Kay Buena's Blog

Betty Jane is the kind of doll that most kids can tell is a doll to “play with” and not just look at.  My mother gave me the dubious and questionably intelligent Betty Jane, on my 4th birthday.  At first with her long blond hair and a surprised look, and prim red serious smile, I took her to be the kind of doll  you look at, but was not the all together trusted friend she became.  Even though she was given to me in her own traveling trunk and with a decent wardrobe (encluding a Coat and boots, handy those’  back when  we lived where it snowed and seemed miserably cold in the winter…Where were we?  North Carolina ?, who knows… ) that my mother had made herself on the Singer sewing machine we had back then. Actually I remember how pleased I was with what was the nicest gift ever .  Though she seemed  somewhat aloof, in that manner that makes any doll too fancy when it’s new.  However, upon further examination and extensive hours spent in her company, I found her to be extremely smart, having a proclivity for solving the most heinous crimes (much like Perry Mason’s Della Street), with her wit, wisdom and logic…  three things that most 4 year old kids lack, big time. So she was ever so valuable an addition to our household back in the early 1950’s. I was a little girl then, happy but hyper, and I had an older brother, who refused to play dolls, as was his choice.  Because we moved so much, and friends came and went, my brother and I were closer than most siblings, both in age and as playmates, simply because he and I were the only kids constantly available.  So we compromised, an unusual even for sure, as we began to grow and become aware of literature and plays (this was before we had a TV, for the most part.) But radio and no TV really helped with our imaginations, and before too long my brother agreed to “play” with me and my dolls, under the given fact that all my stuffed animals were boys and all dolls were girls (my department.)  But the star of the show, and the most clever and strong of the lot was “Foxie”.

keep in mind that I am 60 years old and that I still have Betty Jane.  Foxie recieved a Military funeral years ago.  She and I once again became friends when I decided to put her next to my computer, so we could  again re-establish our relationship.  This was  just after I shot said computer.  If you click on one or all of the pictures, you can observe the direct hit at about 10 paces (a 22 hollow point-long rifle bullet went right fine amungst it’s horrible intrills) as the bullet hole can be detected near the middle of that old Dell, which I had for many years. This picture was taken about 4 years ago, before the birth of my Grandaughter and our sobering up around here.  Betty Jane does not approve of computers, as all one does all day these days, with one of these dang things, is sit and stare into what looks like a box to her. It is a a bizarre act, I must agree if you stop and think that over. I’m not talking about shooting that computer.  It had it coming, believe me…I’m talking about staring into it, for hours on end.  I am enclosing 4 pictures of the occassion of when she took over my study (or what ever room  that should be called now) and that particular wounded computer, to hang her panties and dress on a clothes line strung upon part of the unplugged computer that was handy. Where-ever that was. Well, this was convenient for her. While waiting for them to dry, she found a piece of velvet fabric which she wraped around herself as though it was a toga. Like I said, Betty Jane is no fool and doesn’t take prisoners.  She hadn’t washed her clothes in about 40 years, so I agree that it was high time to be doing that.  But that’s later.

      This “Foxie” Character first appeared in my brother’s plays &/or dramas, much to my mothers sad realization, when my brother and I played in her closet one day and found among her coats and jackets a real fox jacket, that’s collar was made of two entwined fox tails with a simplified fox head that clamped the collar together by his mouth. As bizarre as this seemed to us, there was no other option but to logically free foxie.  And although this addition to a costly coat was not an approved action, we some how, detached the fox head with it’s flowing tails from that coat with no mercy.  Then Foxie became the star of our shows, the man.  As he was an an obvious addition to our company of crime solving dolls and stuffed animals, or that was our excuse was back then. We ripped him off, grabed him and ran. This left the coat a torn up mess on the floor of my mothers closet, not that we cared.   Thus Foxie proceeded to star in our complex and semi rediculous stories, for several years until he was an unsightly mess, I must say…(and looking back in my memory, my mother put up with more crap from us two kids than most mothers, because my brother and I were hyperactive fiends.) Whats new there?    

 As one can imagine, Mother was not all together pleased with this arrangement, however she had a nice warm scarf that could top that jacket, so foxie was free at last, and obviously ours. “Foxie” was a combo Perry Mason, violent Soldier, and very clever crime fighting genius, who would right all the many wrongs in the stories we made up. My Brother, who thinks I’m crazy as a nit house mouse, probably does not remember Foxie and that gang of merry players.  But I do. 

So More about Betty Jane’s current critiqes and adventures will appear on this site from time to time… later, and  with pictures and drawings…..to be continued…There are many a horrible but anecdotal and much revered memories of that lot to be revealed to you ,  in the immediate future. 

So check back and notice them.

Thanks for visiting my blog and I hope you’er cool, comfortable, have your feet up and a big glass of Iced beverage.  Its  105 out side in Austin , Texas.  No lie…I guess we must have had a cool front come through last night.

As ever,

Caroline Abbitt Sauer (AKA)  KayBuena@KayBuena.com

P.S.  Ms. Buena appreciates all comments of real value or idiocy, (?) to be sent to her email account, so as to back up all the software’s attempt to clear the queue of spy-ware and spam. That should make my husband very happy. Go ahead: Tell me something, that is not obscene.

     I’m so padantic, they fine me for stuff like that.  And who woud not  (ah, yoda again, so soon…)

i’m a wrtrectk.  I’m fallin apart body part, by body part;  And it  aint[ no fun, no how. I’m weary of wondering if what i do is real?  Why is it such toruble?i  t wouldn’t   have to be . I don’;t even think this things too far out there., PLease just rememeber your dealing with a phychologically-changedened challendged ‘Ortist type, who thinks she’s still a musician, who am too  old- school  as to not interest  even her, the wrtectk. I Jus out to warn yehh that, we’s in a higher plan of perversitiy in our musical interests.  I don’t know if I can sing the ‘ chopin, d minor, meditation;  The pitch would kill a couple of small dogs, but I sang it fair near to adequate, for tracks over dubed and mutli haromey vocals, ect,  solo’s… This is realy simpley Hard rock, packed up locked and then out -only enough for a couple of it to notice at the same time.  This might have an appeal to all. I hope. luch should be included to you as served by my  pointy boys; mainly my Yoa ming Siamesea kittie ad Charles, who wouldnt  stay more than 2 minutes off schedual  (his…to hwich any other suggestion of action taken or made do , by us two.  Then I gots a couple of fine tunes 1Merle Haggard’s. ” Silver Wings” ; I have an extra verse I hope he likes.  Charles cousins’ BF got a link from him not too long ago…mybe he[ll use that verse to bring that back.. He’s the one to do that, the rest just plunged into my inner being, with no excuse.  See you tomorrow.

 don’t take it real seriojusly- better it be amusing.  If sanility is in the cards yol'[‘ just have to pictch in and fix it.  I’m better between all of us, we couled get real iight on a couple of songs by Bob Marlay, ‘One Cup of Coffee and I’ll go.”  It’s so semmingly seriously interesting , as in the marketing of same;  so i’m a tad demented, you’;d be too if twas you had had my life so far…I ‘ve seen the bootem of the cement clank, in psyc. watch…they have me pegged.   If Any thing terns out plasible, lets send it to Tony Glover;  I know this old boy whats; name am Powel St. John, who plays with soem fine frineds of my I speck.  Heck, maybe wE”ll send it to Tony Glover.  I knew that old boy. back in the old days.  I’m too tired to be horibliikty absutd.  If I don’t; watch I will play Chopin, if only Shadria was able ot come…she sight reads I would ‘magine, she plays so buetigully, that it breaks your heat. and If if there were a coupli of closet Mike Mucus’es in the lead guitar trick area. have we got a deal for you.

Sorry, I’m real tired.  got to sleep, maybe.  drink lots of liquids, we’ll give yhe a tea bag ter suck on later.

 Abbitt Sauer (AKA) KayBunea   luck be wit jeh, yee who’d more than erned it.  I

…the mierde hit the fan, as it tends to do.

              Lackluster Thought buster

If you took every thing you knew and divided it by two,

you’d be on to what you knew, wouldn’t you?

But if Time was like a clock, and was measured glued and locked,

would you sit around and watch?

Today, being father’s day, it only seems appropriate that I tell you fine folks a bit (pun) about my Dad, Col. Charles Webb Abbitt (U.S.A.F.(ret.)), who has always amazed me in many ways: How could a person, regardless of age and other factors, be so gol darned disciplined about actually doing the things he says he will do? Once I asked him something about this, when I was in high school in Houston, Texas, as every morning he’d hit the freeway way before 7:00am.  His job was high pressured as he was involved in the design and activation of Mission Control from the start till that day of my inquisition in the  the early l960’s( first from 1956 at the “cape”, an then where Headquarters for the Space Program for the USofA moved on to Houston.) He said something to the effect of “I have no choice in the matter.”

This was a shocking answer to me, sluggard Military Brat that I had always been. But the sheer, clear, Black and white, finite answer to my estupido question, made me realize right then, that any person’s present, and future is dependent on their past. I know that is a reality seemingly dumber than a door knob.  And that I realized that- so late in life-was not a prodigy- like philosophic sign.   However, that was the time, when one of those “eureka”, life changing thoughts, satorial to my 16 year old person, was revealed to my feeble brain.  Believe me, those kind of thoughts didn’t start haunting me until my old age, when it’s way too late to change.  But here is my rational theory for his dependability and dedication for exellence (way beyond the call of duty):  My good old Dad graduated from Virginia Military Institute, back in the days when they where still being tortured and trained to be cavalry soldiers. There were no “female, women of the opposite sex,”in those days as students (his quote) to distract them, as there are now. And just as an example, all VMI students slept with the windows open, regardless of how cold it was in Lynchburg, Virginia, in that Winter. Each “rat” or freshman took his turn being the one to go close all the windows and light the fires in the winter before revelry (05:00 am. eastern time.) And all students carried their rifle on their right shoulder at all times (just to get used to that…) to class, to eat, etc.  My mom always claimed that was why his right leg was 1/2 shorter than the left one, and looking back she was probably right.  Dad went from a loving family life, not far from their family farm at 16 years old- into that Intense and really quite brutal training, and to say nothing of difficult college classes, all in one 4 year experience. (Heck, it took me 5 years to get my BFA at UT, and I graduated mostly cause they’d had it with me. ) He majored in Electrical Engineering, ’cause he found that “right interesting.” And Dad graduated in 1941, only to be sent right into the U.S. Army (no summer vacation for him). This was before the United States was officially at war, however there was a R.A.F. in England, and soon there was an U.S. Army Air Corp as well. At one point his brigade was flying gasoline to the ground troupes Under General Patton, as the Alis made progress to the Rhine River in Germany and on to crush the Nazis. All with out getting blown up to smithereens, even once.

I am one lucky “Baby-Boomer” to be alive today, considering the dangers he faced during his whole career during World War II, and the remaining dangers he continued to face  with 20 years in the Air Force.   He retired a full Colonel, and then went directly into one of the companies contracting to NASA, when it went from a Military Operation into being more the aspiration of President Kennedy’s dream of future Space Travel,and the goal of landing on the Moon.  As the military developed these possibilities, that became more of a scientific achievement, than merely the defense department’s superior weaponry and such; the Space Program became more publicly available.  many aspects of Nasa’s Space Program were non- military, and were provided with equipment and personnel using private contractors.  Upon his first retirement from the Air Force, he went to work for what was then Philco-Ford. (This was in the time frame of when I asked him that question, on “how he could keep up that pace, with-out seriously wanting to role over in bed and sleep 6 more hours ?..”.) He progressed, from the start of the space program, to more or less Administrative duties over those dudes we always saw at their desks on TV, with headphones and “computers?”…during a lift off. And he always ended up doing what was necessary for him and about 10 other guys, as well. Fortunately for us all, Dad was up to that task and hyperactivity runs in our family.

Now, when I think of him then, when he was (-20 years) my age, as well as my age in the present, I remember his hair was dark brown; and he could ward off the most disgusting teen-aged wastrel, with one glance. (That would be me at that time.)  My greatest fear was to disappoint him. And when he lost his tempter, it was rarely at me, as he had minions to monitor. (A much more likely group to capture his disdain.)

He is now 88 years old and living in Richardson, Texas, close to where my brother lives. He practices singing and playing his guitar every day,and learns at least two new songs for his Thursday night concerts each 2 week interval. Whereas, I do not practice my guitar, trying to focus on piano. ( However, whose got the time? ” ) If only I had that drilled-in discipline, and duty installed, or inherited, like there was no other choice.

 I grew up to his singing and playing guitar for me all through my youth, and to this day.  Though I’m his daughter, and alot of that musical interest  and talent stuck.  I’m the one with the “white” hair, and when we are together we look more like peer compaions, than Father-Daughter. Except for I limp, (artificially replaced hip and knee, one on each side)…And he’s able to walk a mile a day, which he does every morning.

   My Husband and I visited him on his birthday weekend, when this was recorded, it’s one of my dad’s favorite songs. Though two weeks earlier, I had dislocated my right arm, lifting something way too heavy for me, but I thought I could…and I did, only with some physical damage…which I had not considered the possiblility of happening before doing so.  But as it is said;” a bad workman, always blames his or her tools.(1)” (Those would be my thought processes, tsk. tsk.) So my guitar playing sucks, and my legs are still swollen up in this Video like they belong to Emmett Smith, and not to me from the 5 hour drive in our car, even with support hose…it’s the sitting still thats a problem, in a socially acceptable position. 

  Any hoo, This is a Gene Autry Song. It was my Dad’s childhood dream to be a cowboy, (preferably the singing kind.) Though he grew up in Virginia, we moved to Texas  and he did that too.  I miss our farm in Holland, Texas so much (along with it’s water moccasins, ants and “no-see-’em’s” gnats, and some of the nosiest mocking birds and cardinals in Texas,etc.) even though it was always in his care, (ergo; in perfect A-1 shape, of course)… it was always home.  

 If I’m lucky, I can  re-record this on the piano and not sound quite so much like a dweeb.  Hopefully, Charles Sauer (my husband) might feel up to the task of recording this, when I’m home and rested and inside the air conditioned house. It’s supposed to be 100 degrees outside this afternoon. I wonder why Dad didn’t want to live here? Oh, I remember; it’s way too hot, and that kid of his, with the white hair is a true wastrel, however entertaining she can be upon occasion. But, Dad, you’ve got to admit I’ve got good taste in music.

(1.) Read this in a Superman comic book.