A Tribute to John O'Quinn

I'm reposting a tribute to Mr. O'Quinn that I found in his guestbook. The tribute was written by Mr. Douglas A Burks, who was fortunate to know him. I reprint it here with his permission.

O'QUINN

The world has lost a treasure,
Lady Justice surely cries today;
Super Man with a super heart,
Houston's Big John has gone away....

As some people make a difference,
Others simply follow the crowd;
This one help set the standards,
He made all of Houston so proud....

His place in history is secure no doubt,
Turbulent times he handled quite well;
Being the Best can never be easy,
Being the Best can't always be swell....

John loved the law and it loved him,
Even when his heart was hard to see;
Juries were his best-est friends,
The moon was his with just a plea....

Yes, this one made a difference,
A beacon of light in a world sometimes dim;
I hope Houston takes time to remember,
Our larger-than-life John O'Quinn....


Yes, I was one of the lucky ones that worked with John and Johnny in the early 90's. I took several trips in the firm's flying suburban myself. Some people may try and place blame on driving a vehicle fast, etc., but if you were to ask John, he would tell you that Justice Shouldn't Wait for Any Man. Both John and Johnny were in crunch-time hurrying to a mediation and for those in the legal world, we all know that crunch-time is like defcon 4, the Emergency Room on a busy Saturday night, and overtime during the Superbowl all rolled into one. Sometimes, things do happen.

John was definitely one-of-a-kind. I remember sitting between him and Racehorse Haynes at one of O'Quinn's birthday parties. We used to have those upstairs at the Acapulco Bar. Those were always so much fun because we got to see John laugh, smile and act like a kid.

I remember the time that O'Quinn made us line up to get our Christmas bonus checks outside of his office. When he called my name, I went into his office and he thanked me for the previous year of service, etc. and then he handed me an envelope with my bonus. I remember telling him that I would trade him the contents of the envelope for his picture as SuperMan. After winning the money for the bull SuperMan, someone painted a picture of John as SuperMan. John usually kept the painting out-of-sight on the back of a pillar in his office. John said that I should keep my bonus, but he would see to it that I got the painting if anything should ever happen to him. That was the one topic that we always kidded about. I have a large collection of SuperMan items. I saw him at Robertson stadium years after I left his office and after we talked for thirty minutes or so, he remembered his promise to give me the SuperMan picture. He just said, that painting has your name on it.

I remember the time that we had a limitation of liability hearing in New Orleans on a major admiralty case. We worked until late at night and then John made the final call to the opposing attorney representing the shipping company. John told him that it was going to cost him 22 million to settle the case. The opposing attorney tried to get John down to 19 million or so. Without getting flustered or flinching John calmly told the guy that he was calling to settle the case -- not to negotiate the case; and then politely told the opposing attorney that he would see him in court the next day. Less than 24 hours later, they settled with John for over 32 million. Basically, the attorney's attempt to shave a few dollars off the negotiated settlement wound up costing his company a smooth 10 million dollars.

I also remember the time that I finally got my one-on-one meeting with John. I had made it through 68 hours of law school at STCL and John and I went over next door to the firm at Birraporetti's to discuss everything. John was wearing a black leather coat with the American flag on the back. He listened to my story and then agreed to help get me back into law school to finish at the University of Houston. As my luck would have it, less than a week later, he was named a Regent for the University of Houston. I remember him coming to my office and, instead of looking happy that he was now a Regent, he looked and acted sad that he could not help me get into their law school. He said that too many eyes would be on him and I totally understood. I was touched by his generosity and kindness.

There are so many ways to describe him, but John was truly unique. I'm sad that he is gone and my prayers are with Dean Treece, Carl, and all those that loved and cared for he and Johnny -- but I know that they are both finally laughing, smiling and acting like kids for eternity.

Douglas A. Burks
11/4/2009

THE LOSS OF JOHN O'QUINN

JOHN MAURICE O'QUINN
1941 - 2009

Do not stand at my grave and weep

Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am in a thousand winds that blow,
I am the softly falling snow.
I am the gentle showers of rain,
I am the fields of ripening grain.
I am in the morning hush,
I am in the graceful rush
Of beautiful birds in circling flight,
I am the starshine of the night.
I am in the flowers that bloom,
I am in a quiet room.
I am in the birds that sing,
I am in each lovely thing.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there. I do not die.

Mary Frye

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

For All Who Mourn

by Arthur Guiterman

That he was near to you
so many a year
But darkens you distress.
Would you he were
less worthy and less dear
That you might grieve the less?

He was a golden font
that freely poured
What goldenly endures,
And though that font be gone,
its bounty stored
and treasured,
Still is yours.

The past is deathless.
Souls are wells too deep
To spend their purest gains.
All that he gave to you
is yours to keep
While memory remains.

Who never had and lost
forlorn are they
Far more that you and I
Who had and have
Judge not the price we pay
For love that cannot die.


Those who knew him were truly blessed. The world was better because he walked in it. I pray that his legacy of generosity will continue on. God Speed, John.

The Touch of the Master's Hand

"Twas battered and scared, and the auctioneer
Thought it scarcely worth his while
To waste much time on the old violin,
But he held it up with a smile.
"What am I bidden, good folks," he cried,
"Who'll start bidding for me?
A dollar, a dollar - now who"ll make it two _
Two dollars, and who"ll make it three?

"Three dollars once, three dollars twice,
Going for three". . . but no!
From the room far back a gray-haired man
Came forward and picked up the bow;
Then wiping the dust from the old violin,
And tightening up the strings,
He played a melody,pure and sweet,
As sweet as an angel sings.

The music ceased and the auctioneer
With a voice that was quiet and low,
Said: "What am I bidden for the old violin?"
And he held it up with the bow;
"A thousand dollars - and who'll make it two?
Two thousand - and who'll make it three?
Three thousand once, three thousand twice
And going - and gone," said he.

The people cheered, but some of them cried,
"We do not quite understand -
What changed its worth?" The man replied:
"The touch of the masters hand."
And many a man with life out of tune,
And battered and torn with sin,
Is auctioned cheap to a thoughtless crowd.
Much like the old violin.

A "mess of pottage," a glass of wine,
A game and he travels on,
He's going once, and going twice -
He's going - and almost gone!
But the MASTER comes, and the foolish crowd,
Never can quite understand,
The worth of a soul, and the change that's wrought
By the touch of the MASTER'S hand.

~Myra B. Welch

A Dream in Erotica

BY CAROLE NICHOLS

Lips, so full and lush, brush my ear:
As I hear you whisper
In slow, exquisite detail
What you will do to me this night.
And I whisper, so eagerly, "Yes....yes...."

I feel your tongue, wet as I am,
And I restlessly turn to find it with my mouth,
Taking it inside, to dance hungrily with mine.
Molten heat throbs deep inside
As we move to a beat of erotic bliss.

Your hands touch and tease,
Preparing each and every part of me.
I find myself hungry to touch you
Full-blown and hot, a'quiver,
But you say, "Not yet....."

Your lips blaze a trail of fire,
Sweetly searing, branding my skin;
Sliding down, slowly downward,
To the very heart of me,
Devouring me, magically special.

Till in a soul shattering burst
I lose myself and call out your name;
My body weeping at the beauty of it.
You rise to finally take me fully.
And I smile, and say, "Not yet....my love...."

You sigh and surrender as I kiss your lips,
Tasting the essence of me which remains.
My lips roam until I find you,
Throbbing with the pulse of passion,
And you moan, "Yes....yes...."

My hands and lips seek out
The secrets of your body;
Delighting in the sheen of sweat,
You moving beneath me
In restless anticipation

You struggle for control
And with a growl, low and deep,
You pull me up and claim my mouth once more.
Our eyes meet and hotly burn
And your mouth moves silently, "Now......"

And I feel you filling me,
In a dance as old as time,
Merged and one, giving and taking,
Sending and receiving,
Until time ceases to exist

And we seek out that most perfect ending.
And it comes, exploding out of nowhere and everywhere,
And we cling to each other as stars fall around us
And finally, sated and full,
We smile and begin the dance again.

The Silver One

in the nighttime sky
in the darkness between two days
the silver one goes sailing
flying hand in hand with her sister stars
crying
because the life of man
is an empty dream
- anonymous -


I don't know why this poem touches me so. I found it in some obscure book when I was 13 years old. It had such an effect on me that I memorized instantly, and all these years later, it still makes me sad. And I feel the truth of it, especially in my life.

Sounds of Silence - Lyrics

Artist - Simon and Garfunkle

Hello darkness, my old friend
I've come to talk with you again
Because a vision softly creeping
Left its seeds while I was sleeping
And the vision that was planted in my brain
Still remains
Within the sound of silence

In restless dreams I walked alone
Narrow streets of cobblestone
'Neath the halo of a street lamp
I turned my collar to the cold and damp
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light
That split the night
And touched the sound of silence

And in the naked light I saw
Ten thousand people, maybe more
People talking without speaking
People hearing without listening
People writing songs that voices never share
And no one dared
Disturb the sound of silence

"Fools", said I, "You do not know
Silence like a cancer grows
Hear my words that I might teach you
Take my arms that I might reach you"
But my words, like silent raindrops fell
And echoed
In the wells of silence

And the people bowed and prayed
To the neon god they made
And the sign flashed out its warning
In the words that it was forming
And the sign said, "The words of the prophets are written on the subway walls
And tenement halls"
And whispered in the sounds of silence

Bittersweet

By Carole Nichols


The taste of joy, how bittersweet
Mingled twixt a mother's tears
That justice comes, slowly sure
Cannot erase the lonely years.

A mother's love held fast by faith,
And kindness cushions sadness deep.
Yet much preferred are children's arms
O'er justice coming, full, replete.

The years loom long and empty,
Oh, bittersweet the victory!
Tears mark the grieving lines,
Made deep by aching memory.


May God continue to bless you Virgie Arthur. I'll fight for as long as you do!

I Hear Spring

By Carole Nichols

My daffodils are blooming bold,
In the ground still touched cold.
Frost and freezing gasping last;
I hear the Spring a'coming fast.

As Winter's fingers melt away;
The gentle green comes out to play.
And I laugh as the sun touches warm;
Again she's beat the frigid storm.


I love the Springtime, when everything is fresh and new. I can't wait for the last of the cold to be gone, and for the air to be scented with the fragrance of nature at it's best. And I found this:

A Spring View

Tu Fu (c. 750)


Though a country be sundered, hills and rivers endure;
And spring comes green again to trees and grasses
Where petals have been shed like tears
And lonely birds have sung their grief.
...After the war-fires of three months,
One message from home is worth a ton of gold.
...I stroke my white hair. It has grown too thin
To hold the hairpins any more.
trans. Witter Bynner


Wow, so powerful!

I Love you Mommy

Why do people hurt and kill their babies? Baby Grace reportedly cried out "I love you Mommy" as she was being beaten. She was being beaten because she was two years old and her Mom's husband wanted to teach her discipline, particularly how to say "yes, sir", "thank you" and "please".

According to the mother, she stood by and watched as her husband beat this baby with 2 belts, dunked her in a tub of cold water, and finally hurled her against the wall several times after he became aggravated that the baby wasn't minding. On July 25, 2007, he stayed home from work so that he could discipline the baby all day long.

“I said we have to get her to a hospital. (Zeigler) said, ‘No we can’t. We’ll go to jail,”’ Trenor said in the videotape, crying. “There came a point where she stopped breathing. He started doing CPR on the floor. He took her ... and handed her over to me. I could just feel her going cold.”

The couple then wrapped her in plastic bags and kept her in a shed for a month or two before buying a container stuffing her inside it and dumping her body into Galveston Bay. They told friends and family that the baby had been taken away by Child Protective Services.

God Bless the Children, and may God have mercy on our souls.

When Absolute Belief is Shattered

Most of us love our children unconditionally, and will stand by them, support them, and believe in them, no matter what life throws at us. But George Anthony is in mental turmoil today because the facts emerging in little Caylee Anthony's death are destroying his ablility to believe in the innocence of his beloved daughter.



Watching the drama unfold since July had many of us convinced early on that Casey Anthony knew something about Caylee's disappearance that she was keeping tightly secret. Her eyes told a story of a chilling coldness and lack of concern regarding the whereabouts of her baby. George Anthony could only see her through the eyes of love.

What do you do....what can you do when you realize you have raised a monster? Do you love them less? No...it would be easier if you could. What do you do...what can you do when you realize that this person you have loved, cherished and nurtured is very probably going to die in the electric chair or be locked away for the rest of her life? How do you come to grips with that?



The discovery of Caylee's tiny body have forced the blinders from his eyes, and he is finding it hard to accept the truth of Casey's actions....she deliberately killed her little girl because it cramped her freedom and lifestyle. He is coming to realize that not only has he lost a beautiful, innocent granddaughter, but he has lost his daughter as well. Casey must pay for her crime, and the punishment should be death.

Love Thy Enemy

By Carole Nichols

I loved him. I hated him. Ricardo Montalban became known to me in 1968. I'd seen him in a few shows and thought he looked fine, but never became "aware" of him as a man until he guest starred on the classic "Star Trek" series. I will never forget what he made me feel as a very young teenager...scary stuff when you believe you can only be hot if your under 30 or a Vulcan.

As I remember it, the Good Ship Enterprise comes upon a sleeper ship (a craft designed for lenghtly space travel in the days before warping was achieved) The sleeper ship was a derilect, so the brave Captain takes his lovely A & A Officer, Helen McGivers, aboard to look around. Khan was the first of the sleepers to awaken, blah, blah blah, and Dr. McCoy has to save his life. The lovely anthropologist was mesmerized by the very sensual Khan and fails to tell Captain Kirk that Khan is one a few demigods who had disappeared at the end of earth's third world war to escape execution for war crimes. After chewing her out, Kirk says, "and of course you think men of that era were more manly than today's man." She responds yes, and Kirk thanks her for being honest.



Helen sits with Khan as he sleeps in sickbay, and when he awakens he proceeds to seduce her with words and with domination. My heart is beating 90 miles an hour and I feel a distinct pulse that I'd never felt before. God, I wanted to trade places with her! Khan revives the rest of his crew and plans to take over the Enterprise; Kirk orders Helen to trick Khan so that he can be overwhelmed and locked up. Helen in his bedroom, tries to seduce him but chickens out because he overwhelms her by just his presence. He grabs her, kisses her, and when she pushes away from him, he says very rudely, "Go! or Stay! But do it because that is what you want to do." Poor Helen gets all weak and sobby and says, "I'll stay for a while." Khan, with his back to her and his nose in the air says, "Oh no, now you must ask me if you can stay." God, I wanted to kick his butt! But Helen asks him to please let her stay. With a smile of satisfaction he turns to her and she walks into his arms....fade to black, darnit.

After many cliff hangers, Kirk and crew prevail, save the ship, and decide to abandon Khan and his followers on a very lush, but dangerous planet. Khan is delighted to have a world to conquer. McGivers, given the choice of a court martial or going with Khan, chooses Khan. As they are led to the transporter room, Khan turns to Kirk and asks him..."Are you familiar with Milton, Captian." Kirk responds yes. After Khan is gone, Commander Scott remarks that he hates to admit it but he's not up on Milton." Kirk quotes from PARADISE LOST "It is better to rule in hell than to serve in heaven." I think I cried for a week until the next time Star Trek was on.

Star Trek was my life for 3 crucial years. It was my escape from tyranny, it was my safe haven and it promised me that things would get better. "Space Seed," was so highly thought of that when, at last, Star Trek made it to the big screen, Khan's role was reprised to show what his new world had done to him and his people in the course of 20 years. Of course, after the movie, I cried for another week.

Goodbye, Ricardo, Khan, Mr. Rourk....May the Great Bird of the Galaxy find you in rare form once more.



Copy and paste to watch the original Classic Star Trek episode SPACE SEED:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mDboDUfbAe8

How Old is Your Brain?

Stoopid Game! If you want to play a stoopid game, copy and paste the link below or just click the title above.

The instructions are in Japanese, so I've printed them below:

1. Touch 'start'
2. Wait for 3, 2, 1. to finish then start the game.
3. Memorize the number's position on the screen, and then click the circle from
the smallest number to the biggest number. ( #'s DISAPPEAR QUICKLY....)
4. At the end of game, the computer will tell you the age of your brain.


http://flashfabrica.com/f_learning/brain/brain.html

When you get tired of cussing out the game for LYING about your brain's age, you are invited to post how old the game says your brain is versus how old YOU KNOW YOUR BRAIN REALLY IS!

World Scarecrow Record Awarded to Neighbor

Hoschton, Georgia was taken over by thousands of scarecrows this past fall; although the residents of the town only number 1,455 people, there was 5,441 scarecrows scattered throughout the 30548 zip code. The people's efforts at making this a memorable fall season were not in vain either, they were awarded an official world record for the "Most Scarecrows in One Location" by the World Records Academy. I happened to drive through this area and it was quite a sight to see literally hundreds of scarecrows lining the streets, grouped in front of buildings and scattered throughout people's yards. It would have been neat to actually walk around and look at the different ones in detail, but I didn't have the time.


Anyways, at this time, the city is not being awarded a Guiness World Record title due to a technicality. The office in London is saying that a zip code is not a location. However, the World Records Academy has a different point of view; they are saying that the same zip code counts as a location. A committee will decide within the month of January whether or not to appeal Guinness' decision.
The World Records Academy is going to honor the record with a full-page in it's 2009 book, which goes on sale this month. You can also see the city recognized on the company's Website: www.WorldRecordAcademy.org

Kudos, to my neighboring Hoschton, GA....a town which set out to break the Guiness Record for the most scarecrows in one place. Thanks to the tricky wording, the ZIP CODE area DOES NOT constitute one place! Go Figure! However, the World Record Academy DID award them their record for the over fifty-four hundred scarecrows set up. Below is a link to a You Tube video which will show a small sampling of the imagination that went into making the scarecrows.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WSPNMCvh18M

Why Were the Princes' Turned into Frogs?

All my life I've wondered why the wicked witch or wizard would turn Prince Charming into a frog. And I wondered why it would take the kiss of a "fair maiden" to change him back into a prince once more.

And then I wondered what would happen if the the "fair maiden" failed to be one or the other and still kissed the frog. It seems, by the picture above someone else pondered the same question. I guess if you have to keep part of the frog, you need to make sure the part you kiss will make you ignore the frog face.

Warning please don't try this with just any frog!

Scorched By You

By Carole Nichols

Your touch, hot as the sun,
Invades and I come undone.
You lips are a hungry fire
That send me even higher

Branded and passion burned,
Yet ever for you I yearned
To be melted to the core
Consumed and wanting more.

And you, glow a radiant glow.
As I lose my breath, I know
That I'd lay open for that heat
Sated, fulfilled, again replete.

Hummingbirds

Donna Robertson


Together we sit on the concrete porch, the hot Alabama spring sun shining down on us. I can feel the sweat dribbling down my legs, and the heat reflecting up from the sun warmed concrete makes me uncomfortable. I look at her, and quickly decide I can suffer a little discomfort. She sits beside me, her body once hale and hearty, now frail and she soaks up the warmth of the sun. She is never warm enough, her blood thinned unmercifully by the monster that eats away at her. Her hair gone gray, and her face lined now, it seems to me overnight. I look at her hands, folded quietly in her lap and am amazed at how young they still appear. Her strength quickly fades now, and she no longer is the whirlwind I have known all my life. She stares intently, thru her right eye, the left eye forever blinded now. Conversation is difficult, for along with her sight, the ravages of cancer has taken most of her hearing.

As I watch her, she smiles, quickly and her head turns from side to side, and she says to me, " Look Donna, there is one, and there, another one."
My two good eyes have to look hard to catch sight of the quickly flying little birds. Hummingbirds, they flitter from feeder to feeder. We have placed the feeders with their bright red food, around the back yard in strategic locations. First I see one, and then two and then three of the little miracle birds. Their wings making a buzzing sound and moving so fast they are simply a blur. The little bodies are visible though, the heads brightly colored on two, a bright green and the third a duller brown. She claps her hands lightly, delighted in the sight of the birds. Forever, she has loved hummingbirds. Now that it is so difficult to go anywhere or do anything, this is one pleasure that is still hers.

As I watch her, I think back, years and years, to another time and another porch. It is on the front of a big white house, there are rocking chairs here. In one of those chairs she sits, and in her lap is a little girl, about 5 years old. She reads to her, and by doing so transports her to the worlds or once upon a time and happily ever after. Her bright brown eyes smile down at the little girl and she never tires of reading the stories. Occasionally, she will stop, and point out into the bushes by the steps. " Look Donna, there is one, and another one." The little girl sees the birds, tiny, fast and wants to know if they are baby birds. "No, not babies at all, just tiny birds, that feed in the flowers." The little girl laughs with her mother, enjoying the acrobats of the birds.

It's another hot, early spring day, and I sit under the tent at her graveside. I cannot cry, all I can feel is relief. I hold my baby sister's hand on one side, and my father's hand on the other. Behind me, I feel the strong loving hands of my husband on my shoulders. I listen as words are spoken, but I long for it to end. I said my good-byes two nights before. I watched in the night sky as the Hale-Bop comet was visible, a beautiful sight. I went into the house and to the bed where she lay. Eyes closed, quiet, no words had she spoken in 24 hours. I picked up her hand in mine, and held it, leaned down and said, "Mom, I have just seen the most beautiful sight, I want you to see it also. It is OK to go now. I love you." With me holding one hand, and my little sister holding the other, she took a last breath and left us. I will see her again one day.

The fall has come, and finally, after so many long years, my husband and I have a place we can call home. A beautiful house, that I fell in love with the first time I saw it. Not fancy by any means, but beautiful. My only sorrow that Mom did not live to see it. It is late in October, and I am sitting in the den, on the floor as is my habit, and out of the corner of my eyes I see movement at the French doors. I look up and feel my heart speed and tears come to my eyes. There, much too late in the year, hovering outside the door, looking in upon me is a hummingbird. There I sat feeling her presence, her love surrounds me. She knows, and I feel peace.

Now, on my deck, there hangs hummingbird feeders and I patiently fill them each spring. Each time I see a hummingbird, I whisper, "Hello Mom, I love you too."


Note from me: My sister wrote this beautiful story, all the more lovely because it is true. I post it here, now, for my sister who I admire tremendously, and love more than I can say.

What do I expect for the New Year?

The big night is over; big deal. Reminds me of Tennessee Ernie Ford - "You haul 16 tons, and what do you get? Another day older and deeper in debt. St. Peter don't you call me 'cause I can't go. I owe my soul to the company store."

Well, let's see...I'm cooking the black eyed peas, collards and hog jowls (ok, so it's bacon, but pretend). Obviously, I want good health for me and hubby, and I'd love to strike it rich! The staying healthy part is fairly easy, but every year I get stumped on how to get rich.

I can't marry some rich old coot with one foot in the grave, because I'm already married. And even if I wasn't, most old coots seem to like those 20-30 year old plastic bimbos, and I'm a few years too late to pretend to be one of those.

The hubby has been in the backyard all morning shooting holes in the ground, just in case some of that Texas Tea made it's way this far east. No luck with that, but the sheriff's been by twice to make sure we weren't having a family feud.

I'm debating going in the lottery direction again. I still think it's rigged, but what the heck; it's only money......right? Then again, I think I'll just keep on working. St Peter, are you listening?