speed from one end of my pasture to the other. A few feet from the fence at the other end of the pasture, he would apply the brakes and slide to a stop, often within inches of the barbed wire fence. He would then turn around and repeat the process. The colt repeated this process many times each day while his mother calmly grazed.
One day when the colt was about 6 months old, he did not apply the brakes soon enough and his chest hit the barbed wire fence at the far end of the pasture. I knew the wound would require some stitches so I called the Veterinary Clinic where “Doc” Roberts was a partner. Soon “Doc” arrived at my little “Ponderosa Ranch” to take care of this matter.
I must explain that “Doc” is one of those folks who use their hands to make all kinds of gestures while talking. If you tied the hands of this type of person behind their backs, they would not be able to say a word.
I held the colt by the halter shank while “Doc” took the sutures. After suturing the long jagged wound, “Doc” said that a Tetanus shot would be required. As he filled the syringe, “Doc” continued talking and using his hand gestures. All of the sudden and to my great surprise, I found the hypodermic needle buried in my arm nearly to the hilt.
At first, I think “Doc” was as surprised as I was but then calmly; he looked at me and said, “Ordinarily after a puncture wound like that, I would recommend that you go the Bowie Clinic and get a Tetanus shot, however, in this case it will not be necessary because you just had one.”
Note: Dr. B.H. “Doc” Roberts passed away January 20, 2006
Nov. 8, 2004, JBW
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