Category: Texas (Page 6 of 8)

Zoo Freak-ing Out

I was one month shy of my seventh birthday in the fall of 1973 when “The Zoo” hit the Dallas airways with its brand new album rock format. It was all rock-and-roll. And not just the hits. The Zoo played B-sides and deep cuts. And for an entire generation of people who grew up in Dallas, people who are today in their 50s, it was THE radio station.

I don’t remember ever NOT listening to The Zoo. I was introduced to Van Halen and Aerosmith by The Zoo. When I got my huge AM-FM stereo and turntable for Christmas right after my 11th birthday, one of the first things I did was slap a Zoo sticker right in the center of the smoky gray dust cover. I had a Zoo sticker on the mirror in my bedroom and on the bedroom window that faced Jennie Lee Lane and greeted every person who entered our cul-de-sac. I put Zoo stickers on my locker at school and on my notebooks. The Zoo was cool. And I was what we all called a Zoo Freak. I listened to LaBella and Rody’s “Morning Zoo” from the moment I woke up every day until we walked out the door for school. And I would beg my dad to tune the car radio from KRLD to The Zoo, which he would do as soon as Brad Sham’s “Cowboys Report” concluded. I fell asleep every night during those years listening to The Zoo.

The elephant trumpet in between songs. The “Rot Your Brain” Zoo posters we got for free at Sound Warehouse. Two-Fer Tuesdays. “Morning? Morning!”

My friend and fellow Zoo Freak Todd Adkins and I cut school twice to attend the “Morning Zoo’s Breakfast Club” at Monopoly’s in North Dallas. We were too young to get into the club legally, so we’d wake up extra early and sneak in at about 5:00 while the roadies were setting up. I still have a couple of “Breakfast Club” buttons here in my office. Somewhere in a box in my attic is a Mike Rhyner (he was the “Morning Zoo’s” sports guy) autographed picture that says “Nice Huey Lewis t-shirt!” in reference to my wardrobe that first day I met him. My old Zoo pin is prominently displayed in a shadow box in my home along with lots of other treasured items from my childhood.

Jon Dillon was the midday personality on The Zoo, part of the original on-air lineup in 1973, working at KZEW until it went off the air in 1989. His was the voice that went in and out of the Fleetwood Mac and Eagles songs I listened to while doing my homework. He was the one who told me how hot it was and it was a “skosh” past 4:00 as I drove home from school. In a day when radio wasn’t nearly as researched and formatted, when DJs themselves — not a corporate play list generated in New York or California — decided what records they would play, Jon Dillon would sometimes talk for several minutes between songs. He gave me the background stories to the lyrics and the bands. He knew the guitar players, he was hanging out with the lead singers. He knew Tom Petty and Randy Bachman and Don Henley and Ted Nugent. Listening to JD introduce a ZZ Top song (“that little ol’ band from Texas, how, how, how!) was a tremendous joy.

The Zoo was the soundtrack for my formative years. From the time I was seven until I graduated college, The Zoo dominated the Dallas airways and I never listened to anything else. My deep love for local radio is directly tied to The Zoo. My deep lament for local radio also connects sadly to The Zoo.

And now it’s back! The Zoo is back!

George Gimarc, another original Zoo jock from ’73, has rounded up Rhyner and Rody, Jon Dillon, Nancy Johnson, Chaz Mixon, and others to resurrect The Zoo in a new on-line format called Vokal. They’re using the original KZEW playlists, they’re playing old station and concert promos and local commercials that Gimarc’s kept in boxes since day one, and it’s great! Just since I’ve been typing this post, they’ve played Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believing” and CCR’s “Bad Moon Rising.” I’ve heard The Who, Neil Young, and The Stones. But they’ve also played David Lee Roth’s “Tobacco Road” from his “Eat “Em and Smile” album and Z Z Top doing “Francine” in Spanish! The unexpected B-sides and the delightful deep cuts! The familiar voices and sounds of my youth! I just heard Dillon say, “We’re getting the band back together, don’t tell anybody!”

It may not be for you. They used to say The Zoo’s not for everybody and everybody’s not for The Zoo. But, if you want to listen to Dallas rock radio the way it was when I was a kid, click here. It’s streaming live for free.

Or, just step into my office. It’s my new-old soundtrack.

Peace,

Allan

Short Week

It’s Tuesday. Feels like Monday. Tomorrow’s Wednesday. And I’m running behind. We concluded our “Marriage Matters” sermon series on Sunday with “Sex and Marriage.” I’d like to reproduce a lot of that sermon in a series of three or four posts here in this space, but it’s probably not going to happen this week. Stay tuned.

In the meantime, let me share a couple of links with you.

Erica Grieder has written a column in the current Texas Monthly about the San Antonio Spurs, claiming that they are not only the best franchise in the NBA, but the best professional sports team in the history of the state of Texas. She makes a pretty good case and she taunts Cowboys fans with a parenthetical “Prove me wrong!” You can read her column by clicking here.

Jim Martin has written an excellent post about being grateful on his blog “God Hungry.” As always, he makes a point that hurts: sometimes we say “Thank you” to everybody in our lives except the people we love the most. You can click here to read his post.

RangersTrip2016Group

We took our annual Central Boys Night Out trip to the Ballpark in Arlington last Friday to see the home team get clobbered by the Pirates. Didn’t much matter; we had an absolute blast. Dale won the homerun pool, I took home the double-play pot, and Speck lucked into the final-out bucks. Lou went to his first big league game, Andy wore an orange bandana around his neck, and we made Greg wear an Adrian Beltre shirt. We also learned that if you’re a cop, like Doug, you don’t have to go through the security line like everybody else. On the way we saw where Bruce grew up in Quanah, and on the way back we quietly lamented the idiocy that would destroy the baseball temple in Arlington and rebuild it next door with a retractable roof. And we all ate for the cycle.

Peace,

Allan

Happy 180th!

TexasFlagDetailBetterOn March 2, 1836 — that’s 180 years ago today — fifty-nine courageous pioneers signed the Texas Declaration of Independence, forming forever the great Republic of Texas. I’d like to invite you to celebrate this Texas Independence Day with your favorite plate of barbecue or tacos, listen to your favorite Willie Nelson or ZZ Top album, and praise God you weren’t born in Arkansas or West Virginia or some other awful place like Oklahoma.

I’d also like to ask you a question: Do you know our state song? Do you know the title? Do you know the lyrics?

If you immediately answered “Texas, Our Texas,” give yourself a pat on the back. If you can sing the song with all the right words in the right order, then give yourself a standing ovation and use what’s left of your lunch hour to design and print an official-looking certificate to honor your achievement. Up until last weekend, I wouldn’t have thought that knowing and being able to sing on demand our official state song was any kind of special accomplishment for anyone born and raised in our great state. But a troubling article in the current Texas Monthly brought that assumption into serious doubt.

TexasOurTexasChristian Wallace has written an informative and highly entertaining piece on the colorful history of our state song. His premise is a provocative one: our state song is a terrible song. No one knows it, no one remembers it, and no one ever sings it. Our state is too great to have such an awful state song. While Wallace makes a decent argument, I was most struck by his initial evidentiary proof. He claims to have conducted many informal surveys among friends and neighbors, passersby and strangers, and the overwhelming majority of them are unable to name our state song. Nobody can sing it.

I was offended by the very notion. Why, we sang it regularly in elementary school choirs and special programs and learned it again in 7th grade Texas History class. It’s our song! While driving back and forth across the Red River for a variety of reasons during my teenage years, I never failed to turn the radio down so I could belt out “Texas, Our Texas” as I crossed the border. “All hail the mighty state! So wonderful, so great!” Didn’t everybody do this?

Apparently not. I’ve conducted my own informal surveys this week with friends and co-workers, cashiers and waiters and passersby. Nobody knows our state song. A lot of people guess “Yellow Rose of Texas.” One lady argued with me about “The Eyes of Texas.” Some folks wrinkled up their faces and said, “We have a state song?” It pains me to say that Wallace is on to something.

I highly recommend his article. You can get to it by clicking here.

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KeithSermonSeminar2013Today is also my brother Keith’s birthday. He’s not 180. And I don’t think he has his own song. If he does, it might be “The Rover” from Led Zeppelin’s Physical Graffiti. If you wanted to celebrate his birthday, you might watch Naked Gun tonight, careful to skip past the scene on the ledge and to watch the balls and strikes scene at least twice.

Keith is an outstanding theological thinker, faithful follower of our Lord, and devoted servant of God’s Church. His article “Restorationism and Church History: Strange Bedfellows?” from the Christian Studies journal he edits is a classic work on the complicated relationship between Churches of Christ and the whole of pre-restoration church history. I highly recommend it, too. He takes head-on our Cambellite creed of “nothing not as old as the New Testament” and introduces us to the concept of “retrieval theology” that seems very helpful:

“This is not a call to re-create or ape the faith and practice of a specific time or place from the past; not every thought or practice in church history is equally good or relevant for us. It means learning from the wisdom of our ancestors and appropriating the best that it has to offer for the sake of the church today.”

You can get to it by clicking here: KeithStanglinRestorationism

Happy Birthday, Keith. I’m very proud of you and very honored to be your brother.

Peace,

Allan

Blue Bell for Breakfast

BlueBellDadIt wasn’t quite the fanfare the drivers of the Blue Bell delivery trucks experienced several weeks ago when they reintroduced our state’s most beloved ice cream to the stores in Austin and Dallas and even Wichita Falls. Let’s be honest: it wasn’t even close. There were long lines at those supermarkets in the Hill Country, limits of two half-gallons per customer in DFW, large crowds and colorful banners and creative cheers — certainly the appropriate level of hysteria that should properly accompany the return of Blue Bell after a nearly nine month famine.

A little bit of a different story here in Amarillo. Carley and I were there at 4:45 this morning to greet the Blue Bell truck at the United Supermarket at 45th and Bell. But… I think we were the only ones. We photographed the truck and took selfies with the drivers. We were warmly greeted by the cashiers and stockers who looked like they were anticipating a bit of a larger crowd. But… I think everybody slept in.

BlueBellCase

Carley and I walked to the freezers at the back of the store and beheld the glory of the stocked cases, the gold rims almost mesmerizing atop those perfectly aligned cartons of wonderfulness. Truly beautiful. While we were taking pictures and deciding if Carrie-Anne would really eat a full half-gallon of Butter Pecan by herself, a pre-teen girl grabbed a couple of cartons and another woman who was doing big grocery shopping impulsively grabbed a couple of half-gallons herself. I don’t think it was on her list. So, yes, the cashier was happy to tell us on the way out that we were indeed the third Blue Bell customers of the day.

BlueBellTruckBlueBellboys

On to the house, where Carley and I grabbed the biggest spoons we could find and dug in to the Cookies and Cream and the Peppermint. Blue Bell for breakfast. At 5:30 in the morning. Ted, yes!

Carley’s the one who’s generally up for something fun and weird with me at crazy times of the day or night. She was the one who went with me to see Texas Stadium imploded while the rest of the family slept. She and I were the only two in our family to hike to the rim of Grand Canyon to see the sunrise while the rest of the family slept. She builds snowmen with me in the front yard when the rest of the family is inside watching TV in front of the fireplace. And, today, while the rest of Amarillo was sleeping, she and I were stalking Blue Bell drivers from Wichita Falls and eating ice cream for breakfast.

BlueBellBreakfastToday, Amarillo is a little more like really living in Texas.

Peace,

Allan

Weekend Links

JohnnyFootball

Kevin Sherrington has written a truly horrible column explaining exactly why Johnny Manziel is destined to be a Dallas Cowboy. His facts are correct, his logic is sound, and I can’t find any fault with his disturbing conclusion. The last line of the column is wonderful. The rest of it may keep you awake tonight.

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My esteemed brother, Dr. Keith Stanglin, has written a piece on discipleship for the Austin Grad blog, Christian Studies. Using James’ and John’s request to sit at the right and left hand of Jesus in his coming Kingdom from the story in Mark 10, Keith breaks down the main reason so many of us want to follow the Christ from a distance. We want the glory without the suffering. We want to live a new life without suffering the death. We want to lose weight without giving up the Blue Bell. BlueBellLogo

Yes, he mentions Blue Bell in his article. Of course! He’s my brother!

By the way, the United Supermarket at 45th and Bell here in Amarillo, Whitney’s United, the one less than a mile from our house, will be selling Blue Bell ice cream beginning at 5:00 this Monday morning. The signs went up all over the store on Tuesday. Finally, Blue Bell is back in the panhandle! Carley and I are planning on showing up at about 4:45 to buy some of the first offerings and, yeah, eat ice cream for breakfast. It’s going to be like living in Texas again.

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I’m writing a faith column now for the Amarillo Globe-News. I’m in a rotation with four other guys, so my column will run once every five Saturdays. I haven’t written a regular newspaper column — is every five weeks regular? — since I was penning a weekly sports column for the Burnet Bulletin during the early 1990s. My first one here in Amarillo came out today.

Peace,

Allan

Home with the Blue Bell… Barely!

BlueBellChest

There was a short time — only for three or four months many, many years ago — back when I was still trying to get established in a full-time radio career that I worked a part time job as a courier in Dallas. I delivered very important packages all over Dallas/Ft.Worth, from business to business, time-sensitive documents, back and forth, criss-crossing all of North Texas. Every now and then, maybe a couple of times a week, I’d be handed something sealed up in an ice-chest to drive from one hospital to another hospital. And told to hurry.

Those strange and adrenaline-producing feelings came rushing back today, energizing all of my senses, as I packed the ice chest in the back seat and headed from Dallas to Amarillo. The precious and extremely time-sensitive cargo: one half gallon of Blue Bell Homemade Vanilla Ice Cream and one half gallon of Blue Bell Cookies and Cream.

A few of you were concerned enough about my mission to offer some very helpful advice by email and text. Thank you. Yes, I did pack the chest with ice last night and let it all get very cold for fifteen hours before I put the ice cream in there this afternoon. No, I did not use dry ice (too expensive and a little dangerous) nor did I put salt in the ice (maybe I should have). Yes, I wrapped both half-gallon cartons inside two plastic bags.

I only stopped once. I kept the inside of the truck as cool as I could stand it. I was in the truck for just under six hours. And when I got home, it looked like to me not one bit of the ice had melted. I felt really good about it. Until I started digging out the ice cream. The cartons were both a little mushy on the top and leaking out of the lid just a little. Just a little. But it all felt very, very soft.

Carrie-Anne is in Austin for a culinary arts training seminar, Carley is in Abilene for a girls church conference, and Whitney’s at work. And they’re all three texting me about the ice cream. How’s it going? Did it make it? Is it melted? Did it work?

I carefully opened up the cartons and stuck a spoon in the middle of each one. It was like sticking a straw into the middle of a really thick shake. I snapped a couple of pictures and sent them to the rest of the family. C-A responded with a crooked smile emoji. Carley sent back a really enthusiastic “If it can hold up a spoon, it’s solid enough!”

BlueBellMelt

She was right. Oh, my. So good.

I’m worried that we won’t ever see Blue Bell in Amarillo again. They’ve decided to cut back from distributing to 23 states down to a total of fifteen. Even after all four phases of the new rollout are complete, sometime next year, eight states won’t be on the list. Among those states that Blue Bell is permanently cutting off: Colorado and New Mexico. I’m scared that means bad news for those of us in the oft-forgotten hinterlands of our great state.

Today might have been a practice run for future ice cream bootlegging operations. I did learn a couple of lessons; I think I can do better next time. And while it may not be quite as important as running a kidney or a liver to a hospital for a potentially life-saving operation… it’s similar. Very similar.

Peace,

Allan

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