It’s not a matter of if, but when!

Bass fishing is expensive in more ways than one. But one thing is inevitable: you’re going to lose something of value at some point while fishing in a bass boat. It’s like if you’re a motorcycle rider, it’s not if you’re going to have a wreck, but when. 

Over my many years of being on the water, I’ve lost several items that I wish I could get back. Today, we all have cell phones as one of our prized possessions. So, it won’t surprise anyone that I have lost one over the side of the boat. 

While fishing on Red River early one morning, I had a phone call. Scrambling to get my flip phone out of my pocket, I literally flipped it over the side of the boat and into 15 feet of water. 

At first, panic ran through my brain and major anxiety set in as to “what am I going to do now?” After looking at my depth finder and watching my phone fall to the bottom of the river, I knew there was no retrieving this device. 

Phoneless and totally out of touch with the rest of the world temporarily, as the day went on it was kind of refreshing and nice to not have a phone, to not be at someone’s beck and call at a moment’s notice. After I accepted the fact that my phone was gone, I actually enjoyed my entire day of fishing with no interruptions! 

Another item that every bass fisherman has lost at some point is one of his good rods and reels. Once again, it’s not if you’ll lose a rod and reel, but when. I’ve lost at least three rod and reel combos over the years — two in one day while fishing as a co-angler on Lake Sam Rayburn. 

The boater/pro I drew-out, back in 2004, had no rod tie downs on his boat for me to secure my rods. Sam Rayburn is known for high winds, which produce rough rides, and if you don’t have your gear tied down, something will end up in the lake. 

That day I had two brand new Bass Pro Shop’s Johnny Morris combos that probably cost $250 each. After making a long rough run across the lake late that day, we stopped to fish. I started counting my rods and realized two were missing. A total of $500 worth of rods and reels were now sitting on the bottom of Sam Rayburn, all because the boat I was in had no rod tie downs!

This past year on Lake of the Pines in East Texas, I was fishing in 5-6 feet of water flipping a boat dock. As I got a bite, I set the hook on a solid four-pound bass. Well, all due to my fault, I had a couple of rods hanging out over the water, and while I was fighting this fish to get him into the boat, my line caught the end of one of my really nice Daiwa combos,valued at $500, and jerked it off the deck and into the lake. 

As I was landing the four-pound bass, I made a mental note of where I thought the rod went over. Once the fish was weighed and placed in the live well, I began the search for the Daiwa combo by fan casting the area with a crankbait hoping to snag it. But after wasting 30 minutes of my tournament day, I just gave up on trying to find it. 

One other thing that is inevitable while fishing is losing your favorite hat! I can’t even count how many hats I have lost while running across the lake or up the river. Towels are another item that seem to disappear along the way. Some anglers have what they call their “lucky hat” or even their “lucky towel,” and losing either one can cause a full-blown emotional breakdown! 

So, as you can see, bass fishing can be an adventure. On top of possible damage to your boat every time you go fishing, there are all these other things that can make your trip expensive. Hopefully, none of this will ever happen to you! 

Oh, there is one more thing you can also count on if you’re a bass fisherman; it’s not a matter of if you’ll fall in the lake, but when.

Contact Steve at sgraf26@yahoo.com 


October 7, 1959: The Day Humans Finally Saw the Other Side of the Moon

For thousands of years, people on Earth could look up at the Moon but see only one side of it. That changed on Oct. 7, 1959, when a Soviet spacecraft photographed the Moon’s far side for the first time. 

The spacecraft, Luna 3, had launched from the Soviet Union just three days earlier. After passing around the Moon, it turned its cameras toward the hemisphere that no human had ever seen. Beginning at 3:30 a.m. Universal Time on Oct. 7, Luna 3 took 29 photographs over about 40 minutes, covering roughly 70% of the Moon’s far side. 

What made the mission especially unusual was that Luna 3 essentially carried its own tiny photographic laboratory. The spacecraft used 35mm film, developed and dried the film aboard the probe, then converted the images into electrical signals that were transmitted back to Earth by radio. 

The photographs were grainy and streaked, but they revealed something unexpected. The far side looked dramatically different from the familiar side facing Earth. It was heavily cratered and had very few of the large, dark volcanic plains known as maria that are prominent on the near side. 

The event also helped correct a common misconception about the so-called “dark side of the Moon.” The far side is not permanently dark; it receives sunlight just like the side visible from Earth. It was simply the side humans had never been able to see directly. 

For the first time, on Oct. 7, 1959, humanity got a glimpse of the Moon’s hidden face—and discovered that the side we had never seen was not quite what we expected.


Remember This: Pierre’s Alteration

André Citroën was born to Jewish parents in 1878 in Paris, France.  Inspired by books by Jules Verne and the three-year construction of the Eiffel Tower when he was a pre-teen, Andre was determined to become an engineer.  In 1898, twenty-year-old André graduated from the prestigious École Polytechnique.  He worked for the Mors automobile firm for six years, during which time he increased production from 125 cars per year to over 1,200.  In July 1919, he founded the Citroën automobile company.  By using mass production techniques, he built affordable, reliable cars for the masses and became the Henry Ford of Europe.

From April to October 1925, the Eiffel Tower was the centerpiece of the great Exhibition of Decorative and Industrial Arts.  The Eiffel Tower’s chairman of the board offered several companies the right to have their company’s name illuminated in electric lights on the tower for a fee. André accepted and more than 200,000 light bulbs spelled out the name “Citroën.”  It was the world’s largest advertising sign at the time, and André’s name was illuminated on the very object that sparked his interest in becoming an engineer.  By the early 1930s, Citroën was the fourth largest car manufacturer in the world.  André was constantly improving the design, safety, comfort, and most of all, the reliability of his cars.  When André died in 1935 of stomach cancer, Pierre Boulanger became Citroën’s vice president and chief of the Engineering and Design department.  Two years later, he became president of the company.  

Then came World War II.  In June 1940, Germany conquered France and occupied Paris.  Adolph Hitler celebrated the victory by touring Paris and had his cameraman take a photo of him staring at the Eiffel Tower to use as propaganda.  During the occupation, German leaders asked Pierre to have the Citroën factory build military trucks for the war machine and Pierre knew better than to refuse.  Pierre had his workers build the trucks as slowly as possible but fast enough to avoid alerting the German overseers.  The new Citroën military trucks rolled off the assembly line in perfect working order, but the engines in the Citroën trucks began seizing shortly thereafter.  German mechanics disassembled the engines but could find no reason for the engines seizing up.  All fluids in the engines were at their proper level and no parts showed excessive wear or damage.  They could find no sign of sabotage.  Pierre blamed the engine failures on the harsh wartime conditions and on the soldiers for not checking the fluids in the engines regularly.  His factory kept building trucks for the Germans at a slow pace.  We must remember that the French invented the word sabotage, and Pierre was certainly a saboteur.  So, the next time you pull the dipstick out of your car’s engine to check the oil level, maybe you will think of Pierre.  For that was his master blow against the German war machine.  You see, those Citroën engines which were among the most reliable in Europe kept seizing because Pierre lowered the safe level mark on the dipsticks.  It is amazing what a big difference a small alteration can make. 

Sources:

1.     Stephan Joest, “Remembering André Citroën: A Visionary Who Shaped France and the World,” Citroënvie!, July 3, 2025, accessed September 27, 2026, https://citroenvie.com/remembering-andre-citroen-a-visionary-who-shaped-france-and-the-world/.

2.     “Citroën. 100 years of the Eiffel Tower illumination,” Citroënvie!, March 14, 2025, accessed September 27, 2026, https://citroenvie.com/citroen-100-years-of-the-eiffel-tower-illumination/.

3.     Henry Cesari, “French Motor-Heads Sabotaged the Nazi War Machine With…Oversized Dipsticks,” February 7, 2024, accessed September 27, 2026, https://www.motorbiscuit.com/sabotaged-nazis-dipsticks/.

© 2026 Brad Dison. All rights reserved. Remember This? is distributed for licensed publication only.


What piqued my interest in bass tournaments?

I started tournament fishing in the spring of 1990 and can remember it like it was yesterday! A friend of mine who was known as a very good angler asked me to fish a tournament with him. While I balked at first and did not have much interest in fishing tournaments, I gave in after several phone calls and a lot of begging. 

To say I was hooked after this event would be an understatement. This took place at a point in my life when I was no longer playing minor league baseball and was looking for another avenue where I could go out and compete. 

Tournament bass fishing has filled that niche and provided the opportunity to satisfy my competitive fire. But during the early ‘90s, there were not a lot of tournament trails like there are today.  

Angler’s Choice and the old Redman Series, along with a few charity tournaments, were all that were available at that time. Then in the mid ‘90s the FLW organization (named after Ranger Boats owner Forest L. Wood) was formed and they introduced several lower-level trails that allowed young up- and-coming anglers to learn and master fishing skills. 

It was an organization that offered grass roots anglers the chance to compete, get better and move up to the higher levels that FLW offered like the Everstart’s (now Toyota Series), FLW Series, and the original FLW Tour (now the MLF Bass Pro Tour), the highest level of professional bass fishing. 

FLW also introduced what is now called the BFL Tour (its lowest level) which stands for Bass Fishing League and was designed for the weekend warrior or what many called the working man series.

I fished a ton of these starting out and it was not uncommon for the BFL and Toyota Series events to draw 200 to 250 anglers for both the pro and co-angler divisions. It was so hard to get into these that if you did not sign up for all the events on the schedule, you did not get in.  

The best decision I ever made was in 2004 when I decided to sign up and fish as a co-angler on the FLW Tour, the highest level of FLW. This experience was invaluable for my development as an angler. 

I drew some of the best professional anglers to ever wet a hook with former FLW Cup and Bassmaster Classic Champion Dion Hibdon, former FLW Champion and three-time Angler of the Year Clark Wendlandt. 

Spending time in the boat with this caliber of angler will make you better. I learned so much, not just in terms of technique, but time management and scouting. I learned even at the highest level these guys do not over complicate the issue of catching and locating bass; they keep it simple.

I was really surprised how simple pro anglers keep their tournament preparation. It’s attention to detail that makes the highest level of anglers stand apart. 

Making sure their hooks are sharp is very important. Anglers will take the time to change out both sets of treble hooks on a crankbait if they have been fishing around wood or rocks. 

Sharp hooks equal bass in the boat, and bass in the boat equals paychecks! They also make sure they have fresh line spooled on each reel the day before the tournament starts. 

The great anglers are fanatics on tackle storage organization. Being able to put their hands on whatever they are looking for in a timely manner is very important. They can’t afford to waste time on tournament day looking for tackle. No detail is overlooked by anglers who fish for a living. 

Overall, I have enjoyed and learned so much during my 30-plus years of tournament bass fishing. I’ve met and made so many friends through tournament fishing.  Some of my best friends today have come from the bass tournament world. 

Anglers are like a coaching fraternity; there’s a unique bond that you just can’t find anywhere else. If there’s one thing I will miss when I decide to quit competing and lay my rods down for the last time, it’s that infectious comradery you have between anglers. 

Contact Steve at sgraf26@yahoo.com


Ponderings: Nothing New Under the Sun

“There is nothing new under the sun,” says the writer of Ecclesiastes. Clearly, he never had to update the software on his phone while waiting in the Walmart pickup lot.

Surely the Internet has changed everything. We order groceries from the couch, clothes from the kitchen table, and things we did not know we needed while brushing our teeth. By the time a package arrives, I sometimes have to open it to find out what I bought.

But perhaps the writer of Ecclesiastes knew more about us than we think.

A century or so ago, you went to the general store and told the clerk what you needed. The clerk gathered your order from the shelves. In some places, the store even delivered it to your home. If you wanted something special from the Sears catalog, you ordered it and waited. And waited. The catalog was full of wonders, but “arriving tomorrow” was not one of them.

Then came the shopping cart. Store owners wondered whether customers would really fetch their own groceries. They did. Soon we were pushing carts down aisles, filling them ourselves, and choosing among forty-seven kinds of breakfast cereal. Progress had arrived, though nobody had warned us we would eventually have to steer a cart with one bad wheel.

Now we tap a screen, tell someone else what we need, and wait for that person to gather it from the shelves. They may even deliver it to our home. Or we park at Walmart, check in on our phones, and wait for the groceries to appear. We have used astonishing technology to return to telling the clerk what we want.

There is nothing new under the sun.

Of course, Ecclesiastes was saying something deeper than “the general store will make a comeback.” Human life has a way of circling around the same needs. We find new ways to shop, work, and communicate, but we still know disappointment. We still make mistakes. We still lie awake worrying about someone we love. We still long for peace when the day has worn us thin.

Maybe you need a second chance. Maybe life has been so crowded with responsibilities that joy has quietly slipped out the back door. Maybe you are carrying a regret you cannot undo, or you have managed to look fine in public while feeling anything but fine at home.

For those needs, I have one word: Jesus.

Not because speaking his name makes every problem disappear by Thursday. It doesn’t. Jesus offers something better than a quick fix. He meets people who have failed and calls them forward. He welcomes the weary. He gives forgiveness where shame has settled in, and hope where we thought nothing could grow again.

The shopping cart may keep changing. The human heart still needs grace. And the good news of Jesus is that grace is available to you, right where you are—even if right where you are happens to be the Walmart pickup lot.


60 years ago, television met the modern Stone Age family

On Sept. 30, 1960, television viewers were introduced to Fred Flintstone, Wilma Flintstone, Barney Rubble and Betty Rubble when “The Flintstones” premiered on ABC.

Set in the fictional Stone Age community of Bedrock, the animated sitcom followed the Flintstones and their neighbors as they dealt with everyday family, work and social life — just with dinosaurs, stone-age technology and prehistoric animals mixed in.

The series premiere, “The Flintstone Flyer,” aired at 8:30 p.m. on ABC. The Paley Center for Media lists the premiere as a 25-minute animation and comedy program.

What made “The Flintstones” unusual was not simply its prehistoric setting. The series was created as a prime-time sitcom, rather than as children’s programming. It was patterned after the popular family sitcom “The Honeymooners” and used its Stone Age setting to portray contemporary family life.

The show would go on to run for six seasons and 166 episodes before its original run ended in 1966.

More than six decades later, Bedrock remains one of television’s most recognizable fictional communities, and Sept. 30 marks the date when the “modern Stone Age family” first arrived in American prime time.


Remember This: Luck To Have Forgotten

Quincy Jones was a record producer and composer whose awards include a Tony Award, a Primetime Emmy Award, and 28 Grammy Awards.  The list of albums, films, and television shows he worked on from the 1960s until his death in 2024 would be lengthy, but many of them would not have come to fruition had he remembered something.

On August 8, 1969, Steve McQueen, the actor who earned the nickname the “King of Cool,” called Quincy and wanted his, Quincy’s, hairdresser Jay Sebring to meet Peter Yates.  Peter had just directed what has become one of Steve McQueen’s most notable films, Bullitt.  Quincy recalled, Jay Sebring “was my barber and the most famous hairstylist in Hollywood.”  Quincy agreed and picked Jay up.  As they were driving to meet Peter, Jay invited Quincy to a small get together later that evening at 10050 Cielo Drive in Los Angeles.  Quincy was familiar with that residence because he had almost bought the house a year or two earlier.  Quincy was working on the musical score and soundtrack for the comedy film The Out-of-Towners starring Jack Lemmon but said he would stop by after he finished work for the day.  Quincy dropped Jay off and returned to work.  Hours later, Quincy went home and went to bed.  He completely forgot about meeting Jay and his friends.

On the following morning, August 9, 1969, Quincy’s friend, actor Bill Cosby, called him from London.  “Did you hear about Jay?”  Quincy replied, “What about Jay?  He was with me last night.”  Bill told him, “He’s dead.”  Quincy was in shock.  In disbelief, he called Sebring International, Jay Sebring’s company.  When Quincy asked about Jay, the person on the other end of the line asked, “Who’s this?”  Quincy replied, “Quincy Jones.”  The person said, “Jay Sebring is dead,” and hung up.  Quincy turned on the television and saw “all the bodies spread out on the lawn with sheets covering them.”  Quincy was lucky because that slip of memory saved his life.  Jay Sebring was just one of the unlucky people to be at 10050 Cielo Drive that fateful night.  Quincy said, “I knew them all, man.  I knew them all.  Heavy scene.”  The others who were unlucky to be at that home were Wojciech Frykowski, Steven Parent, Abigail Folger, and Sharon Tate and her unborn child, all victims of a murder spree led by Charles Manson.  Quincy Jones was lucky to have forgotten about the party invitation, though he never forgot the horrible event that took place that night.  It troubled him for the rest of his life.

Sources:

1.     Alex Simon, “Quincy Jones Talks Keepin’ On and Other Pearls of Wisdom,” The Hollywood Interview, accessed September 20, 2026, https://thehollywoodinterview.blogspot.com/2014/09/quincy-jones-hollywood-interview.html.

2.     Chris Heath, Quincy Jones Has a Story About That,” GQ, January 29, 2018, accessed September 20, 2026, https://www.gq.com/story/quincy-jones-has-a-story. 

© 2026 Brad Dison. All rights reserved. Remember This? is distributed for licensed publication only.


NSU Rodeo Team gears up for first collegiate competition

Northwestern State University’s Rodeo Team is preparing for its first collegiate competition since the program was reestablished, with 12 student-athletes set to compete at the Panola College Rodeo Sept. 24-26 in Tatum, Texas.

The competition will mark NSU’s debut in the National Intercollegiate Rodeo Association’s Southern Region after the university announced the return of the Rodeo Team in May. The team has since grown to a roster of 14 student-athletes under Coach Cody DeMoss, with 12 set to compete at Panola College.

NSU will be represented in several events during its opening competition. The lineup includes four saddle bronc riders, five competitors in breakaway roping and two barrel racers. NSU will also field a team in team roping, while another NSU competitor will team rope with a student from Trinity Valley Community College.

“This is the very first college rodeo that they are going to get to go to,” DeMoss said. “This one being right here in Tatum, Texas, just 120 miles down the road, is a perfect warmup for us.”

DeMoss, a 14-time National Finals Rodeo bronc rider, was named coach as NSU reestablished the program. He said he sees potential across several events as the team enters its first competition.

“I think they’ve got a chance,” DeMoss said. “There are a couple bronc riders in here that have really got a chance to do some good, quite a few breakaway ropers. The horsemanship on quite a few of them is pretty good, so there’s some real talent.”

Allison Savant, a freshman industrial engineering major from Kenner, competes in breakaway and team roping. She said the team has been practicing nearly every night leading up to its first competition.

“I’m pretty confident. We have a pretty strong team,” Savant said. “Mr. Cody has definitely coached us up. We’ve been practicing almost every night. We have really good calves to practice on, so I think we are going to do a really good job.”

For Savant, the Panola College Rodeo will also be her first experience competing at the collegiate level.

“I feel like it’s going to be a fun experience,” Savant said. “First college rodeo, it’s not going to be like the high school rodeos. It’s going to be a little bit different, so I’m excited to see what’s new.”

Cyler Yeager, a freshman from Montana, competes in saddle bronc riding. He said the opportunity to join a new program helped draw him to NSU.

“When I first got to talking to Mr. Cody, he had a lot of great things to say, and I thought it would be great to be a part of a new organization,” Yeager said. “I thought I might be able to help create history and maybe be history myself.”

Yeager said he feels confident entering his first collegiate competition after weeks of preparation.

“We’ve been training pretty rigorously lately, hopping on horses and on the dummy over there and just trying my hardest to get ready for it,” Yeager said. “You’ve just got to trust in the motions that you know.”

The Panola College Rodeo opens a five-event fall schedule for the NIRA Southern Region. Following Panola, the region is scheduled to compete at Southwest Texas College Oct. 1-3 in Uvalde, Texas, Northeast Texas Community College Oct. 8-10 in Mount Pleasant, Texas, McNeese State University Oct. 30-31 in Lake Charles and Sam Houston State University Nov. 12-14 in Huntsville, Texas.


LDWF reminds hunters to know their target during special waterfowl seasons

The Louisiana Department of Wildlife and Fisheries is reminding hunters to carefully identify waterfowl before taking a shot as the state moves through its special teal season and prepares for Louisiana’s first special black-bellied whistling duck season.

Louisiana’s special teal season runs Sept. 19-27. During the nine-day season, hunters may harvest only blue-winged, green-winged and cinnamon teal. The daily bag limit is six birds, with a possession limit of 18.

LDWF noted that identifying teal can sometimes be challenging, particularly when birds are in flight. Blue-winged teal have a large light-blue patch on the upper portion of the wing, while green-winged teal are the smallest of the dabbling ducks and have a green speculum. Cinnamon teal, which are extremely rare in Louisiana, are more similar in appearance to blue-winged teal than green-winged teal.

Another special season will follow in October. Louisiana’s first-ever special black-bellied whistling duck season will be held Oct. 3-11.

Only black-bellied whistling ducks may be harvested during the special season. Hunters will have a daily bag limit of four birds and a possession limit of 12. A free special permit is required to participate.

Black-bellied whistling ducks can be identified in flight by a wide white stripe on the upper surface of their wings and feet that extend beyond the tail. Adult birds typically have bright orange bills, pink feet and a chestnut-colored chest that transitions into a black belly. Juvenile birds may be more difficult to identify because they have grayish bills, less prominent pink coloring on their feet and lack the distinctive black belly seen on adults.

LDWF cautioned that other species of waterfowl may occupy the same habitats during both special seasons, making positive identification especially important.

“Know the season. Know the species. Know your target,” the department advised.

Hunters are encouraged to review identification materials and current Louisiana waterfowl regulations before heading into the field.


Ranch life shaped me into the person I am today

As many of you know, I was adopted by my aunt and uncle, Laverne & Loyd Graf Jr., when I was 10 years old. They quickly became mom and dad for me. My biological mom, Alta Mae, was not capable of raising two young boys. After starting and struggling through the first grade in Rosenburg, Texas, I was failing school and they rescued me from Houston, Texas, and brought me to Mt. Pleasant just after Christmas. 

I was enrolled in Vivian Fowler School at that time and did extra work into the summer as I got caught up enough to be passed on to the second grade. It was also at this time that I started my youth baseball career in 1968 while spending the entire summer with Mom and Dad.

One place that holds a special place in my heart, as I spent many a day there, was my Dad’s ranch. Graf Brothers Ranch was a partnership between my Dad and his brother William Ed Graf (Uncle Bill). Uncle Bill was the proud owner of a trucking company in Ft. Worth and was basically a financial partner of the ranch more than anything else. 

He had two sons who would come to the ranch once every few months. One of these cousins, Matt, and I became close, as we both loved to hunt and fish. With our ranch having three different stock ponds loaded with bass, Matt and I basically taught ourselves how to bass fish. 

We both subscribed to Bassmaster Magazine and would read each one cover to cover while learning about new baits and techniques. Then when he would come to the ranch, we would go and apply what we learned. 

Those stock ponds were a great training ground for learning how to fish and understanding bass behavior. Matt and I shared some great times for years until we got into our teens. Then I got more involved in sports and those fishing get-togethers became few and far between. 

I still cherish those early childhood memories with Matt even though those trips dwindled over time as he also made fewer trips to the ranch. We’ve lost touch with each other over the years, but I’m sure he has fond memories like me.

One thing ranch life taught me was good work ethic. A ranch does not run itself as it takes a lot of man hours to keep things running smoothly. We weren’t what many would call a big ranch, but we did run anywhere from 100-150 head of cattle depending on the time of year. 

A ranch is a constant work in progress with doctoring cattle, building fences, working on barns, and cutting and hauling hay to make sure cattle were fed even when weather was bad. There are no days off when you own a cattle ranch. Cattle need attention and must be checked on daily, especially when cows were getting ready to calf. 

There was one job I absolutely hated! It’s what my Dad called “piling chunks.” On our ranch we owned both sides of the main road with one side all pastureland while the other side was half-timber and pasture. But over time Dad cleared some of the timber to create more pasture. 

We owned a large D9 bulldozer that Dad used to clear the timber. As he dropped trees on the ground, smaller limbs that fell off the trees had to be picked up. We would then pile them up in small burn piles. This is what dad referred to as “piling chunks!” This process was hard work and took many hours over several weeks to get the job done.

There are many things that shaped me as a person, but the lessons I learned from growing up on a ranch were invaluable. My Dad was a man of few words and was not touchy-feely. He never really shared his personal feelings, but he did believe in hard work and taught me the value of this concept and how it builds character. 

The ranch for me was a training ground on not just hard work, but on developing my skills as an angler and a hunter. It gave me the freedom to learn how to hunt deer and squirrels and how to catch a bass.  

The number of hours I spent on my own in the woods and around our stock ponds starting at the age of 10 was endless. Most kids today don’t know how to be by themselves all day, making one cast after another and learning how to catch a bass. 

Kids today don’t grow up sitting on a single 2×6 board nailed between two limbs in a tree for deer hunting. They’ve never built a duck blind on the bank of a stock pond and enjoyed a good hunt, and when you shot a duck over the water, you had to wait until the wind blew the duck to the bank so you could retrieve it. 

Kids today would consider the work I did as kid a form of child abuse. Again, my parents did not sugar coat anything. Love, while not openly expressed much in our family, was understood. They had goals and expectations for both me and my brother whether it was a job to be done or school. 

We never did without anything that was essential. My Mom and Dad provided for us as a family and made sure my brother and I had everything we needed to not only enjoy life, but to be successful.

I literally would not trade anything for the time I had growing up on Graf Brothers Ranch, as it taught me everything I needed to succeed in whatever path I chose for the rest of my life.   

Contact Steve at sgraf26@yahoo.com


Truman Capote’s ashes went up for auction on Sept. 23

On Sept. 23, 2016, an unusual item went up for auction in Los Angeles: the cremated remains of famed author Truman Capote.

Capote, best known for “In Cold Blood” and “Breakfast at Tiffany’s,” died in 1984 at the age of 59. His ashes had been kept by Joanne Carson, a close friend of Capote and former wife of “Tonight Show” host Johnny Carson.

The ashes were housed in a carved Japanese wooden box and were offered as part of Julien’s Auctions’ “Icons & Idols: Hollywood” sale. The auction house estimated the remains at $4,000 to $6,000.

When the auction concluded the following day, Capote’s ashes sold for $43,750 to an anonymous buyer. The sale attracted interest from potential buyers in the United States as well as Russia, Germany, China and South America.

The ashes were not the only unusual Capote memorabilia offered at the auction. His clothing, prescription bottles and other personal belongings were also sold.

According to the auction house, Capote had told Carson that he did not want his ashes to simply sit on a shelf, making the unusual auction an especially fitting final chapter to the author’s colorful public life.


Ponderings: God Never Gives the Future

I met a sentence the other day that has been bothering me—in a good way.

“God, the master of time, never gives the future.”

Read that again. Did your mind immediately go to the future? Mine did.

I have plans for today. Plans for tomorrow. Appointments, meetings, deadlines, things I need to remember, and several things I have already forgotten. All of them are carefully placed on my calendar. Notice the possessive pronoun.

My calendar.

That is how we talk, as though we own Tuesday. We look at a little square on a screen three weeks from now and say, “I have something that day.”

Maybe.

As we say in the South, “The Lord willing and the creek don’t rise.”

Calendars are good things. Planning is responsible. But putting something on a calendar does not mean we possess the day. God has given us this moment. The next one remains in his hands. One of the hardest skills in life is learning to be fully present in the moment we have. We have two favorite ways of avoiding it.

The first is the past.

We call them “the good old days.” The funny thing about the good old days is that when we were living through them, we complained about them too. Personally, I vote for the late 1970s—but only after the leisure suit phase. There are some things even nostalgia cannot redeem.

We remember our younger years as simpler times, conveniently forgetting that we were younger, considerably less wise, and occasionally wearing polyester. Sometimes we look backward because we regret mistakes. Sometimes because we miss people. Sometimes because we realize we were standing in a wonderful moment and didn’t recognize how wonderful it was until it was gone.

Our other escape route is the future. We worry about everything we have to do. We stare at our calendar and wonder who put all that stuff on there, conveniently ignoring the fact that most of the appointments were made by us.

Or we are waiting for something wonderful.

At one point, I was looking ahead to the possibility of praying the invocation at the Louisiana Sports Hall of Fame induction ceremony. That was exciting. So there I was, supposedly contemplating the spiritual discipline of living in the present while simultaneously thinking about the 1970s, imagining a future event, examining my calendar—and receiving texts from church staff reminding me of a couple of things I needed to do. I was apparently fully present in about four different decades at once.

It was a busy moment. And now it is gone. That may be the spiritual lesson.

The only moment in which you can love somebody is this one. The only moment in which you can pray is this one. The only moment in which you can notice grace is this one. The only moment in which you can actually live is this one.

We remember the past. We prepare wisely for the future. But we receive life from God now.

So try something. For the next two minutes, be completely present. Don’t revisit yesterday. Don’t rehearse tomorrow. Don’t check your phone. Don’t mentally reorganize your calendar. Just be here.

Now.

If you make it the full two minutes, congratulations. You may already be more spiritually mature than I am. If you don’t, notice which direction your mind traveled.

Did you go backward or forward?

I have a theory that I can come pretty close to guessing your age by which direction you went. When we’re young, we keep asking, “What’s next?” As we get older, we increasingly ask, “Remember when? “Faith may teach us to ask a different question:

“God, what are you doing right here?”

Because God, the master of time, has not given us tomorrow.

But he has given us this moment.

And this moment is enough.


Remember This: The Dancing Bears

Hans Riegel was born in Bonn, Germany, in 1893.  After completing primary school, he began an apprenticeship as a confectioner, a candymaker.  During World War I, Hans fought for the Germans.  After the war, he returned to candy making and was hired by the Heinen confectionery company in Kessenich.  On December 13, 1920, Hans left the Heinen company and founded his own candy company.  His capital for his new venture included one sack of sugar, a marble slab, a chopper, a masonry stove, a copper kettle, and a roller.  It was a small operation compared to what he was used to at the Heinen company.  Working out of his small home at Bergstraße 37 in Bonn, Hans was only able to make about 110 pounds of hard candy per day.  As soon as a batch was ready to sell, Hans’s wife Gertrude loaded the candy into a basket on her bicycle and hand-delivered the sweets to customers.  Business was not growing as quickly as Hans had hoped.  He knew he needed a unique product to bring in funds to allow him to expand his business.  But what? 

Hans’s target demographic was children, so he thought back to the things that made him happy as a child.  In the late 1800s and early 1900s, showmen brought captive bears into towns to perform for passersby who would give them coins.  The bears were street performers.  The bears walked upright and performed numerous tricks, but the one the children enjoyed most, according to the number of coins taken in, was when the bears would dance as the showmen kept a beat on the tambourine.  They were called Tanzbären, or dancing bears.  In 1922, Hans used his fond memories to mold his candy into the shape of a dancing bear.  Hans shaped his bears with four outstretched limbs so they could sit upright or could stand on all four paws.  Children often played with the bears before eating them.  Hans created an edible toy.             

Sales of the dancing bears quickly exceeded Hans’s expectations.  By 1923, Gertrude could no longer keep up with demand on her bicycle, so Hans purchased the company’s first delivery automobile.  Hans’s candy went on sale in nearby shops and gradually expanded outward.  By 1930, Hans’s candy was available throughout Germany.  By 1933, Hans employed 400 people.  Production stopped during World War II due to the lack of supplies.  Hans died in March 1945, six months before the war ended.  Following the war, Gertrude managed operations until two of her sons, Hans Jr. and Paul Riegel, took over management of the company.  They built the company into a worldwide enterprise who employs about 8,500 workers in 16 factories in 11 countries who make more than 1,000 different sweet treats.  Their top seller is still the product Hans designed after the dancing bears that he remembered from his childhood.  Earlier I said Hans produced hard candy, but the dancing bears were something altogether different.  You may not have heard the word Tanzbären, but it is likely that you or someone you know has enjoyed Haribo’s gummy bears.

 Sources:

1.     “Hans Riegel,” Kessenichy ist Kult, accessed September 13, 2026, https://www.kessenich-ist-kult.de/kessenich-herz-des-bonner-suedens/personen-der-geschichte/hans-riegel/.

2.     “Haribo – About Us,” Haribo.com, accessed September 13, 2026, https://www.haribo.com/en-us/about-us/history.

© 2026 Brad Dison. All rights reserved. Remember This? is distributed for licensed publication only.


Two killed, one injured in two-vehicle DeSoto Parish crash

Troopers from Louisiana State Police Troop G responded to a two-vehicle crash on Sept. 18 around 11:30 pm on U.S. Highway 171 near Louisiana Highway 3276. The crash claimed the lives of a 43-year-old man and a 63-year-old man, both of Stonewall.

The preliminary investigation revealed that a 2004 Chevrolet Tahoe was traveling south on U.S. Highway 171. At the same time, a 2000 Volvo VNL was traveling north on U.S. Highway 171. For reasons still under investigation, the Chevrolet made a left turn and collided with the Volvo.

The driver of the Chevrolet, who was unrestrained at the time of the crash, sustained severe injuries and was transported to a local hospital where he was pronounced deceased. A passenger in the Chevrolet, who was unrestrained, sustained severe injuries and was transported to a local hospital where he was pronounced deceased. The driver of the Volvo, who was properly restrained, sustained minor injuries and was transported to a local hospital for treatment. 

Impairment is not suspected; however, standard toxicology samples were taken and submitted for analysis. This crash remains under investigation.

While not all crashes are survivable, properly wearing your seat belt will dramatically reduce your chance of being severely injured or killed in a crash. Louisiana law requires that every person in a vehicle, regardless of seating position, always remain buckled up. Properly wearing your seat belt is one of the most effective ways to save your life and reduce injuries during crashes.


Louisiana’s September Teal Hunting Season opens September 19

Louisiana hunters will have an early opportunity to return to the marsh this weekend as the state’s September teal season opens Saturday, Sept. 19.

The Louisiana Department of Wildlife and Fisheries announced the statewide season will run Sept. 19-27, 2026.

During the special September season, hunters may harvest only blue-winged, green-winged and cinnamon teal. LDWF reminded hunters that black-bellied whistling ducks and all other waterfowl species are not legal to harvest during the September teal season. Teal may also be taken during Louisiana’s regular duck season, which begins in November.

Hunters are encouraged to make sure they have the required licenses, permits and certifications before heading into the field.

Waterfowl hunters age 16 and older are required to have a Federal Duck Stamp. Hunters age 18 and older must also possess a basic hunting license, waterfowl license and Harvest Information Program, or HIP, certification. Youth age 17 and younger are not required to have a hunting license.

Several LDWF Wildlife Management Areas provide teal hunting opportunities, including Pass-a-Loutre, Atchafalaya Delta, Pointe-aux-Chenes, Sherburne, Dewey Wills and Russell Sage WMAs. Visitors age 18 and older using WMAs must have the appropriate WMA access permit or a qualifying license.

LDWF is also reminding hunters to positively identify their target before shooting, particularly during the early teal season when other waterfowl species may be present.

The nine-day season concludes Sunday, Sept. 27. Hunters should review current LDWF regulations, licensing requirements and WMA-specific rules before hunting.


Get ready, fall bass fishing is almost here!

There are two times during the year that are awesome for bass fishing, spring and fall. During the spring, bass are moving up into the shallows to spawn and make more little bass. So, it’s a great time to catch that fish of a lifetime as the big females are full of eggs. In the fall, the bass are going through a feeding frenzy and fattening up for the winter which also makes for exciting fishing.

Of these two times of the year, fall is probably my favorite. If you want to catch fish in the fall, tie on any lure you want as long as it looks like a shad. 

Shad colored spinnerbaits or crankbaits are deadly during the fall. Bass will slowly migrate out of their deep summer haunts and will move up shallow and into the back of the creeks. 

They will literally go into ambush mode and destroy a school of baitfish. If whatever you’re throwing looks like shad, they will eat it! Here are few tips on what to throw if you’re not sure what you need to tie on. 

I love to catch them on a shad pattern spinnerbait this time of year. You can throw either a white or any type of shad color and catch fish. Your hook up ratio with a spinnerbait seems to be really good. But a good shad colored crankbait like a Bandit 100 or 200 series in a pearl color with a black back or a white splatter back will also put fish in the boat. 

It’s also a great time to throw a buzz bait or any kind of topwater bait. Bass love a walking style bait like Heddon Zara Spook in either chrome or white. 

But there’s also another bait that is pretty much a guarantee for catching fish in the fall, a rattling shad bait like a Bill Lewis Rattle Trap or a SPRO Aruku Shad. Both baits truly mimic the bait fish bass are gorging themselves on this time of year. 

Fall can also be an excellent time to go out on the lake and find new places you might want to fish next season. And if the lake is low, it’s really great to try to locate and mark those hard spots bass love to get on in the winter and early spring. 

Too many anglers miss out on some of the best bass fishing of year as they park their bass boats and load up four-wheelers and head to the woods. Many start to focus on getting deer stands cleaned out or building and dressing their duck blinds. 

So, take advantage of uncrowded boat ramps that the fall brings. Head out to your favorite lake and enjoy some of the best bass fishing of the year. You never know, you just might catch your personal best.   

Contact Steve at sgraf26@yahoo.com


Seinfeld pitched a ‘show about nothing’ on this day in 1992

On Sept. 16, 1992, “Seinfeld” introduced one of the most memorable concepts in television history when Jerry Seinfeld and George Costanza pitched NBC on a sitcom that was, essentially, about nothing.

The idea appeared in an episode titled “The Pitch,” which aired as part of the show’s fourth season. In the episode, Jerry and George are invited to pitch a television series to NBC. George comes up with the idea of creating a show about their everyday lives — with no traditional plot or premise.

The fictional pitch became one of the defining jokes of “Seinfeld,” a show that would go on to become one of television’s most recognizable sitcoms.

The episode aired on Sept. 16, 1992, making the date an especially fitting one for fans of the show — and for anyone who has ever wondered how a show about nothing could become such a big deal.


Ponderings: Going Through the Motions

In the early 1990s, video games were entering what I suppose we could call their second generation. Compared with what children play today, they were technologically primitive. But at our house, they were cutting-edge.

Our oldest daughter, Allison, asked for a Nintendo for Christmas—the one with Super Mario Brothers.

Christmas morning, the Nintendo was connected to our enormous twenty-five-inch console television. For those of you under forty, a console television was roughly the size of a small refrigerator, weighed slightly more than a Methodist church, and once you put it in the den, it stayed there until the Second Coming.

And Allison started playing Mario.

She was good at it. More importantly, she was persistent. If Mario needed to jump over something, she learned exactly when to jump. If there was a hidden passage, she found it. If there was some secret way through a level, she kept working until she discovered it.

She accumulated experience. She advanced through levels. She got better and better.

Every once in a while, she would let her younger brother Andrew play.

The rule was simple: You can play until you lose all your lives.

Andrew’s turn did not take long.

Bless his heart.

Mario would start running. Mario would hit something. Mario would die. A few moments later, Andrew would hand the controller back to Allison.

She tried to teach him.

“Jump here.”

“Don’t go that way.”

“Wait until that thing moves.”

“Push this button.”

None of it helped.

Then school started back. One afternoon Andrew got home before Allison. I told him, “Andrew, I’ve been working on a project for you.”

While the children had been at school, Dad had been playing Mario. This was not recreation. This was serious parental research. And while I played, I recorded the television onto our VCR—another ancient piece of technology. I had about thirty minutes of Mario being played reasonably well on videotape.

I told Andrew, “When Allison gets home, I’m going to play this tape. You sit on the floor with the controller and pretend you’re playing.”

Andrew immediately understood the spiritual gift God had given him for irritating his sister.

“Move the controller. Lean from side to side. Grunt occasionally. Act frustrated. Do everything Allison does.”

So when Allison came home, there sat her little brother in front of the television playing Mario. And he was magnificent. He sailed through places he could not get through the night before. He made impossible jumps. He advanced from level to level.

Finally Allison asked, “How did you learn to do that so fast?”

We had her. We absolutely had her. Until Andrew started giggling. He put the controller down, turned around, and grinned at his sister— and Mario kept playing.

“ANDREW!”

For a few wonderful minutes, Andrew looked like a gamer. He held the controller. He made all the right movements. He sat in the right place. He knew when to grunt. There was only one problem. He wasn’t actually playing the game.

I wonder sometimes whether that little scene from our den is a pretty good picture of what can happen in the Christian life. We learn how to hold the controller. We know when to stand and when to sit. We know the hymns. We know the prayers. We know when to say “Amen.” We know how Christians are supposed to look and sound. We can become very good at appearing to be disciples.

But Jesus never called us simply to look like disciples. He called us to follow him. To forgive when forgiveness is difficult. To love people we would rather avoid. To serve when serving is inconvenient. To trust when life is uncertain. To give generously. To pray honestly. To live differently because Christ is alive within us.

Faith is not something we merely watch somebody else do. It cannot be prerecorded for us by our parents, grandparents, preacher, or church. Eventually, we have to play. Every once in a while, perhaps all of us need to put down the controller and ask a hard but necessary question:

Am I really living this life of faith, or have I just gotten very good at going through the motions?


Benefit concert planned for Boston Pace

A benefit concert for Boston Pace will be held on Saturday, Oct. 3 from 3- 9 pm at the Lagniappe Event Center in Alexandria featuring country and Southern music performers from Louisiana, Texas and Nashville. Tickets for the benefit concert are $25 for general admission. Doors open at 2 p.m., with the concert scheduled from 3 to 9 p.m. Saturday, Oct. 3, at the Lagniappe Event Center, 7521 Coliseum Blvd. in Alexandria.

Tickets will be available online and at the door. Online tickets are available through Eventbrite at Eventbrite.

Boston Pace, 7, became ill with strep throat in March 2026 along with his two brothers. While his brothers recovered, Boston’s symptoms worsened, including vomiting and severe headaches. After initially testing negative for strep, doctors attributed his symptoms to a virus and later to heat-related illness. Despite efforts to keep him hydrated and indoors, his symptoms continued.

On June 14, Pace took Boston to the emergency room, where a CT scan revealed a mass on his brain. Doctors suspected diffuse midline glioma (DMG), an aggressive brain tumor. The family was referred to St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital, where doctors placed a shunt to drain excess cerebrospinal fluid and performed a biopsy that confirmed the diagnosis.

The event is presented by Buckshot Records LLC and Artist Development.

The lineup includes Jake Whyatt of Nashville, Tennessee; Heads or Tails Band of Alexandria, Louisiana; Thomas Tibbs of Jena, Louisiana; Pat Waters of Longview, Texas; and Big Green Tractor, Nashville’s tribute to Jason Aldean.

Organizers said the event will bring artists, businesses and community members together to show their support for Boston Pace and his family.

Jake Whyatt will travel from Nashville to join the benefit, along with Heads or Tails Band, Thomas Tibbs and Pat Waters. Big Green Tractor will close out the lineup.


Remember When: From Barstow to Calico

In the 1880s, getting mail in remote parts of the United States was exciting.  In the era before electricity, mail and newspapers were the only connection between rural communities and the outside world.  Dorsey was one of the many rural mail carriers for the U.S. Postal Service.  Rural in an understatement in his case.  You see, for several years in the 1880s, Dorsey was the only mail carrier between Barstow and Calico in California’s rugged Mojave Desert because no one else wanted the job.  Dorsey lived in the silver mining town of Calico, about 10 miles as the crow flies northeast of Barstow.  Ten miles may not seem like a great distance by our modern standards, but between Calico and Barstow stands the 2641-foot elevation Lead Mountain.  Going around Lead Mountain would have added another four miles each way to Dorsey’s trek, so Dorsey went up and over the mountain.  Dorsey did not ride in a wagon or on a horse.  He walked.        

Each day, Dorsey donned his satchel and began walking through the heat, dust, and over rugged terrain to Barstow.  He knew what time the train from the California Southern Railroad was scheduled to arrive in Barstow and so he left in plenty of time to meet it.  If Dorsey was ahead of the train, which he normally was, he rested and relaxed in town.  As soon as the train arrived, Dorsey met the postman at the train’s mail car, loaded his satchel with mail destined for Calico, and began the return trip.  On a good day, Dorsey could make the whole trip in about seven or eight hours.          

Half a century later, the people of Barstow began searching for a photograph of the local legendary mail carrier so they could honor him with his own U.S. Postage stamp.  Unfortunately, Dorsey’s likeness was never used on a postage stamp.  To the people of Barstow and the few inhabitants of Calico, Dorsey remains a local hero.  They still talk about his daily walks between their towns… on his four legs.  You see, Dorsey, the rural mail carrier, was a black and white collie.

 Sources:

1.     The Astorian (Astoria, Oregon), November 21, 1885, p.1.

2.     Desert Dispatch (Barstow, California), September 2, 1948, p.3.

3.     Desert Dispatch, August 27, 1973, p.10.    

 © 2026 Brad Dison. All rights reserved. Remember This? is distributed for licensed publication only.


Remembering Theresa “Granny” “Terri” Scott

A Celebration of Life for Theresa “Granny” “Terri” Scott will be held on Saturday, September 19, 2026 at Wimberly Cemetery in Ringgold, La at 2 o’clock. Officiating the service will be Brother Ford Pickering and Sister Linda Chance.

Theresa Annette Mahfouz Scott, went home to be with her Lord and Savior on Wednesday, September 9, 2026. Born on March 24, 1943, To the Late Abe and Grace Mahfouz. 

She lived a life marked by unwavering faith, deep grace and a boundless love for her family. Terri was a loving and devoted wife to her Late husband William “Bill” Scott.

She is survived by her sister, Carla Bond Shanahan and husband Kevin. She was a loving and devoted Mother to her daughters: Stacey LaCour and husband Curtis and LeeAnne George, and her special Niece who was like a daughter Melanie Huff and husband Joseph.

She cherished the moments with her Grandchildren: Colie Hall and Kris, Kayla Wooten and Scott, Taylor Lodridge, Zach George and Savanna, Grayson George and Savanna, Alyssa LaCour

She was so proud of her beautiful Great Grandchildren Gracie Northcutt, Liam George, Alaric George, Anne George, and her Honorary Great Grandchildren: Levy, Mckinnley, and Chase Manasco and Khloe Hall. Terri is also survived by her loving nieces, nephews and cousins.

Terri was a School Teacher in Desoto Parish for 20 years. 12 years in 4th grade at Stanley and 8 years in 7th/8th grade math at Desoto Junior High. Terri lived in Mansfield, La until 1991. She moved to Natchitoches to enjoy retirement and her grandchildren until 1999 when she moved to Black Lake. 

She was a faithful and devoted member of her church and was loved and respected so much by her church family and was affectionately adopted as Granny to many. She absolutely adored her Lord Jesus and His Church. Her favorite scripture was the 23rd Psalm and her favorite song was “In the Garden”, both of which express the intimate, personal joy of walking closely with Jesus and talking with Him daily.

Her hands were rarely still, she expressed her love through her hobbies which included crocheting, plastic canvas, ceramics, and oil painting.

She made prayer crosses with prayers that have been given out too many people. She loved giving her handmade gifts to loved ones. It became a true ministry and her gifts will always be treasured. 


United Airlines Flight 93: Patriots Engaging Airborne Terror

By Fire Chief Emeritus Michael Louis Kuk, PhD.

Without question, the story of United Airlines Flight 93 is one of the most profoundly moving and heroic chapters in American history.  It is a narrative that shifts rapidly from a routine morning flight to a terrifying crisis, and ultimately to a self-sacrificing battle that saved countless lives.

A beautiful Tuesday morning was found everywhere when Flight 93 went airborne on the morning of September 11, 2001.  As the early hours of the day unfolded, a rush of unknown terror filled the airspace of the upper eastern part of the United States, and one of America’s most infamous events started to unravel a peaceful passage of time in the skies.

One cannot imagine the horror that the plane’s crew and passengers faced that morning in the confined space of an aircraft.  It should have been an enjoyable experience of flight and travel to arrive at destinations of living a full life in the freedom of America.

The terrorists did not win that morning on Flight 93.  A group of determined American Patriots came together in mind, spirit, and courage to thwart the evil plans that America’s enemies wanted to carry out.  

America has been built upon sacrifice, and it was that same manner of resolve and sacrifice that stood up to evil, and win another battle for freedom.  The cost was high, but it will never be forgotten, and America will continue to be the bastion of freedom for the rest of the world to behold.  America’s defenders that morning were inspired to do what is right and just for the cause of mankind to sustain life and liberty, despite the cost of paying for it with their lives.  

The Delayed Departure

Out of the four flights involved on that fateful morning, there was one major scheduling glitch which caused a delay in the departure of the fourth aircraft at the Newark International Airport.

Thus United Airlines Flight 93 was not on time on the runway, causing the aircraft to not be in sync with the other three flights, all of which were headed for their respective flight paths to cause a massive wave of destruction. 

First of all, United Airlines Flight 93 was a fairly new Boeing Model 757 aircraft at that timeframe in air travel.  The Boeing sported a large fuselage body with a modern design and powerful engines for excellent thrust in takeoffs.  It easily established itself as a trusted aircraft in the skies around the world.  Being highly respected by the flight crews, and enjoyed by the countless number of passengers whenever a flight went airborne, people were delighted to board that plane to their destination.

On that sunny Tuesday morning, it was scheduled to fly from Newark International Airport in New Jersey to San Francisco, California.  Pretty much a routine westbound flight for the crew, and with excellent weather conditions, a stable and safe journey to be welcomed by the passengers, who were embarking on both business and pleasure activities.

  • The Crew and Passengers: On board were 7 crew members (including Captain Jason Dahl and First Officer LeRoy Homer Jr.) and 33 passengers.
  • The Hijackers: Mingled among them were the four hijackers: Ziad Jarrah (the pilot), Ahmed al-Nami, Ahmed al-Haznawi, and Saeed al-Ghamdi.
  • The Delay: The flight was scheduled to take off at 8:01 AM, but heavy airport traffic delayed their departure. The disruption of more and more flight delays of both arrivals and departures gave challenges of increased air traffic flow at Newark International. 

This growing situation compounded what the air traffic controllers were dealing with on a daily basis.  A lot of travelers were opting to use Newark and then take other ground modes of transportation into New York City.  

The plane didn’t lift off until 8:42 AM—just four minutes before the first plane struck the North Tower of the World Trade Center.  This 41-minute delay would inadvertently change the course of history.

Information Trickles In

For the first 45 minutes, the flight proceeded normally.  The aircraft kept gaining altitude and traversing the skies smoothly to its determined flight path.  There was quiet and calm in the passenger section of the plane.  Light breakfast snacks and beverages were being served, and no one expected anything to turn ugly.  The plane finally reached its cruising altitude of 35,000 feet over Pennsylvania and turned west toward Ohio.

Meanwhile, the world below was fracturing.  New York City and its population throughout the five boroughs was being thrust rapidly into a war zone.  An unknown enemy, a ponderous destruction of iconic buildings, with death appearing everywhere on the streets below, and without question, something horrific attacking everyone’s lives in lower Manhattan.  Of which New Yorkers were totally unprepared for.  

The first tower struck at the World Trade Center was thought to be an accident.  A real tragedy that was going to test New York City’s 1st Responders.  No one thought it was an act of terror.  Just horrible bad luck and very poor judgment on the pilot of the aircraft.  

The tower appeared stable, despite the elevated crash and fire, with heavy dark smoke issuing forth from the impact zone.  Everyone had faith that New York’s Bravest of the FDNY would handle the fire, rescue the building’s occupants, and get everything under control, despite the high-rise challenges that come with the duty of serving as a firefighter in our Nation’s largest city.

But by 9:03 AM, the second tower was hit by another terrorist controlled aircraft.  This act quickly changed everyone’s thinking that we are now dealing with acts of terror via aircraft as weapons of mass destruction.

By 9:24 AM, United Airlines dispatchers began sending out text message warnings to all of their pilots: “Beware any cockpit intrusion—Two aircraft have now hit the World Trade Center in an act of terror.”

At 9:26 AM, Captain Dahl responded, asking for more clarification.  In his mind, he had to be asking himself, would he and his aircraft become involved in an attack of some sort while still in the sky?  He probably was also asking his co-pilot if any of this seemed real, and to watch the radar screen closely for any approaching aircraft near or on their flight path.  Unfortunately it was his last normal communication.  Flight 93’s radio traffic stopped at that moment.

The Takeover (9:28 AM)

At 9:28 AM, all hell broke loose on Flight 93.  The aircraft was flying over Cleveland, Ohio at that moment, and the hijackers immediately started their attack in the air.  The four terrorists quickly scrambled out of their seats, grabbing passengers and cabin crew members.  They displayed knives and large razor like construction blades to everyone.  Although not confirmed, it is believed that one terrorist struck an innocent passenger with his improvised weapon, causing them harm.  This cowardly act sent a shockwave to all who witnessed the attack that this was for real!  War in the air was just declared by the terrorists! 

Meanwhile on the ground, air traffic controllers suddenly heard unmistakable bursts of screaming, scuffling, and shouts of “Get out of here!” over the cockpit radio. The hijackers, armed with their small knives, managed to gain entry into the cockpit.  The crush of foreboding trouble was now at the threshold for the United Airlines’ pilots and personnel of Flight 93.

They first turned their attention to the pilot and co-pilot by shouting at them to leave their seats and controls, while directly forcing them to comply with their concealed weapons being waved wildly in the atmosphere.  They also loudly proclaimed to have a hidden bomb on board, and would activate it if their orders were not obeyed immediately. Despite their commands in broken English, their message of terror was well understood by all.

Of special note regarding the bomb, it was found that during the intense post-crash investigation on the ground near Shanksville, Pennsylvania, it was determined and later revealed to be a fake threat, as no debris evidence yielded any bomb and/or incendiary materials.  It was one of the hijackers’ scary maneuvers to force their way into the cockpit for control of the aircraft.

Once the terrorists gained control of the aircraft and were firmly seated in the cockpit, Jarrah took the controls in a rather calm and determined manner, thereby turning the plane around from its original flight path.  He then headed back in an easterly direction.  His new flight path actually shadowed US Route 30 on the ground below.  

US Route 30 is very well known as the Lincoln Highway.  This notable roadway stretches across our Nation, encompassing 3,000 miles.  During his time in office, President Lincoln used that path of travel to return to his home state of Illinois during his presidency.  Thus, US Route 30 will take one directly into DC, and then with a few extra turns, it becomes an easy connection to Pennsylvania Avenue and the White House. 

Of course, with the Capitol also being in close reach from Pennsylvania Avenue and Route 30, both nearby historic structures would be of immeasurable target value to any terrorist.  Overall, US Route 30 is a much chronicled highway in our Nation’s history.  Our enemies know this fact all too well.

A noted railroad line also parallels the highway.  The Union Pacific Railroad built their tracks to mirror the path of the highway.  Union Pacific’s management wanted to provide a more rapid mode of transportation in the early days of America spreading westward, but also staying duly connected with the seat of the Federal Government.  

By maintaining this new course of travel, and in concert with the highway direction of Route 30 below the aircraft, the evil mindset of terrorist/pilot Jarrah was truly aiming directly for Washington, D.C., and a handsome collection of America’s treasures in our Nation’s Capital.

His intended target is widely believed to have been the U.S. Capitol Building or the White House.  It’s entirely possible that Jarrah was receiving critical damage information all the while in the airplane’s cockpit via a cell phone, and also being updated as to which target in DC would cause the greatest casualties and destruction.

The Airphone Calls: Operational Intelligence

While the struggles in the cockpit were going on, the other two hijackers forced the cabin crew and passengers to the back of the plane.  Since the terrorists could not watch every angle of the plane’s new “manifest” hostages, they started to quietly communicate with each other via eye sight, blinking, and other body language to come up with a plan for a counterattack to regain control of the plane.

Some were hopeful that they were just hostages being held for leverage, but then they started learning about the Twin Towers attacks and the Pentagon strike.  They then knew that this was a deathtrap, to say the least.   Finally the passengers, with help from the cabin crew, began using the aircraft’s GTE Airphones and their personal cell phones to call loved ones and authorities.

Overall, in the remaining few minutes of life in the sky, they made a total of 37 calls.  Through these conversations, a devastating reality set in, and it was confirmed that America was under attack, but not in a war scenario like World War II or even Vietnam.   It was a combination of planned terror, with unsuspecting aircraft as the weapons, to render as much damage to America and its institutions of prominence.  All on board came to realize the following and extremely shocking information:

  • They learned about the twin towers of the World Trade Center collapsing.
  • They learned about the Pentagon being hit at 9:37 AM.
  • The Hard Realization: They weren’t hostages in a traditional hijacking. Their plane was now a guided missile, and going towards an unknown target, to inflict death and damage to anything that is valuable to the United States.  Ultimately, they knew that they were already dead, unless they did something about it immediately.

Some of the last conversations of loved ones spoke of courage in the face of death.  “Deena, they are breathing fire.  They are going to use this plane to destroy something.  It’s up to us.  I think we can take them.” — Passenger Tom Burnett, Jr., in a phone call to his wife, Deena.  Courage was now replacing fear!

The Vote and the Plan

Putting fear aside and instead of panicking, the passengers organized.  A group of fighters was coming up to take action.   A core group—including Todd Beamer, Mark Bingham, Tom Burnett, and Jeremy Glick—retreated to the back of the cabin to formulate a plan.

They took a vote, and their decision was unanimous…they would fight back!  It would be bold, but no other choice could be made.  They knew that some would have to suffer injury and possible death to counteract the ongoing work of the terrorists.  When one is in a confined space, with limited resources like a ship on the ocean, there are few options for defense.  This is what they faced in the final moments of Flight 93’s time in the air.  A fight for freedom!

Without question, they weaponized what they had access to—hot water from the galley, heavy catering carts, coffee pots, forks, and even rolled-up magazines.  Anything that could hurt another human being was put in close proximity for use by the team.  These items were ready to be used as improvised weapons of defense.  Nothing of value was overlooked.

Just before the counterattack began, Todd Beamer tried to place a call to his wife, but couldn’t get through.  He was connected instead to GTE supervisor Lisa Jefferson.  She listened to what he said about going up against the hijackers.  After detailing their plan and praying the Lord’s Prayer together, Beamer turned to the other passengers.  His last audible words over the open line became the rallying cry for our nation:

“Are you guys ready?  Let’s roll!”

The Counterattack (9:57 AM)

Todd Beamer’s open line was being heard intensely and recorded by the GTE staff on the ground. What the GTE personnel heard at 9:57 AM was the rush and noisy chaos of a group of determined American Patriots, going for broke in taking back the control of the aircraft, no matter what the cost.  The passenger revolt against the terrorists began without delay.  No one hesitated in going forward to do battle with this evil group, who only wanted to inflict death upon innocent people, and destroy their communities and livelihoods.   

Beamer and his resolute team of fighters first sprinted down the narrow aisle, and knocked down the two main cabin hijackers with their improvised weapons.  It is believed that the hijackers were quickly overpowered, thereby becoming knocked out and unconscious.  It is also believed that they both suffered serious, if not fatal blows, to render them completely out of action.  

Now the fight for the cockpit was paramount.  Regaining control of the aircraft meant everything.  Otherwise, this aircraft would find its target and submit a final succession of terror upon America.  This bold action, led by a very courageous Todd Beamer, became the prime mission objective for the retaking of the plane.  Mission failure was not the anticipated result.

Beamer’s team started using a food cart as a battering ram against the cockpit door.  The cockpit voice recorder, via the back-up recording of the plane’s Black Box, captured the terrifying and chaotic sounds of the struggle.  One could hear the smashing of heavy dishes, with shouting and indiscernible screams as the doorway was being rammed. 

Inside the cockpit the two sole hijackers were desperately trying to keep the door blocked.  Each new blow was weakening the integrity of the lightweight door and its frame rails.  It was slow work, but Beamer and his fighters were not going to give up.  Total success of disabling the hijackers was close at hand.  Entry into the cockpit was the end game. 

Now realizing that he was about to lose everything that the hijackers accomplished a short while ago, Jarrah was starting to panic.  The door was failing, and he knew that one of the relentless blows was going to be the final straw to be broken for entry, thus he felt that he needed to take another course of action against the passengers.  

So to throw the passengers’ attacks off balance, Jarrah began violently rocking the plane left and right with his joystick.  He slammed it left and right to make the aircraft pitch itself into a series of scary shakes.  Even though he thought he was gaining the upper hand, he quickly noted that no one was giving up.  He figured that they would overpower him, and end his evil mission. 

He even went so far as to pitch the nose up and down. This action had no negative effect on the passengers.  They didn’t stop.  They didn’t want to.  They just kept pounding on the door, and Jarrah knew that it would soon be over for him.  He would have failed in his mission to reach the inside of DC for a juicy target.

By 10:00 AM, Jarrah realized the passengers were seconds from breaching the cockpit and overpowering them at the controls.  He felt that only one final piece of action would work.

The Crash (10:03 AM)

In his final and desperate act to prevent Beamer and the rest of the passengers from taking the wheel, Jarrah rolled the plane upside down.  He could easily see the ground below him.  He even caught a glimpse of US Route 30.   Jarrah, now in a state of unforgiving desperation, took the controls, thereby moving the plane’s speed to a very high rate of descent.  In the post-crash analysis, it was determined that he drove the aircraft into the ground at over 560 miles per hour.

Without any further embellishment, Flight 93 crashed into an empty reclamation coal field in Shanksville, Pennsylvania, at 10:03 AM.  The destruction and resultant fire was immediate.

All of the 40 passengers and crew members died instantly.  The impact of unforgiving percussion would have easily killed anyone else being on the ground within a short range also. 

United Airlines Flight 93 was only about 20 minutes of flying time away from the heart of Washington, D.C.


Louisiana OMV to close customer service centers September 14 for system modernization

All Louisiana Office of Motor Vehicles customer service centers will be closed Monday, Sept. 14, 2026, for system modernization efforts and staff training.

All private companies contracted to do business with the OMV, including Public Tag Agents and Auto Title Companies, will be unable to perform driver’s license, reinstatement, vehicle registration and title transactions from Saturday, Sept. 12, through Monday, Sept. 14.

Additionally, the OMV’s website, Expresslane.la.gov, and LA Wallet will be temporarily unavailable from Saturday, Sept. 12, through Sunday, Sept. 13.


When a town comes together, great things can happen

I’m a huge fan of the Little League World Series. There’s so much joy watching baseball at its purest form, kids having fun in a game that has been played for over a century, not worried about how much money they are making.

It’s probably the one time in a young baseball player’s life that money is not a factor. It’s kids playing a game they grew up with on a sandlot or in the side yard of their neighbor’s house. 

This is how I learned to play baseball, either on a sandlot or in someone’s backyard. Sure, there were a few broken windows and an occasional broken nose when someone (probably me) lost control of a fastball. But at the end of the day, it was just a part of the game we all loved!

Of course, once a window was broken, we scattered like a covey of quail and ran to our houses as if nothing had ever happened. No one wanted to accept or admit they were responsible for the damage done. But eventually over time, the truth would come out and the person responsible had to pay for the window either by handing over cash or doing yard work for a month, or maybe even both. 

While we very seldom had enough players to field a full team, baseball is the only game that I’m aware of where you have ghost runners. That’s right, imaginary runners who could literally fly around the bases. You could play with 3-4 players on a team and make it work, all due to the ghost runner rule.  

The thing about growing up in a small Texas town was that there really were neighborhood rivalries. East side vs. West side, North side vs. South side. One elementary school vs. another. The rivalries were real until you got to high school and you became one team. 

What is the secret to a winning athletic program? Well, in the town of Mt. Pleasant, Texas, during the 1970s, the athletic talent level was insanely high for such a small town. There were many great athletes coming through MPHS during this time frame. The Mt. Pleasant Tigers had a statewide reputation for winning and doing well in all sports. 

Championship teams were a constant and expectations from the community were high. But the one thing I remember the most was the support we had from the school and the community itself. 

The leadership came from a lot of people like the mayor, school principals, teachers, booster club members, the student body, auxiliary groups, coaches and our parents, that paved the way for so many championship teams. You cannot put a price on how much community support means. 

We took pride in representing Mt. Pleasant High School and looked forward to anyone who wanted to challenge the Mt. Pleasant Tigers in any sport.

I was so blessed to have the opportunity to play for a Texas baseball state championship in 1978 and win. I’ll never forget what our head coach told the team after we won. “Fellows, this win tonight will mean more to you later in life than it does now.” Truer words have never been spoken.

To this day at the young age of 65, it’s the proudest moment I have ever experienced as an athlete including the day I signed to play college football and baseball at Northwestern State. Winning a state title has meant more to me than being drafted by Major League Baseball.

There’s something special about growing up in a small town and winning a state title during your high school years, playing with guys and friends you grew up with. 

It’s that closeness and comradery that made us great, along with the talent we possessed as a team. It has made us friends for life as we continue to get together from time to time to celebrate our accomplishment and share the same stories over and over. 

The one thing I have noticed over time is just how much better we have gotten with each passing year. That’s right, we’re now legends in our own minds!  

How lucky was I to have been a part of such a great community of people who cared about and made sure we had the support we needed to be successful! I would like to say thank you to those who played a part in not only my personal success, but the success of many teams that represented Mt. Pleasant High School. Go Tigers!

Contact Steve at sgraf26@yahoo.com


Ponderings: Stop Shouting

“We don’t understand it, but your muffler is disintegrating from the inside.”

For once, the description of the noise my truck was making actually matched the noise it made for the service technician. Usually, when you take a vehicle to the shop, it immediately begins behaving like a child in front of company.

“It was doing it all the way over here,” you say.

The mechanic starts the engine.

Silence.

The truck sits there looking innocent.

But Saturday it cooperated.

“Eventually,” the service man explained, “your muffler will completely disintegrate, and your truck will become very loud.”

There are at least two ways you know you are getting old. The first is when the phrase “your truck will become very loud” sounds more like a threat than a promise. When I was younger, a loud truck might have been impressive. Now I want my muffler to do exactly what its name implies: muffle. Loud and old do not mix well—whether we are talking about trucks, music, neckties, or people explaining their opinions at restaurants.

The second way you know you are old is Muzak. If you step into an elevator, a doctor’s office, or a car dealership and realize the gentle instrumental music playing in the background is the same song your parents once yelled, “TURN THAT GARBAGE DOWN!” about—you are old. Saturday, Muzak was playing while the service man described my disintegrating muffler.

There was no denying it.

I am old.

And suddenly I began imagining life with a loud truck. Would people hear me pulling into the church parking lot before they saw me? Could I lead a funeral procession in it? Would the Baptists think I had joined the youth group? Would the Catholics begin praying for me?

“How much will it cost to fix?”

It was going to be expensive. Apparently, disintegrating from the inside was not covered by the warranty. That phrase stayed with me. Disintegrating from the inside.

How is your muffler?

Because mufflers are not the only things that can look reasonably good on the outside while quietly falling apart where nobody can see.

People can do it too.

Discouragement is a kind of interior rust. You start with faith, hope, and love. But disappointment works on you. Frustration works on you. Anger works on you. Fear works on you. And if you do not continually center your life in Christ, the corrosion begins. Often the problem is not that God has abandoned us. The problem is that we have decided exactly how God ought to behave. We get a plan fixed in our heads, a result fixed in our hearts, and a timetable fixed on the calendar. Then, when God refuses to cooperate, we become discouraged. Slowly, quietly, something begins disintegrating on the inside.

And here is another thing I learned about mufflers: When they deteriorate on the inside, eventually they get loud on the outside. That may explain more about our world than we would like to admit. Public discourse has become a contest to see who can be loudest. Conversation has been replaced by competition. Listening has become a lost art. We no longer seem content to disagree with somebody; we must defeat them, embarrass them, label them, or shout over them. Maybe all that exterior noise is telling us something about our interior condition.

Maybe some of us need our spiritual mufflers repaired. There is a verse of Scripture that both comforts and confronts. Eight simple words that can aggravate people who are determined to stay loud and bring wonderful hope to those who know something inside them needs restoring:

“Be still, and know that I am God.”
—Psalm 46:10

Be still. Stop shouting. Stop insisting. Stop rehearsing everything that is wrong. Stop telling God how God ought to run the universe. Be still long enough to remember who God is—and who you are. Maybe faith, hope, and love are not restored by becoming louder. Maybe they return when we become quiet enough to hear God again.

I get it, Lord.

Will you help me repair my muffler?