On boots and bars and motorbikes...

If there's one thing the Rev. Bryan Heyer says he knows to be true, it's that members of Sts. Cyril and Methodius Catholic Church in Shiner know a thing or two about community service. They always have, and most likely, always will. “Our church was literally built by the service of its members,” Father Bryan said. “In fact, even the building itself stands testament to that service. It’s tradition of serving that continues on strong still today.” Anyone who might question that fact only need lay eyes on their beautiful landmark red brick church building in Shiner, each stone of it built from the ground up by the hands and backs of local parishioners, who spent the better part of two entire years, from 1920-1921, making sure every element of it was simply perfect. And this coming Sunday, July 11, parishioners from all over, both past and present, will have the opportunity celebrate those many years of service, when Father Bryan and Victoria Diocese Bishop Brendon Cahill come toge...

Some monsters will keep you up nights. But in the heart of Texas, our monsters are all too often, all too real... That's how Madville's editorial director Kimberly Davis teased the stories that have become my book, after picking a picture for the cover that you'd swear slipped right out of an old family album someplace, based on little more than a few words I lumped together in an attempt to express a coherent thought. Believe me, "attempt" was just about all I managed in some of those earlier drafts.  Still, the Davis officially added Long Gong & Lost: True Fictions and Other Lies to its 2019-2020 Catalog, a week before the start of the annual AWP Conference in Portland, Ore., and mere days after they officially signed yours truly as one of their newest authors.  In case that title is seeming awfully familiar, it is the same basic manuscript I submitted for my final thesis project in the University of Houston-Victoria's MFA creative wr...

Viola Konvicka, 90, of Hallettsville passed away Sept. 7, 2018. She was born on Aug. 4, 1928 to Anton J. and Angelina Berckenhoff Koncaba in Moulton. She married Victor F. Konvicka on Sept. 24, 1947, at St. Joseph's Catholic Church in Moulton. Viola was a lifelong farmer and rancher, as well as working for Weingarten’s and Stephen’s Nursing and Rehab Center in Hallettsville before retiring from Kaspar Wire Works in Shiner in the late 1990s to care for her husband Victor and his brother, Leon Konvicka, who lived with them most of his life. Viola is survived by daughter, Irene Remlinger and husband Chuck of Katy; son-in-law Jim Horecka and wife Marty of Yoakum; sister, Patsy Faltisek of Rosenberg, three grandsons, Bobby Horecka and wife Jennifer of Victoria, Kirk Remlinger and wife Asli of Katy, and Craig Remlinger and wife Mary of Katy; 10 great-grandchildren, Bradley Horecka, Aryn Horecka and Cheyanne Mathis of Terrell; Preston Remlinger, Jake Remlinger, Claire Remlinge...

Bluestem Literary Magazine, May 2018 is now live, Complete and UNCUT !!!!   You can even hear audio by Outlaw Extraordinaire Bobby Horecka . Mr. Man Candy by BOBBY HORECKA I always take him with a few grains of salt.  Not too much.  I mean, dude’s always been on the rotund side, and he’s got a heart condition, for Christ’s sake.  But don’t take everything he tells you at face value.  You just can’t.  Don’t get me wrong: I love Bubba to death.  Known him for almost ten years now.  Together, we’ve caught rivers of fish, travelled the world, and even started our own construction business.  He’s the type of dude you don’t mind loaning money, the sort of fellow you toss your housekeys and ask to feed your dog while you’re away, and he’s absolutely the type of dude you want at your back in a barfight.  Still, when he called me one day and said he spent the afternoon on his front porch with a Playboy Bunny, I said the fir...

A San Marcos mainstay, Bill Cunningham was often seen roaming around the city, donning a fedora and sunglasses, and talking books, history and general coolness. A writer, activist and former Texas State University regent, Cunningham died Thursday. He was 69. He was remembered by friends and loved ones as thoughtful, witty and well-loved. “Bill was kind of an icon in San... https://www.mystatesman.com/news/local-obituaries/writer-activist-and-san-marcos-icon-bill-cunningham-dies/1sU8170kfoJf6ocRXpcpKP/ -30- I ran across that bit of news, wishing a buddy of mine from San Marcos a happy birthday. I came to find out he's libel to be locked up for the next three to five (if he's lucky--something about lugees and cops, again, and a string of other litanies--strike two for him). Another friend told me that shortly before he told me he's off to Georgia soon. The same fellow, in fact, who introduced me to the other fellow in the news obit. I'm just getting old, I ...

A flashback in time, if ever there was: My grandpa, cap backwards, as always, one of his many dogs always nearby (that one's Major), and a little light-haired boy, who, as regular as the dogs and the cap, were just part of who he was.  And Part III: Just to make sure we’re all still on the same page, we’re all following what's happened so far: Mom’s driving at warp speed (or twenty, it’s kind of hard to tell with it being bumpy as hell), and Grandpa just hollered up some new directions to her i a language I don't know. So, we're rolling along at a mighty good clip, and I’ve finally spotted what Grandpa's so all-fired excited about. It's barely a speck in the sky, and despite us now it trailing it at bone-rattling speeds in an old truck across cattle, that speck in the sky seems to be leaving us behind. Last but not least, Grandpa had me move from near the tailgate, where moments ago I was pitching hay to cows, to right beside him near the cab, which I h...

Photo retrieved via Bing Images and credited to The Audubon Society. After a slight diversion yesterday--sorry, a lot of things all came together all at once that needed dealing with--we're back, as promised, to one of the stories from my book: Chicken Hawk Down (Part 2) If you remember from our last segment, Grandpa grabbed this old gun and hollered something at Mom that made her kick that old truck into gears not typically seen blazing across a gopher hole riddled cattle pasture. I missed all the details of what got said exactly, not because I wasn't paying attention, but because it got spoken in a language no one wanted me learning back then. Being from my part of Texas--namely South Texas--most people generally assume that such conversations would only involve one language, the one spoken a few miles south in Mexico. But, as you'll read today, that's not always the case. Not in an immigrant family like mine, anyway. In fact, there were probably lo...