If You Can’t Be Good, Be Great!

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Remembering Our Founder – Dr. John McElligott

By Dana Karnowski

This post has taken me some time to write. Losing John left a space that words simply could not fill right away. It comes with heavy heart and many tears. I know that all of you that knew Dr. John will understand.

However, this blog was built on memories and continuing to share them is exactly what he would want us to do.

Some people come into your life for a short time. Others stay long enough to change it forever.

Dr. John McElligott was one of those people.

In 2017, John and I first talked about the idea for this blog. At the time it was just a dream — make a place where Midlanders could share memories and stories from a special time in their lives.

In 2018, we decided to make that dream a reality.

What started as a simple idea became something much bigger.

Together we helped create a place where more than 500 stories now live, and where thousands of readers and proud “water drinkers” return to laugh, remember, and reconnect. Through this project he and I met many Texans who now feel like family.

Somewhere along the way, Dr. John became my best friend.

John believed deeply that stories mattered. He used to joke, “Why write a blog when you can’t spell?” But then he would answer his own question.

Because once a story is written down, it can last forever.

He also liked to say that he would retire “the day before they cremate me.” That was John, always working to save lives, always laughing, always finding a reason to celebrate life.

Dr. John McElligott passed away peacefully on February 15, 2026.

Please see his obituary here: Dr. John McElligott Obituary – Knoxville News Sentinel

I miss him terribly and probably will for the rest of my life. But his dream will not end here.

As long as these stories continue to be shared, his spirit will live on — in every memory, every laugh, and every story told here.

And maybe that is the real story John left with us…that as long as memories are shared and stories are told, the people we love are never truly gone.

John believed this blog belonged to the people of Midland, Texas who lived these stories.

If you have a memory of Dr. John, a story that made you laugh, or even a small moment you remember from those Midland days, I invite you to share it. That was always John’s hope — that the stories would continue long after he was gone.

By sharing those memories, we keep his spirit alive and carry forward the dream he started.

Let’s keep telling the stories. Let’s keep remembering. And together, let’s carry on the legacy John believed in so deeply.

Each day, as I would leave him, he always reminded me, “If you can’t be good, be great.”

He was the greatest of all time.

Please join his live stream funeral mass celebrated March 14, 2026 at Noon All Saints Catholic Church, Knoxville, TN here:

https://boxcast.tv/view/funeral-mass-for-john-mcelligot-md-ixtzsdqlj5grjgcmtqjg

A.C. Wheat Jr. (RIP)

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Submitted by David White

I commend all our peers who have contributed to make the “Water Drinkers” blog possible. It has been fun writing my stories and reading our fellow drinkers’ stories. Today, I want to share a story about a special person that came before us, but would certainly have been an honored member of the “Water Drinkers”—A.C. Wheat Jr.

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Anne Canon Conrad

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February 18, 1944 — July 15, 2024

Anne Lenore Conrad, fondly known as “Ma” and “Big Anne” took her first breath of heavenly air on July 15, 2024 surrounded by family. Anne, 80, of Claude, TX., was born in Midland, Texas to Joe and Verna Canon on February 18, 1944 and was the second oldest of eight children. She often talked about her fond childhood memories involving her siblings, their vacations and the mischief they all got into. Anne attended St. Ann’s Catholic School during her elementary years. She graduated from Midland High School and went on to attend college her freshman year at the University of Dallas. She transferred to West Texas State University in Canyon, Texas and graduated with a Bachelor of Science degree in 1966. While attending WT Anne was a member of the Chi Omega Sorority and was voted the KA Rose as well as “Best Dressed”. As soon as she graduated from WT, Anne, who was always up for an adventure, decided to go to work for Braniff Airlines as what was then known as a stewardess. After her time in the skies, she accepted a teaching position in Arizona where she taught art classes for a brief time. She eventually made her way back to Texas and reunited with a young man she had met a few years before. Anne and Glenn Conrad were married on July 20, 1968. They moved to Claude, Texas where they established their family farm and home for the last 55 plus years. Anne was a woman of strong faith who dedicated her life to caring for her family and was a do-it-yourself kind of homemaker. She was passionate about maintaining their home with the utmost care. Her children recall many times coming home from school to her on her hands and knees with a washing machine, dryer, or dishwasher disassembled so she could repair it. Anne enjoyed playing tennis, painting, swimming, fishing, camping and instilled a love of these hobbies in her children and grandchildren. Anne was an active member of St. Theresa’s Catholic Church, a member of Christian Mothers, a Girl Scout Brownie troop leader and a 4-H adult leader. After the children were grown and gone Anne had fun spending time with friends playing bridge with the weekly bridge group. According to Anne, her proudest accomplishment other than her children, was catching the largest fish out of the pond at the Midland Country Club when she was a child.

Anne is survived by her husband of nearly 56 years, Glenn Conrad of Claude, TX, her four children 11 grandchildren, Shannon Cornell and husband Clint of Claude(Jessica Bevill, Devin Cornell, Bradley Cornell), Chris Hall and husband Mark of Canyon (McKinsey Ogle, Kayla Stokes), Cory Thornton and husband Cade of Weatherford (C.J., Emma Thornton), and Sean Conrad and wife Christie (Alexia, Kaylee, Annelyse, and Kynlie Conrad) of Amarillo as well as 11 great grandchildren.

Her surviving siblings include Joe Ed Canon of Abilene, Mike Canon of Midland, Gerry Canon of Lubbock, Chris Canon of Canyon, Kem Canon of Wickenburg, AZ. and Tim Canon of Keller. She has also been blessed with 7 wonderful sisters-in-law, 23 nieces and nephews as well 59 great nieces and nephews. 

She was preceded in death by her parents Joe and Verna Canon, a sister Carol Canon, a baby brother Patrick Canon and two loving brothers-in-law.

A vigil service and rosary will be held at St. Theresa’s Catholic Church on July 24, 2024, at 6:30 pm. The funeral Mass of Christian Burial concelebrated by Fr. Hrudaya Raju Kondamudi, Fr. Tony Neusch and Fr. Scott Raef will be at St. Theresa’s Catholic Church in Panhandle, TX on July 25, 2024 at 10:00 am. In honor of Anne’s love of a vibrant palette, feel free to wear colorful clothing to her services.

The family will receive visitors on Wednesday, July 24th from Noon-3:00 pm at Glenn and Anne’s home.

In lieu of flowers, memorial donations can be made to St. Theresa’s Catholic Church, P.O. Box 366, 110 Little Flower Way, Panhandle, TX 79068-0366 or Franciscan Sisters of Christ the Light, 119 Franciscan Way Box 906, Panhandle, TX 79068.

From The Heart

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Written by David W. White

I have no words of my own
    That will ease your family’s pain,
So, I prayed to God for his guidance
    And He put these in my brain.

When tragedy enters into our lives
    It’s difficult to understand,
We must surrender to God’s Grace
    And let Him take us by the hand.

There is no rhyme or reason
    Why this has come our way,
It’s not our fault it happened
    So, we should not ever dismay.

For a reason only known to Him
    We find us in this place,
And all of us who truly believe
    Will receive his loving Grace.

Please remember all the good things
    Our lives have always brought,
And trusting in his Holy words
    While trying hard not to be distraught.

David W. White
February 21, 2023

Ashes of Vietnam

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Written by David Edwards

NOTE:  I returned from Vietnam with baggage I didn’t take there. I had no full awareness of it until decades later, whereupon I wrote this anger poem, which was in some measure cathartic.  I most felt its impact reading it aloud and deliberately with a wounded soul.

CONTROLLING THE FIRE:  LIFETIME ANGER MANAGEMENT

 THEN a good soldier at twenty I went whole where you ordered and did what you told me to do for a year and came home, heart cracked and bleeding for a beautiful people who wanted peace but were paying exorbitant taxes on a scrap between you and Ho which should have been settled by gentle men but instead became a grapple to see who would be king of the mountain for a day or so. While you played Sisyphus, lives that counted were being pounded into the earth, many into their own and brothers into a foreign one.  Once having done my dastardly bastardly duty I came back with a newfound madness and anger at the blowing wind to a hostile home, a place I left to happy-horn Herb Alpert but returned to bold-bugle Barry McGuire sounding out destruction, a madder place and angrier at me than I could know while in the Reds’ rockets’ glare with shrapnel spinning in air seeking me out.  It was you, Lyndon, who merited the many missiles of spittle we, the ordered, sustained on your behalf, and equally the bullets you ordered for Jack, who planned to preclude the journey you sent me on and intended to quit your second-term mission to his succession.  Dwight had forewarned us of you and your friends, the military-industrial complex glued together by the kind of politics you embraced and fostered while Woodstock and Haight-Ashbury rolled a different stone in heads, the sort that grew from pebbles into one bigger than yours.  Harry had quickly washed his hands with the charcoaled atoms of a proud people, but you chose to lather us with the slow soap of body-count accounting, laundering the books with the myth of Tonkin and the promise of a better world, one that you never delivered, a vow which netted nothing from a gross loss.  Then expletive-deleted Richard came along and at least got us the hell out of that hell but then impelled us into a new room in that manifold mansion where deceit is falsely painted white THERE.

 NOW fifty years on from ground zero the explosions of anger have not died out but are managed by the life sentence of un-paroled imprisonment locked away under the thick skin of necessity.  No comfort, but a curse, I recognize my fellows with inmate intimacy, whether low on homeless streets of despair or high in marbled towers of prosperity.  Like an invisible code on their foreheads there for my scanning, their living ghosts whisper of familiar farms bought far away, which first appeared as rice paddies to quicken people but then ended up only starving them into oblivion by the pestilent bullets that ate into their flesh like a violent carcinoma spreading poison quickly to their quick.  We unwillingly live with this lingering daily death, though not with a constant consciousness.  It seethes subcutaneously with wildly variable temperatures, but we always feel it there, often with numbed scar tissue and sometimes with tender lachrymal response.  Our souls were napalmed and agent-oranged in that small space for that short span, and the tendrils of those implantations punched holes in our lives, limping little mollified through all the rages of our roads to the places we now reside.  Toxins still spill from our pores but only in measured volumes to preserve humanity.  We have become war-to-grave managers of a parasitic hitchhiker we unknowingly picked up on a side road to our highway, a leech that seeks to bleed us of the life we desperately try to preserve to a peaceful end.  If we are successful, we keep private a beast that lives to gain generalship of all we count precious.  Lives lost, loves lost, families lost, fortunes lost, aspirations lost, minds lost, all in a holocaust of war-ignited costs have issued from this internal infernal adversary that defies both excision and exorcism and but scarcely abides containment.  But Lyndon, the chaos of my anger is the least of your concerns in your new country and is left to me to manage HERE.

CONFRONTING A BULLY

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Written by David Edwards

In 1959 in Odessa, Texas, Mike Capra struck fear in the hearts of most sixth-grade boys and many of the girls at Burnet Elementary School.  Mike was a big guy with a bad attitude.  He had dark hair with a flattop haircut, and after school hours he usually wore a black tee shirt with a pack of cigarettes rolled up in the left sleeve.  It was my first year at Burnet, where I also was a sixth-grader, and my family had moved just a few houses away from where Mike’s family lived.  On occasion I saw Mike’s father go to and from their house in his Ford pickup, and unsurprisingly, he had dark hair with a flattop haircut and usually wore a black tee shirt with a pack of cigarettes rolled up in the left sleeve.

Mike’s modus operandi was to extort lunch money, or sometimes lunch from kids.  What he offered them in return was a mafia-like protection, which they correctly understood to be protection from him.  Those who resisted his offer routinely wound up with some variety of bodily harm, along with standing threats of future injury, especially if they ratted on him either to parents or teachers.  So far as I knew, no one ever did. 

Supplementing his well-earned sinister reputation, Mike had a curious enterprising side to him.  In early November, I saw him displaying on school grounds during lunchtime and recess a placard attached to a stick he held announcing his Saturday fight against Dennis Sutton and Don Butler, both strapping boys.  The event would be held on a hill in a nearby vacant lot, and admission to the event would be at a cost of five cents, to be collected in advance.  I never learned what incentive possessed Dennis and Don to fight Mike but thought it probably was that they liked their two-against-one odds and wanted to be the heroes who stomped the school bully.  Unfortunately for them, that didn’t happen.  I wasn’t there, but the following Monday it came to my ears that Mike in a dirty fight had downed both of them and pushed them off the hill.

After that, I felt in my bones that it would not be long before I would receive Mike’s visit of intimidation, so I realized I had to plan for it.  My first thought was that I was the fastest runner in the school and that I could simply run from him without being overtaken.  But I soon abandoned that plan in favor of another, one that might work better.  I began its implementation by asking my parents for an early Christmas present—two pairs of boxing gloves.  I then approached Mike in a friendly way at his house, seeking to get on his good side, if he had one, while knowing that I was unlikely to become his friend, for Mike had no friendships.  I found that he liked animals and took care of many in his backyard—dogs, cats, snakes, raccoons, badgers, and other strange ones that I couldn’t recognize.  I helped him feed them and clean up their messes while engaging him in conversations about his best fights, which he was pleased to recount.

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Glenn Whittington

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Written By Ron Peavy

Upon hearing of the passing of Glenn Whittington, I was struck with mixed
emotions, extreme sadness and wonderful memories. Glenn valiantly fought cancer
for 17 months until he decided to move on to his heavenly home.
Glenn and I first became acquainted in the San Jacinto Junior High boys’ locker
room in September 1956. As I recall, Glenn was consoling me while recovering
from being forced by Coach Volpe to tackle Eric Moore 1-on-1 during our 8 th
grade football practice. With Glenn’s thoughtful support and encouragement, I
fully recovered.

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Norman “Glenn” Whittington (RIP)

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September 12, 1943 – June 6, 2024

Southlake, Texas – N. Glenn Whittington (80) passed away surrounded by family and friends on June 6, 2024, after a battle with cancer. Glenn was a devoted husband, loving father and grandfather, and a good friend to everyone he met.

Born on September 12, 1943, in Shreveport, Louisiana, Glenn grew up in Midland, Texas where he attended Midland High School. He later attended Texas Christian University where he was an active member of Sigma Chi.

After graduating from TCU in 1967, Glenn served in the U.S. 8th Army overseas in Korea.

Glenn’s successful career in the securities industry began in 1970 and included 23 years with UBS PaineWebber, where he held a variety of senior management positions. He retired in 2004 as a senior vice president of Wachovia Securities and created NGW Consulting through which he provided expert witness testimony in financial-related matters.

Outside of work, Glenn enjoyed supporting all things TCU, playing golf, traveling, and spending time on Lake Tyler with his family.

He is survived by his wife of 56 years, Dianne Whittington, of Southlake, TX; son Richard Whittington, wife Courtney and grandsons Michael and Benjamin of Greensboro, NC; daughter Lara Clark, husband Brian and granddaughters Kendall and Madison of Lewisville, TX; sister-in-law Inger Whittington; nephews Owen Pratt, Neal Pratt and Arlen Whittington; and niece Ellen Whittington. He was preceded in death by his father Jim Whittington, mother Ginny Whittington; sister Patty Williams; and brother Jimmy Whittington.

The family extends their thanks and appreciation to those that loved and helped care for Glenn during the last two years, including UT Southwestern, Baylor Scott & White Grapevine, BrightStar, Encompass Health of Bedford, Harbor Chase of Southlake and especially care-giver Joel Che.

In his desire to continue helping others, Glenn donated his body to science. The family is planning a memorial service at 1:00pm on Monday, July 15, at White’s Chapel Methodist Church in Southlake followed by a celebration of life. To honor Glenn’s memory, consider a donation to Circle of Friends (P.O. Box 374, Colleyville, TX 76034), a charity supporting children with cancer at Cook’s Hospital, or to a charity of your choice.

HOMESCHOOLED

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Most of our generation of 60+ were
HOMESCHOOLED in many ways: 

1. My mother taught me TO APPRECIATE A JOB WELL DONE .
  “If you’re going to kill each other, do it outside. I just finished cleaning.”

  2. My mother taught me RELIGION.
“You better pray that will come out of the carpet.”

  3. My father taught me about TIME TRAVEL
  “If you don’t straighten up, I’m going to knock you into the middle of next week!”

  4. My father taught me LOGIC.
  ” Because I said so, that’s why.”

  5. My mother taught me MORE LOGIC .
“If you fall out of that swing and break your neck, you’re not going to the store with me.”

  6. My mother taught me FORESIGHT.
“Make sure you wear clean underwear, in case you’re in an accident.”

  7. My father taught me IRONY.
“Keep crying, and I’ll give you something to cry about.”

  8. My mother taught me about the science of OSMOSIS.
“Shut your mouth and eat your supper.”

  9. My mother taught me about CONTORTIONISM.
“Just you look at that dirt on the back of your neck!”

10. My mother taught me about STAMINA.
“You’ll sit there until all that spinach is gone.”

click here to read more

Most of our generation of 60+ were
HOMESCHOOLED in many ways: 

1. My mother taught me TO APPRECIATE A JOB WELL DONE .
  “If you’re going to kill each other, do it outside. I just finished cleaning.”

  2. My mother taught me RELIGION.
“You better pray that will come out of the carpet.”

  3. My father taught me about TIME TRAVEL
  “If you don’t straighten up, I’m going to knock you into the middle of next week!”

  4. My father taught me LOGIC.
  ” Because I said so, that’s why.”

  5. My mother taught me MORE LOGIC .
“If you fall out of that swing and break your neck, you’re not going to the store with me.”

  6. My mother taught me FORESIGHT.
“Make sure you wear clean underwear, in case you’re in an accident.”

  7. My father taught me IRONY.
“Keep crying, and I’ll give you something to cry about.”

  8. My mother taught me about the science of OSMOSIS.
“Shut your mouth and eat your supper.”

  9. My mother taught me about CONTORTIONISM.
“Just you look at that dirt on the back of your neck!”

10. My mother taught me about STAMINA.
“You’ll sit there until all that spinach is gone.”

click here to read more

Most of our generation of 60+ were
HOMESCHOOLED in many ways: 

1. My mother taught me TO APPRECIATE A JOB WELL DONE .
  “If you’re going to kill each other, do it outside. I just finished cleaning.”

  2. My mother taught me RELIGION.
“You better pray that will come out of the carpet.”

  3. My father taught me about TIME TRAVEL
  “If you don’t straighten up, I’m going to knock you into the middle of next week!”

  4. My father taught me LOGIC.
  ” Because I said so, that’s why.”

  5. My mother taught me MORE LOGIC .
“If you fall out of that swing and break your neck, you’re not going to the store with me.”

  6. My mother taught me FORESIGHT.
“Make sure you wear clean underwear, in case you’re in an accident.”

  7. My father taught me IRONY.
“Keep crying, and I’ll give you something to cry about.”

  8. My mother taught me about the science of OSMOSIS.
“Shut your mouth and eat your supper.”

  9. My mother taught me about CONTORTIONISM.
“Just you look at that dirt on the back of your neck!”

10. My mother taught me about STAMINA.
“You’ll sit there until all that spinach is gone.”

click here to read more

Submitted by Pete Creasey

Most of our generation of 60+ were
HOMESCHOOLED in many ways: 

1. My mother taught me TO APPRECIATE A JOB WELL DONE .
  “If you’re going to kill each other, do it outside. I just finished cleaning.”

  2. My mother taught me RELIGION.
“You better pray that will come out of the carpet.”

  3. My father taught me about TIME TRAVEL
  “If you don’t straighten up, I’m going to knock you into the middle of next week!”

  4. My father taught me LOGIC.
  ” Because I said so, that’s why.”

  5. My mother taught me MORE LOGIC .
“If you fall out of that swing and break your neck, you’re not going to the store with me.”

  6. My mother taught me FORESIGHT.
“Make sure you wear clean underwear, in case you’re in an accident.”

  7. My father taught me IRONY.
“Keep crying, and I’ll give you something to cry about.”

  8. My mother taught me about the science of OSMOSIS.
“Shut your mouth and eat your supper.”

  9. My mother taught me about CONTORTIONISM.
“Just you look at that dirt on the back of your neck!”

10. My mother taught me about STAMINA.
“You’ll sit there until all that spinach is gone.”

click here to read more