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In this era of broadcast TV, commercial breaks are so long you can take a shower. The program is just filler between commercials.

I have outlived a lot of "lifetime warranties"

July 17, 1944. Dale Evans stands barefoot on a dusty Los Angeles soundstage, taps the heel of her Gibson guitar twice for invisible count-off, and belts the first verse of a song she wrote on butcher paper while frying eggs for her son the night before. Nobody knows the tune yet—“Happy Trails” is still a scribble—but Republic Pictures suits lean in like prospectors hearing gold under shale. Three decades earlier she was Frances Octavia Smith, a shy red-haired farm kid who eloped at fourteen so she could escape cotton rows and taste city air; the marriage lasted less than a harvest, but the freedom stuck like prairie burrs. She waited tables in Memphis through the Great Flood of ’27, sneaking onto WMC radio after closing shifts to sing jazz standards under a fake name because minors weren’t allowed on the late-night frequency. A program director finally asked her real handle; she invented “Dale Evans” on the spot—“Dale” after a favorite cowboy serial, “Evans” because the script needed symmetry. The new persona unlocked doors. She became Chicago’s “Queen of the Air,” cashing twenty-five-cent requests while studying arrangement theory by transcribing Benny Goodman solos at half speed. Hollywood followed, and so did heartbreak: studio press agents wanted a glamor doll, so she performed vocal warm-ups inside a mop closet to avoid gossip scribes who mocked her Oklahoma vowels. Yet she weaponized those vowels, turning rustic honesty into a brand. When wartime producers begged for a duet partner to tame Roy Rogers’ rambunctious fan base, she brought her guitar, one coffee-stained lyric sheet, and the nerve to insist on equal billing. Roy nodded once and never looked back. November 29, 1952. A stiff breeze lifts the canvas walls of a makeshift tent hospital in Seoul, and Dale—clad in USO khakis stitched with a hidden pocket—slips harmonicas and peppermint sticks to wounded infantrymen who think she’s there only to croon. Between sets she scribbles prayer notes for mothers back home, then mails them from a Taiwan layover because Pentagon censors can’t track foreign postmarks. Returning stateside, she discovers her newborn daughter Robin has Down syndrome. Studio publicists urge silence; instead Dale writes the bestseller “Angel Unaware,” funneling royalties into scholarships for special-needs kids long before the term existed. She and Roy adopt four more children—two mixed-race, two war orphans—defying sponsors who warn it could “confuse Middle America.” She shrugs, records a Christmas special emphasizing family is chosen, and ratings jump twelve points. In 1969 she testifies before Congress, slipping a harmonica to a bored page boy and telling senators that inclusive playgrounds cost less than wheelchairs. During breaks on the “Roy Rogers Show” she sketches prosthetic-saddle designs so kids with cerebral palsy can ride horses; ten prototypes later, a San Bernardino ranch teaches therapeutic riding nationwide. At seventy she earns her pilot’s license, flying rescue dogs from hurricane zones because “trail bosses don’t retire, they reroute.” She dies at eighty-eight with boots by the bed and a half-finished lyric about Martian cowgirls grazing red-dust skies—a reminder that imagination’s horizon always shifts. The Friday after her funeral, children at a Phoenix rehab center strum borrowed guitars and shout her unfinished chorus. The staff hears something familiar: two heel taps, and a melody that still promises happy trails. #cowgirl #happytrails #trailblazer #usousa #texas dale evans hidden stories queen of the air roots angel unaware legacy roy rogers duet origins cowgirl innovation tales

Coming from a person who did the child abuse, neglect and dependency docket for our county's CPS for a decade or so, I would need a bit more information. Why was mom arrested? If mom were arrested for child endangerment, child abuse, drug charges, or any number of other offenses, then yes, the courts can take the child, put the child in the custody of CPS and into foster care. The court will be obligated to attempt to locate and serve the father. From there, it will depend on whether mom is incarcerated for an extended period of time, or whether she can work a reunification plan. Found not guilty? She might still need to work a plan, because the burden of proof is lower in the civil action. So, let's say mom attempts the reunification plan and fails. Or is going to prison for a very long time. Again, assuming no father or appropriate family members, CPS would likely file for the involuntary termination of parental rights, so that the child might be adopted. At this point, the foster parents would have an edge if they wanted to adopt, based upon the bonding of the child with the family, etc... However, it is not a given, based upon a matching process that is done according to statute and administrative law. Most likely though, the foster parents would be the adoptive family.

Actually, Lassiter is making me one in .44 Special. (Which is what I wanted.) I asked him about the Magnum cartridge, mostly for speculative reasons, and he felt the Lightning action could not handle the pressures. I only truly became interested when I saw Pedersoli was making one.

Since the original question was answered I will answer one that wasn't asked. Not all jurisdictions allow the guns so make sure you aren't t shipping to a communist state or city.

❤️❤️❤️

As the saying goes, "Praise Dale!"

By the way, I just went and looked at Gun Strollers. The wheels! Those metal spiked wheels will not stand up to the ranges where we cowboys shoot a lot. The wheels and the front fork look too similar to the RG design that we all know has caused some headaches. Had not heard of them til someone mentioned them on here. And, just because I rep for Rugged Gear does not mean that I wouldn’t be honest about a similar product. Hugs. Scarlett

Sounds about right....

To hear it sung like its supposed to be is refreshing.

Definitely a Sweetheart and a Great Lady.

California and Canada have a lot in common. Beautiful country and scenery. Friendly people. Lots of culture The stupidest, most ignorant and most self absorbed morons in public office.

I figured you might have been routed to SubTropolis in Kansas City!! It’s a huge underground business district with roads, docks, and a truck terminal, all 150 feet underground! “INSIDE THE WORLD’S LARGEST UNDERGROUND BUSINESS COMPLEX IN KANSAS CITY, MISSOURI. Created from an abandoned limestone mine, the world’s largest underground business complex, SubTropolis, was developed by the Hunt Midwest in the 1960s with Ford, Russel Stover, and Pillsbury as its first clients. Due to its underground location, SubTropolis is highly energy-efficient. The natural insulation provided by the limestone and the stable underground environment significantly reduces heating and cooling costs. With more than 55 companies and 2,000 employees, SubTropolis businesses span across industries, from animal health and food manufacturing to distribution, automotive, and pharmaceutical. The Kansas City facility includes 16-foot-high ceilings and 40-foot-wide corridors, allowing easy movement for trucks and heavy machinery. It has its own network of roads, loading docks, and utilities, making it a fully functional industrial complex.”

Our power was restored overnight; we came home from sleeping at a friend's house to find our porch light was on! Thanks for all your kind thoughts.

To answer both Kris’ and Watab’s questions, I have broken that foot several times. Work accidents, sports, and motorcycling. It usually healed up pretty quickly and there wasn’t much displacement of bones. But accumulated wear and tear and diabetes, combined with an infection I picked up from a tiny cut that got away from me, caused me to have a significant portion of the tissue behind my little toe removed in 2017. It took a whole year for me to regrow that tissue and in the process, I picked up a MRSA infection that attacked the bones behind the fifth toe. This resulted in several more surgeries, a trip to intensive care that included two months of hospitalization and rehab, surgery on my neck from the infection spreading into my cervical spine, and the eventual removal of my little toe and the bones behind it. When I finally recovered from that, we discovered that the bone behind the fourth toe was pushing down and causing pressure sores to develop on the sole of the foot, so that bone had to be removed as well. With the absence of all that structure, my foot began to roll over to the outside when I walked in any kind of shoes which caused pressure sores on the outside of the foot where the remaining bone where the outer tendon attaches to the foot protruded. This last surgery was performed to stabilize the remaining bone structure and to shave off and smooth the protrusion causing the sores. I’m thirteen weeks into recovery now and was released to start walking with a cane and the walking boot three weeks ago. I’m also allowed to walk a little in my sock feet with the cane, a few steps at a time, as of last Friday. The preliminary indication is that the surgery appears to have been at least somewhat successful. There’s no evidence of any internal pressure after three weeks and it seems to have stabilized the foot roll. I won’t be sure of that stabilization until I can get back into shoes or boots. It may be that I’ll need a brace of some sort to complete the deal. For now, both the surgeon and I are optimistic. I start rehabilitation later this month and I’ll see him again early in August.

Camp Dutch Ovens

Businessman Sam Walton opens first Walmart store in Rogers, Arkansas (1962);

If you don't tear up a little bit for that song, well...I did.

I didn't have to. Like sticking a fork in a wall plug - I watched my brother do it, and had no desire to do it myself.

It's getting better, thanks for asking. I returned to wo#k this week and my co-workers thought it would be fun to decorate my walking cast. Here is their artwork. I go back to the Dr. next week to see what he thinks of the progress.

Mine's a Baikal with cocking levers that only incidentally look like hammers. Not recommended. Cocking levers are easily bent unless they are pulled straight back. It's paid for, I run it, I'm old, I'm slow ... besides, I like to think I'm intimidatin' the daylights out of the plate when I pick up the double gun and haul back on the cockers, click, click ... (I know, I know, two million comedians out of work and I've go to come along ... don't quit my day job ...) 😁😁😁

....Yankees in your cup?