Mr. Baker

The rain could put an end to a great day but it surely couldn’t put a wet blanket (I know, I know. I can’t help myself sometimes) on our appetites and desire to make merry. After hangin’ around the aerodrome for awhile and getting a few ducks together, it was time to go to Mr. Baker’s. I had seen his ranch from the OTW so knew where it was (that and Roger gave us directions).

Roger had already clued us in to his great friend and neighbor. He advised that he just happened to be an original Texan who had also been a private pilot. He told us that his business involved the oil and salvage industry and that he was a collector of a number of things. He had traveled all around the world and had no end of stories to share.

By about dark thirty we all moseyed over about a quarter of a mile to Mr. Leslie Baker’s ranch. It was still raining pretty hard so everyone was sopping wet. Anyone who hasn’t lived through a west Texas “frog strangler” rainstorm is really missing out on getting themselves entirely wrecked. There’s no way that anyone can end up anything but “casual” by the time you get inside of out the deluge. But, that’s just Texas. I heard tell that newcomers to that area do two things right away; build a storm shelter and an ark.

I had met a “real Texan” many years earlier. My mother’s second husband was one of those. He was rough, gruff, and wore his Huggies full of stuff. He must have been a neighbor or even relative of Ol’ Mr. Baker because Mr. Baker was exactly like him. He was constructed entirely out of “rough edges”. If anyone had attempted at some time to use sandpaper to smooth him out, I’d have to say it was “Double Ought” grit at best.

What was most refreshing to find was that, for all the rough exterior, Mr. Baker was a true friend. When it came to Roger and his friends, his credo was “Mi casa, su casa” and it was without reservation. He had opened his home to Steve (Roger’s brother) and his party for the duration and had invited the entire Freeman and friends clan over for dinner and a good time.

Because of a misunderstanding on our part, Connie and I had already eaten dinner so only sampled the Texas stew that Mr. Baker had brewed up. I’m not sure why I suspected that Armadillo would be an ingredient but I did (silly me). It was just good ol’ Texas beef with a bunch of other identifiable stuff tossed in. Good stuff in any language.

Mr. Baker asked me to say grace. Perhaps it shouldn’t have been a shock to me, but it was. How cool that the he had such a consideration! I can say grace at the drop of a hat and even give you the hat. I prayed and we dug in.

The entire party couldn’t have been tickled more than at the good natured bantering between Mr. Baker and Margarette (his lady friend). He would make a raucous marriage proposal or, in his booming Texas voice, relate some of their past mutual experiences with the crowd. She would always keep him in check with an appropriate countering remark of some kind. It was almost like a well-rehearsed Vaudeville show. We all got a kick out of it. I think they did it on purpose just to give us all a grin. We surely did grin.

After awhile it was determined that John and I were guitar players and could howl with the coon dogs if needs be that a song were in order. Both John and I were amenable. However, there was only my 1987 Special Edition D-16M Martin on hand. Out of the clear blue, Mr. Baker produced a beautiful black and white fiddle that he had purchased in Alaska some years ago. Come to find out, John Goble plays the fiddle! Now, two of us could team up and make noise that someone could consider music!

We sang a few country “old standards” and some good old gospel songs and wound up doing “Ashoken Farewell”. It couldn’t have been a better time. John and I are looking forward to the next opportunity to fly and to play music together.

After a lot of food and fellowship, it was time to get some rest. It had been a long long day and we were spent. After thanking Mr. Baker profusely for such a great evening and hugging everyone’s neck (we do a lot of that if we like folks), we were off to Luling to lull and lie down. We knew that we were going to have a great morning because a big breakfast bash had been scheduled at Mr. Bakers. I started liking Texas a lot more than I already had.

The dawn broke to a nice day. I sucked up a bit of hot black coffee then Connie and I made our way out to the Camry in clear rainless weather. In a little while, we pulled up to Mr. Baker’s ranch. On the menu for breakfast was Mr. Baker’s own home recipe. It was crushed Fritos and scrambled eggs. OK….I can do that as long as there’s a fork within reasonable reach.

We were all sipping coffee, gabbing, and watching Mr. Baker (an octogenarian - who insisted on cooking for us!) crack eggs and stir stuff. I smelled biscuits cooking too so I knew it was going to be a good day.

Breakfast was soon served, grace was tendered, and forks were deftly employed. We all ate our fill and dilly dallied for awhile. But, then we all had to depart the Baker ranch. We all heaped profuse thanks upon Mr. Baker for his awesome hospitality before saddling up and moving on down the prairie. It’s easy to see why Roger considers Mr. Baker a dear dear friend. There are few people like him, to be sure.

Back at the Aerodrome, we all continued with the fly-in that had been interrupted the day before. It had been scheduled for Saturday and Sunday so we found no reason not to be there have fun on Sunday too. Though not like Saturday, Sunday morning was super.

When “things” settled down, Roger brought out the OTW again. That’s when Connie got the opportunity to break free from the Texas sod. Roger took her out for great time of sight seeing in the rare and sweet biplane. Connie loves open cockpit low and slow flying proving, once again, that there are no flies on her pies. They flew around for awhile and mashed a few bugs then headed back to the aerodrome.

Not long afterwards, Steve and his buddy and fellow FedX pilot, Mark Warren, had to call it a day and get back to Memphis. So, they loaded up Mark’s gorgeous 1963 Beechcraft Debonair and departed the fly-in.

A tradition for departing aircraft at the “Old Kingsbury Aerodrome” is to make a fly-by prior to departing the airspace. Sure enough, shortly after departure, Mark and Steve came around and honored that tradition. Ol’ Ran was able to get a couple of nice pictures of that cool fly by as the “Debby” came in hot and low. Connie and I then watched as the Debonair winged her way into the drab Texas sky.

After a short time of visiting and such, Connie and I had to depart. We really didn’t want to go. But, we knew that we would be sorely missed by our other loved ones and that the world in California would probably just stop spinning if we didn’t return in an expedient manner.

Once again it was neck hugging time in Texas (we’ll do the roundup thing later). It is difficult to express the depth of our sincerest of thanks to Mr. Baker, Roger, Steve, and all who made our stay in Texas a monumental memory. Both Connie and I will forever be thankful for our time there and for the new friends (who are family for all intents and purposes) who made our time in their part of Texas a great joy.

To say that Roger is our hero is an understatement. He was the “pivot man” around whom all things worked to make for a great time in Texas. . Connie and I are looking forward to another trip to Texas to be sure.

I was almost sad to have to point the Toyota westward. But, we did just that. There was a lot of territory to cover and that would just be to get to the Texas border.

Stay tuned because, next time, we are not only going to leave Texas, we are going to leave the country!