It Isn't Easy Being Green

It's been awhile since my last post. My apologies...I've had more work than I can handle and my partner has been ill. So, you do what you can when you can.

Believe me, I've had a ton of musings...just not enough time to write them down. So, I thought I would write down one of my musings now.

As most people know, I am a poker fiend. I count the moments until Saturday night until I go play poker with "the guys". These are a bunch of middle aged to older aged men who are a little and sometimes alot on the redneck side. They normally are very nice men and I've enjoyed playing a friendly game of Hold'em with them.

Last week, I went into the bar to play Holdem and it was different. The men weren't talkative and several of them brought buddies or co-workers with them. I'm usually one of the only women at the table. And, they all "know" about me but never say anything one way or the other.

But, I noticed that several of the guys were being "short" with me or not talking to me at all. Their lack of communication spoke volumes. So, I played until I was out of chips.

I sat at the bar and finished drinking a beer. I knew I had to leave. I wish I fit in better than I do. Whether you are gay, straight, black or white....Kermit got it right when he said, "It isn't easy being green."

More Musings Later-

Barry Piggott, Barry Piggott, Where For Art Thou?

Okay, sue me. I was trying a little Shakespearean prose without much success!

You're probably wondering just who in the hell is Barry Piggott? You're also probably wondering if that last name is real. I mean really....Piggott?

To answer your first question: Barry Piggott was a childhood friend of mine that I met through my sister. She had a little band that consisted of keyboards (my sister), Bass (a friend of hers, Bob) and drums (Barry Piggott). I remember they would rehearse in our living room and I thought it was so cool when they played together.

The reason Barry made such an impression on me is that he was the youngest in the group, he was awfully cute, and he was a drummer, the same as me. For a teenage boy of 14 or 15, he was exceedingly easy to talk to. So, we grew into fast friends although I kept my huge crush on him a secret!

So whatever happened to Barry Piggott?

He is living in the Beaumont/Port Arthur Texas area and he is a professional musician. He plays a variety of instruments with his main instruments being keyboards and harmonica (or harp) as well as singing lead. He favors R & B and Rock-n-Roll as is the tradition of music in that area.

Barry Piggott

C'mon, you know the musicians to come out of the Golden Triangle: Janis Joplin, Edgar Winter, Johnny Winter, songwriter Don Rollins (It's 5 O'clock Somewhere) , George Jones, Clay Walker, Mark Chesnutt, Tracy Byrd, Jerry LaCroix and a host of others.

Barry with Jerry LaCroix, former lead singer of Blood Sweat & Tears

It's funny, I found out that Barry has a 15 year old son now and my God, it's like looking at his father 30 years ago. Right down to the hair-do! He even plays a shiny blue set of drums. History is repeating itself!

The Piggotts are a talented family. Barry's father, Johnny Piggott is a lifelong musician in his own right and plays a mean guitar. He often sits in with his son and sings backup. I can remember many a weekend spending time at the Piggotts' house watching Barry practice and Johnny coaching his band. Oh, and there is one more Piggott musician, little brother David who was 3 years old when I knew him. He now plays bass for Monte Montgomery and travels all over the world.

David Piggott all grown up!

Another shot of David

Question #2: Yes, Piggott is their real name! I was always so glad all the guys were thin...Porky Piggott is such an unkind nickname.

I've tried to hook up with Barry several times, but it just hasn't worked out as he doesn't have internet connection.

Thanks for the memories, Barry.

More Musings Later-

Just a "Friendly" little Poker Game

Every once in awhile, I like to go to this pub I know of where they play poker in the backroom.

It's a beer only joint and the people are really nice. Now, as you can imagine, the place has been around forever and the clientelle are an older group of folks, which suits me fine. Well, this last Saturday night, I dragged my partner to this game. She called a friend and they drank beer and watched tv in the bar area while I got my fix of Texas Hold'em.

So, I see the small group of men moving into the backroom. They are lighting up their cigars and cigarettes and counting chips as I move in with them. The men have accepted that I am a bit "different" then the rest of the gals that frequent this place and in their best 'don't ask, don't tell' liberalism, we all get along just fine.

So, I belly up to the poker table and begin playing. I was having an awesome night. People were starting to pour in to the room to watch us play. I eliminated several regulars by catching an incredible River card. Moans and groans are heard loudly as I scrape the mounded chips in the middle of the table toward me.

Now let me set the scene: Most of the regulars can't remember my name, so my nickname is "Baby Girl". I always silently chuckle at that term, cause I am anything but.

Well the oldtimer I was playing wanted to win. BAD. He kept offering me some money to stop playing poker and let him win. Nope, I wanted to play a complete game.

Then it happened. It's as quiet as library when the flop comes down. He looks at me and says, "I bet 2000 chips". He stares at me to show he's all business.

I pause and the oldtimer says, "Baby Girl is about to fold!" and he hoots and has already spent his winnings.

"All in," I replied quietly.

He stops in mid-crow and stares at me. the Turn and the River are flipped over and I throw down my hand.

The whole room hollered and whooped it up cause "Baby Girl" beat the oldtimer. The oldtimer has a hard time accepting this and is even calling me by my real name. That's not a good sign, calling me Taryn.

So, after alot of talking, alot of handshakes. I went into the bar and sat next to oldtimer. He wouldn't look at me. I asked the bartender, "Buy him one on me, ok?". He grits his teeth and nods his thanks.

I sat there for a few more moments and knew my winning wasn't worth this. I knew I could do it and I did. So I took out my winnings of my pocket and pushed it toward him. He looked at me dumbfounded and said, "What?"

"Take what you believe is fair." He looked at me for a long time and reached for my money. He thumbed through it and split it 5o/50. I nodded and he was happy. "Thanks for the beer, Baby Girl".

With all my differentness and all his conservative beliefs, this much I learned about poker that night:

"You got to know when to fold'em, and know when to pick your battles".





More Musings Later-