Long Hollow

And I thought the sunrise was beautiful...

I don't like working as late as I did today, shutting down my office about the same time the sun is calling it a day. I like to have it still shining bright when I pull up to the house. It makes me feel like I still have hours and hours left to get things done.

But this afternoon I had a Jobs4Autism blog post I needed to finish, so by the time I headed home, it seemed like a race between me and the sun.

And then I noticed the sky...

Suddenly I didn't mind driving home while the sun was saying goodnight. It was all I could do to keep my eyes on the road. Once home, I dropped my bags on the floor, grabbed my camera and captured the glorious grand finale...

An Adventure a Day

If I were an artist, I would paint a picture of this hollow as it looked this morning...muted greens and browns along the road where the mists and shadows of night still lingered...blazing golds and reds in the treetops and hillsides basking in the fresh sunshine....Max, Charly and Frankie making their way along the caliche road that stretches out before me, that rises, twists and turns like a child's roller coaster ride before disappearing into a distant haze at the base of a hill...the pink blush on the horizon melting into a cloudless Easter blue sky above it all...

No photograph of mine could do it justice. But then, even a painting couldn't capture the cool breeze, the songs of the morning birds, the quiet plodding of our feet on the wet caliche, Charly's panting, Max's warning barks at imagined dangers, Frankie's excited twitter and inquisitive trills.

Our walks are taking longer and longer. I made the mistake yesterday of leaving it last, so when Max and Charly disappeared up a hill at the bend, I was agitated, knowing they were going to make me run even later than usual to work.

Max returned when I called, but not Charly. He played the 'deaf old man' card and kept plodding deeper into the woods. Dang old dog. I stepped across the little stream and into the woods after him, emerging a few minutes later at the little pond nestled at the bases of converging hills. It was beautiful. I was still anxious to get back, but at the same time, I was grateful to the old fart for leading me off the usual path and experiencing something different.

And how could I begrudge him a little adventure? We should all hope for at least one adventure a day. So this morning our walk came before writing and when Max and Charly clambered up a small steep hill on another little adventure, I didn't call them back. I figured if Charly had the gumption to tackle it (it was a pretty steep climb and he had to work at it), who was I to hold him back?

That old dog just keeps teaching me.

"It was the thing to do...": Thanking Those in Uniform, Past and Present

My big brother Buster was headed to Viet Nam, saying his goodbyes, when I stood beside him in this photograph and smiled. I had no idea what was ahead of him. This was probably taken before his first tour of duty and so he had only a vague idea himself what to expect. When he volunteered for his second tour, however, he knew full well what he was stepping into...but he did it anyway. 

My dad was in high school when the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor. He joined the Navy soon after high school graduation because his country was at war and "it was the thing to do." In the next twenty-two months he traveled a long way from Texas aboard the U.S.S. Geneva...to places like the Philippines, the Marshall Islands, China, Burma, Japan. Before he turned twenty, he had seen cities that had been destroyed by war and piles of dead bodies waiting to be buried. A few years later, his little brother Bobby followed his lead and joined the Navy, and many years later, so did my brother Donnie and two nephews.

My husband Tom was raised in a military family. For him it was normal to move every few years to someplace completely different...by the time he was eight or nine years old, he had lived in three countries! He grew up on a tight budget - hand-me-downs, powdered milk and only two cookies a day...period! And yet as soon as he could he joined the service...the Coast Guard. Among other things, he helped rescue fisherman off the coast of Alaska. Four of his brothers also joined the service (three career Air Force, just like their dad, and another Coast Guard) and the youngest joined the Army Reserves. Now the next generation is following in their footsteps: two Air Force and one Coast Guard.

I think it's very fitting that Veterans Day shares November with Thanksgiving, a day when we slow down to remember and be grateful for things that we usually take for granted, because veterans, despite the sacrifices they make for all of us, probably don't even make it onto our Thanksgiving thank-you list. That's how much most of us take them for granted - as well as the freedoms they protect for us. Even when our country isn't at war, they go where they are needed to unfamiliar places, away from extended family, often living on a minimum salary. To many they are a symbol of war, not peace, and sadly become targets of derision, scorn, blame... and even violence, like this sad week at Ft. Hood.

They deserve to be thanked every day of the year. A friend of mine says that when he's in a restaurant and sees a man or woman in uniform, he secretly pays their bill. What a wonderful idea! I think more of us should go out of our way every day to show our appreciation, but I'm glad there is at least one special day where we shine a spotlight on them, remember their sacrifices and make clear our gratitude.

Thank you Daddy, Tom, Pop, Buster, Donnie, Uncle Bobby, Kenny, Steve, Joe, Robbie, John, Sheila, Michael, Tom, Lynn, Robbin, Evan...and all of the other Veterans out there!

Connected by Words

I didn't want to drive Tom's car to work Friday. My free trial period for XM Radio was on the eve of termination and I wanted to listen every minute I could until it was gone. At $12 a month, I didn't care about it enough to subscribe, but I wanted all the 'free' I could get.

But Tom needed to change the oil in my car and we were heading to Houston as soon as I got home. 'Nuff said. I climbed into his car, resigned to the situation, and turned up the radio. What a surprise to hear a familiar voice on the radio...a distinctive Texas twang talking about sunsets on Lake Travis and a black bird. It was a writer friend, Frances Nail, reading one of her essays on National Public Radio.

Frances had been on my mind lately - I hadn't heard from her in a while and wondered how she was doing...if she was still writing. She's around my dad's age and one of my inspirations - she didn't start writing until her sixties, but when she started - whoa!- she churned out essays and memoirs at a rate that made me green with envy! It seemed every week I saw her name in the Houston Chronicle's Texas magazine's State Lines column. She would have three published before I could even finish one!

We met because of one of those first essays she wrote almost twenty years ago...she quoted a few lines from one of my favorite poems, "Little Boy Blue" by Eugene Fields. She had 'lost' the rest of the poem (the essay was about things she had lost.)

Right away, I typed out the entire poem and sent it to the editor, Ken Hammonds, asking him to forward it to Frances. Soon, she wrote me herself from her home in Lakeway, thanking me. Not long after that, we moved to the other side of the lake. She had published her first book, Crow in the House, Wolf at the Door, a collection of her essays and memoirs, and invited us to the book-signing in an old house downtown. That was our first face-to-face meeting.

When her second book was published, we had our second face-to-face meeting. I sat in the audience of  a panel at the Texas Book Festival she was in with Liz Carpenter and Leon Hale, both college friends of hers and successful writers. Afterwards, I said hi to her and she introduced me to Leon Hale, a dream come true for me - I had been reading his column in the Houston Chronicle for as long as I had been able to read.

We emailed a little after that, but it's been a while since I'd heard from her. I'm not sure what made me think of her recently, but hearing her voice on the radio was like an answer to a prayer. If I had driven my car, if I had left a little bit later, I would have missed it. I just love "coincidences" like that.

Minutes Tucked Away

Frankie pecked at the door this morning - "where the heck are you?" - pulling me away from my writing and out for our morning walk, later than normal. I was entangled with words and story, reluctant to stop, unaware of the time.

The sun was already up above the hill, the hollow full of sunshine. We walked through stripes of shadow and light, cool and warm. Dew glistened on the grasses and Frankie's tummy feathers grew damp as he scurried through the clumps, eating the bugs off the wet blades like I would clean the last bits of fudgesicle off the stick. Max hurried ahead of us to the bend - the past few days he has disappeared somewhere, off on an adventure, running full speed to catch up with us before we get back to the house.

For the most part, Charly plods along beside me. He stumbles every now and then, he wobbles when he lifts his leg to pee (but he lifts it!), and his bark has become more of a cough. His sense of smell is still keen, though - this morning he followed a trail into the woods and, on the way back home, stopped for several minutes to thoroughly investigate some weeds on the edge of the road.

This is our routine. I tuck these scenes away with all the others, memories that I hope bring me peace when the morning comes - and I know it's not far away - that Charly isn't by my side for our walk.

Some dear friends lost one of their much-loved dogs this week. They are remembering him, remembering the routines, feeling the loss of his presence, but grateful there are so many times to remember...times that keep him alive in their hearts. I think of them and their loss and I'm treasuring these minutes I have with Charly even more than before.

Grieve not,
nor speak of me with tears,
but laugh and talk of me
as if I were beside you...
I loved you so -
'twas Heaven here with you.

--Isla Paschal Richardson

 Rest in peace, Boonie Man.

 

 

Shakin' Things Up

I headed off for my walk before the sun even kissed the tops of the trees in the hollow today. The full moon started the magic of the morning...when I emerged from the bedroom, I was greeted with moonlight that splashed across the back deck and reached into the house through the French doors.  I hurried to the doors to catch a glimpse of it, but it hid from me behind the roof line, just out of my line of vision. It was already cold in the house, so I decided against stepping outside for a better view.

It was when the horizon turned pink above the treeline that I decided to change up my routine: mornings are now for writing, evenings for working out. By the time I get home from work in the evenings, my brain is tired, my creativity has long given up on me and curled up somewhere for a nap. And once it's asleep, it's hard to wake back up, believe me!

So instead of my work-out, I headed out for a walk with the critters earlier than normal. They were all excited, invigorated by the cooler weather. Even Frankie came with us!

As we walked the sunlight steadily worked its way down into the hollow. It was actually cool enough to see my breath wisping away from me. Along the way a vulture swooped low twice and each time Frankie scurried for cover in the trees, making a high-pitched squeal and trill...different enough from his usual chatterings and chirpings that it caught my attention. I'm glad I know his distress call now.

By the time I plopped down in front of the computer, my brain was refreshed from the fresh, brisk air, the sunshine and the singing of the little creek, and in that next hour I spent with my great-great grandfather, the words came a little easier than they had been lately and I was able to move him further along in his journey.

Unfortunately, my body isn't going to like this new routine. It's had way too much time to dread the upcoming work-out and think up excuses...like needing to finish a blog post started earlier today. How could I fall for that?

But I'm onto its tricks now - time to sweat! I hope there's something good on TV...

Pop! and a Belated Halloween Visitor

POP! That's the sound Tom's ankle made yesterday as we prepared to cross Jollyville Road for the car show. No exciting story...just a matter of stepping wrong on the angled curb.

 "Pop!" was followed by a curse word mingled with a groan and instead of crossing the street, we sat down on the curb to evaluate the situation. The car show disappeared from my mind...I was trying to figure out how to get Tom back to the car...parked half a mile away.

But, of course, he refused to miss the car show and I knew it would be a waste of time to argue with him. We walked a little, rested a little while eating Rudy's melt-in-your-mouth BBQ, then walked a little more - about three hours more - before he decided he should get his ankle home, elevated, and iced down.

Tom has had, among other injuries, a broken ankle (the other one), a broken foot (the same one), and a bruised thigh (much more serious than it sounds, apparently.) He was comparing this injury to the worst of them on our way home...that's how bad it hurt. Mostly he lamented that he had the next week off - he had lots of work planned around the house and hated to waste his days off with an injury!

Thanks to the University of Texas football game on television last night, he spent several hours with his foot propped up. We both still figured it would be a rainbow-colored swollen mess this morning, but surprisingly  he was able to limp in and out of church, up and down the stairs, and in and out of the house to the grill where he's smoking some ribs. It takes a lot to keep this guy down! What a relief to both of us!! (I really don't mind taking over his 'chores' like feeding the dogs at night if I need to...it's relaxing to sit on the porch gazing at the stars and listening to the night... but it takes up time I could use doing something else!)

Speaking of the grill...he found a new visitor, very appropriate for the Halloween season, hiding inside the cabinet. I don't think this one will stick around long, though, so I snapped a picture while I had the chance.

First here are some pictures from the car show. I found more old trucks I like and Tom found a Ford GT he could be happy with. Ken, from Colvin Automotive, noticed my Nikon and offered to take my picture sitting inside the Ford GT. (It's fun to dream every once in a while!) So I took a picture of Ken and K.C. Colvin, owner of the business. Ken spent a lot of time talking to me, Tom, and our friend Dean about engines, but I admit that after awhile, I lost interest. I'm not at the car shows for the big, pretty engines. For me, it's about art - color and design. And I found art aplenty at this show...

This green truck caught my eye...

Tom's pick, a Ford GT...

But I got to sit inside one...

K.C. Colvin and Ken of Colvin Automotive...

Guys love an engine....

But I love the art and creativity...

Our visitor!

 

All Tricked Out (Happy Halloween!)

Halloweens just aren't the same for me and Tom. It seems like only yesterday I was tagging along with my costumed kids, screening houses, holding a flashlight, warning against eating the candy before we had a chance to check it for razor blades and straight pins.

  

 This year I helped Kendall shop for a costume and I have two pumpkins sitting on the porch, but they're just pumpkins, not Jack-O-Lanterns, and I didn't get to see Kendall in her costume.

Even though tonight we anticipate no miniature ghosts or ballerinas knocking on our door shouting "Trick or Treat!" (we live too far from other houses to make it worth any kid's while to come scavenging here for candy), and instead of passing out candy, we're watching the University of Texas play Oklahoma State on television, we were reminded that it was Halloween at this car show today...

 

 
Not quite the same as the old days, but it was still a lot of fun and not nearly as exhausting. Hope you're having a Happy Halloween, too! 

Writing...and not writing

I expected a stormy afternoon. Instead, blues skies and a brisk wind greeted me when I stepped outside after work...invigorating weather that makes you want to forget about to-do lists and go hiking in the woods. So that's what I did when I got home - I joined Tom and the boys for a walk down to the damn dam (another several tons of dirt have collapsed into our pond and a big chunk is breaking away, ready to fall.)

Next, we headed across our own dam and down to our little pond and waterfall. I love watching the water rush over the rock ledge into the pool...love the rushing, cleansing sound of it. We spent some time down there, peering downstream at the overgrown brush. I could tell Tom's brain-wheels were turning -  he has decided to focus on the creek, clear out the brush, build some little paths so we can enjoy that part of our property, rather than the big pond, to take our eyes and minds off of the damn dam.

We wandered back to the house, ate dinner, cleaned up the kitchen. He headed up to work on his car and then down to exercise and watch television. I started some laundry then headed to the computer to find information for a new post on our Jobs4Autism  website, check emails and catch up on Facebook. I took a break to watch the Office, move laundry around, load the dishwasher and now here I am again, at 9pm trying to toss my loose thoughts onto this blog so I can work on my book. About the time I finally get going on it and start losing myself in the story, bedtime taps me on the shoulder. A few years ago I would have ignored it and kept writing, but that's getting harder and harder to do the older I get.

I know, I know....there are a few ways I could squeeze in more time for writing. Perhaps ignore Facebook or skip The Office. But really...I don't watch much television to begin with, and keeping in touch with people on Facebook has been a real blessing. And my blog not only clears my head and serves as warm-up writing, but it's therapeutic. Ain't touching that!

Well, I'll just keep chipping away in 30 to 40 minute increments every night and hope for more time down the road. Eventually, a book will emerge.

It helps that I have friends who believe in my writing. My friend Rae gave me this pencil box and it sits on my desk in front of me as I write...a reminder (thank you, sweet Rae!)

Spirits Bound by Timeless Love and Sweetness

This past weekend - a glorious Texas-style autumn weekend of golden sunshine, blue skies, vivid sunsets and star-filled nights - my house was filled with laughter and voices that have kept me company off and on for more than 30 years...some for more than 40...bringing back memories of those first slumber parties when we ate Doritos, danced, wrapped houses, and told scary stories. Who would have guessed we'd still be giggling together after all these years?

"Friendship is that virtue by which spirits are bound by timeless love and sweetness and out of many are made one." (St. Aelred of Rievaulx wrote that in the 12th century)

I wonder if St. Aelred was talking about friendships he'd had since childhood? I love the image of this quote...

"...timeless...": we're averaging 40 years of friendship
"...love and sweetness...": we're sweeter to each other for sure...no more teenage high drama...and we've become blatantly affectionate. Lots and lots of hugs and kisses and "love you"s whenever we're together.
"...out of many are made one...": we continue to draw closer and closer to one another, like one huge family or one entity, held together by shared memories (and adding to them all the time) and a name: Deer Park.

This time we gathered to celebrate my friend Ann's 51st birthday (click here to read my tribute to Ann written in honor of her 50th birthday last year.)

She arrived from Missouri Friday afternoon. We relaxed and talked a little, then zipped off with Tom to meet Darla, her daughter, Leslie and Clive at the Steiner Ranch Steakhouse, the perfect spot to watch the sunset, listen to music, dance and talk. We lucked out - there was a fabulous band performing that night: Suede. What a flashback to the '70's and '80's! The dancefloor was packed with fans, but we elbowed our way in and danced along with them, transported back to our Uncle Sam's Disco days. What a great surprise to recognize a familiar face on the dancefloor - Audrey, another (younger) Deer Park girl-turned-Austinite that I really only met this summer through another friend, Shari. The world gets smaller and smaller every day, doesn't it?  (me with Ann...me with Audrey)

 

Saturday morning Ann and I enjoyed playing catch-up on the back porch, listening to the rush of the little waterfall tumbling into the pond below us and watching Frankie the guinea dance with his reflection in the French doors. It had been years since we'd had alone time like this!

Soon the other girls rolled in from Deer Park, Temple and Round Rock...Darla, Donna, Rae, Patti and Lisa (an adopted Deer Park girl - she married into us.) Tom visited a little then hit the road in the Suzuki to enjoy some solitude, camping out near the lake. The girls and I ate, drank, hiked, laughed, took lots and lots pictures and then scrambled to get ready to head into Austin to see Jimmy LeFave at Threadgill's. (the girls by my little pond)

What Ann didn't know was that Annie K., another dear friend, had driven in from Colorado just to celebrate Ann's birthday and would be meeting us there. It's hard to believe, but none of us slipped up and gave it away and she was truly surprised. I'm sure that was the best birthday gift she received. (the two Anns together again)

A few more Deer Park-ians met us at Threadgill's - Vickie, Larry, Roy, Ann's sister Becky and her husband Steve. It was an outdoor concert and we hovered near the back so we could talk and dance while we listened to Jimmy. (our group...Jimmy LeFave) 

This was one of those weekends when I didn't want to waste a single minute. Ann and I stayed up until almost 3am talking in bed (or was it almost 4am? My eyes and memory aren't what they used to be.) The next morning we were up before anyone else, watching the morning sunlight ease its way down into the hollow. 

Ann was the first to leave - she had to catch a flight to Oregon - but the rest of us dragged the weekend out as long as we could, meeting other friends for lunch in Austin. It was hard to finally say goodbye, but it helped knowing there will be a "next time" before very long. The older we get, the more we realize what a precious gift we have in our friendship - some say it's an anomaly, this friendship with former high school classmates that continues to grow larger and larger like a rubber band ball. Many people don't understand how we can still be friends after all these years - or why we would even want to be - considering there have been huge gaps in our friendships.

I don't really understand it myself, but I think that just makes it even more wondrous to me. And to be honest, I'd rather spend time celebrating these friendships than analyzing them...when's the next get-together?

"It doesn't have to be somber to be sacred." (David J. Wolpe)