Bubba's Rules for Country Living comes from my own experience at the country Store at Lake Kickapoo in Northern Archer County in North Texas. I moved to a small place at the Lake when disability forced me away from medical practice. A wonderful life awaited me. I was born in Ohio and raised all over the Midwest, but had the lasting good fortune to move to Texas and to marry South. My mother acted Yankee nearly all her life, even when she lived with us at Kickapoo, but my father countered her harshness with a Welsh sense of humor that fit in no matter where he was or who was listening. His stories had a cadence to them, a rhythm that rivaled what I heard at Kickapoo. Listening to him when I was a child, I learned that art as well. Not like my father; never that grand. But I could tell a story, and I could listen without interrupting or looking away or letting my attention wander. And those wonderful men at the store at Kickapoo accepted me. They invited me to sit at the table labeled Stammtisch, and "allowed as how," if there happened to be a pause that signaled the end of a story, and I could jump in fast enough, I "might could" tell a story of my own. Just "might could," mind you. Nothing was certain at the table labeled Stammtisch at the store at Kickapoo, except Bubba's rules for living.