Long Hollow

I Should Know Better

     I feel like I'm drowning, suffocated by my own good intentions, ambition, dreams, and false-sense of time, specifically the number of hours in a day. I'm trying to do everything I want to do and think I need to do, and I can feel myself fading away, diluted by duty. 

     I should know better - I'm a recovering volunteer-junkie. I had weaned myself down to just "mediocre band mom" and "Boy Scout Troop Treasurer". I had learned to say "No" like I meant it. I had to - my good intentions were getting in the way of my dreams and I was running out of time...my fiftieth birthday is just around the corner. And I was exhausted.

     I cut out this quote by Thomas Merton, a man who struggled all his life with conflicts between dreams and duty, and taped it above my computer monitor to remind me and encourage me that it was okay to say "No!": "To allow oneself to be carried away by a multitude of concerns, to surrender to too many demands, to commit oneself to too many projects, to want to help everyone in everything...destroys the fruitfulness of our own work, because it kills the root of inner wisdom which makes work fruitful."

     But still, when I found out that we had a chance to have the University of Texas kids come out and hold a youth retreat at our church, but no one wanted to step up and take charge, I volunteered. Some may be skeptical, but I heard (not literally...more like a strong feeling) God telling me to do it. I've never heard God speak like that to me. Usually he gives me nothing more than strong suggestions; sometimes I wonder if I really hear him right, if I'm really doing what he wanted or just telling myself that so I can do what I want.

    This was different; I had no doubt it was him talking to me. And since I ask every morning for him to tell me what I need to do, how could I say no? Besides, I knew that if it was something God wanted done, he would make sure it worked out. He'd really be doing the work. And he has. So I haven't really stressed about it - potential problems that popped up along the way have just disappeared. I've watched small miracles unfold daily.

    And yet...it has still taken a lot of my time and energy and brain work, and I admit I'll be glad when this weekend is over and the retreat is in the past. My early momentum and excitement is dwindling, and it's contagious - it's spreading to my other activities. I find it hard to get motivated to do anything, even work on my screenplay.

    Which reminds me...back to work.

Keeping up with TG

     I have been caught up in the cyclone of TG this weekend, whirling from one activity to another, and trying to do my homework in between. Her schedule is exhausting, but I think it's pretty typical for a high school student these days. I don't remember being this busy, though.

    Friday night was filled with the football game in Lexington, which is about two hours from here. To make up for not riding the bus with the band, I picked up the 50 pre-ordered Subway sandwiches and three bags of ice and delivered them to the high school as they were loading up their equipment and preparing to pull out. They didn't get back to the high school until about 1am.

   The next day she had to be back up there at noon to prepare for a marching band competition in Pflugerville. I left the house around 2:30 to run errands on my way to Pflugerville for their performance at 4pm. They won first place in their division, including flag team! (Nevermind that they were the only band competing in their division (2A) and they don't have a flag team.) I had already written a note for her to ride home with me - the band was initially planning to stay until the end, not getting home until 11pm. Neither of us could take another late night like that. We laughed when we got to the van. Someone had left us a note...

    I guess I should be embarrassed, but I'm not. I'm just too busy right now to care, especially when I know that with one trip down my road it'll be covered with dust again.There's no sign of rain in the forecast, though, so I'll probably break down and swing into the carwash on my way to work one day this week. Maybe.

   Sunday we were on our way to the University of Texas campus about the time I would have been getting up for church. She was scheduled to attend an all-day Women in Engineering seminar.

  TG doesn't get much experience driving on the freeway living out here in the boonies, so I let her drive, knowing there wouldn't be much traffic.  There's this one road close to campus, Windsor, that scares me with its twists and turns and narrow lanes even when I'm driving, so you can see that my trust in her driving has grown tremendously. She did a great job...I only squealed and gasped a handful of times.

  Except for one short meeting, parents would be on their own, so I packed a bagful of my homework and even optimistically tossed in The Other Boleyn Girl, planning to find a quiet picnic table somewhere and get caught up. The meeting lasted longer than I expected - right up until lunch. I walked to the Drag and ate at Potbelly Sandwiches, one of Daniel's favorite spots, wishing he could join me. He was off at the Austin City Limits Festival in Zilker Park, lucky kid. Figures...the one day I have to hang out at UT, he's not there.

   But I enjoyed my day anyway. Walking around UT reminds me of walking around a little European town or something. I think if I had gone there way back when, I wouldn't have dropped out. After eating, I stopped at a little sidewalk art/jewelry market. I bought a ring made from a French coin - 10 francs - to inspire me as I write the screenplay for my great-great granddad's memoir (his grandfather escaped France during the Revolution.) At another booth I found THE EARRINGS I'VE BEEN SEARCHING FOR!! Sterling silver hoops on wires. Very simple, but I haven't found them anywhere else, and certainly not for $10.

   I grabbed some iced coffee and strolled around campus, stopping outside of one of the libraries and actually doing some homework at a little iron table for a while. It was a gorgeous day. I visited the Catholic Youth Center, noting that it's right across the street Daniel's dorm and so he can't use the excuse that "it's too far to walk to Mass" this year.

    I made my way back to the engineering side of campus, called my mom, and before I knew it, it was time to pick TG up and head home (after a quick stop at the mall, of course.)

   The laundry stayed piled up and the house didn't get cleaned (or the van washed) - but that's okay - I was busy being Mom, spending time with my baby.        

Taking turns...

 

 

 

Guess what Tom taught Frankie while I was gone last weekend? 

sleeping in class

     Last week I fell asleep watching "To Kill a Mockingbird."  This week our assignment was "Rear Window"  and "The Graduate." I had "Rear Window" on VHS - Wednesday night I finished up my chores and settled down to watch it at 9pm. At 10pm, Tom was shaking me awake.

    I ordered "The Graduate" from Amazon, but it hasn't come in yet. I've seen it before, though. My sister took me and my brother Donnie to see it at the LaPorte Drive-In when I was in third grade. Give her a break - she was only about seventeen at the time - she didn't know any better. Tom and I watched it again a few years ago and I couldn't believe I'd seen it when I was just nine! But it is a good movie.

   I signed up for Netflix and ordered "Matewan," the movie made of gold. Tom and I watched it tonight. I thought I'd be able to stay awake because I'd never seen it, but from the opening credits I knew I was doomed - my kids performed in the play "Fire in the Hole" which is very much like this movie - right down to lines and characters and plots. Sure enough, before too long Tom was shaking me..."Are you asleep?!"

   Now I've got twenty minutes to turn in my assignment. That's what I get for dropping out thirty years ago, but at least I'm trying now! I just wish I could stay awake...

The Beginning of Us

Tom asked me to dance on Sept. 25, 1981. I was at Kenny Stabler's Diamondback Saloon on a rare Friday night off, in a bad mood because my boyfriend of five years "had other plans" that night. That wasn't unusual - he wasn't a very good boyfriend. To top it off, none of my friends I expected to see were there that night. I felt very alone.

I guess that's how it is with a miracle - when you least expect it, when you feel like nothing is going right, it pops up out of the blue, or, in this case, steps up and asks you to dance.

This is my version of that night: It was some Michael Jackson song that I didn't like - Tom knows which one - and I wouldn't normally dance to it, not even in a good mood. I had the "no" on my lips, but "yes" came out instead. What could I do but follow him onto the dance floor, waiting for the song to end so I could go back in my corner and brood some more?

But when the song ended, a country-western tune started right up and he asked me to dance again. I hesitated - I had talked to him enough to know he talked funny, which meant he was probably a Yankee and wouldn't know how to two-step. But before I could answer, he took me in his arms and started dancing. Two-stepping! While we danced, we talked. I learned his name, that he was from Maryland, and he was twenty-four even though he looked younger than me. By the time the song was over, I had agreed to sit at his table.

He was with an interesting mix of people...including a friend's Welsh wife (the friend was a Pasadena cop who was working nights), her New York friends, and Chris, a redhead from Maryland who preferred punk rock to country-western. I was the only Texan.

When it was time to leave, he walked me outside, asked what I was doing the next night (going to Gilley's to see Alabama perform) and could he meet me there? Sure. My boyfriend had already told me he didn't want to go. Then, with a peck of a kiss, Tom walked away to join his friends, leaving me to wonder what the heck had just happened.

I told my boyfriend I was meeting someone at Gilley's. He didn't care - he wasn't worried. We had a pretty loose relationship by then. I was worried, though. Worried I wouldn't recognize Tom. I stood at the bar where I could see customers coming through the door. Was that him? "Tom," I called. He glanced up in the direction of my voice, and I smiled and waved. He smiled and made his way to me. Whew!

I don't know if I believe in "love at first sight," or if there's such a thing as "someone for everyone," soul mates destined to meet and live happily ever after. But I do know that something changed in me that night at Gilley's. Tom and I talked, laughed, and danced. Later, he walked me to my car, and we really kissed. He asked for my phone number and I gave it to him. I didn't know if this was something that would last forever, but I knew I wanted to spend more time with him. I knew I would be telling my boyfriend good-bye, no matter what happened between me and Tom.

The next two weeks were a blur of emotions and firsts...

• Our first movie: Continental Divide with John Belushi.
• Our first dinner out: Mario's Pizza in Galveston, followed by stargazing in a sleeping bag on the beach. (He brought stemmed glasses and wine in an ice chest. Lying there in the sleeping bag, he gave me his dog-tags; in my pre-Tom life, I would have thought it was a corny gesture, but that night it put butterflies in my stomach and melted my heart.)
• Our first rock concert: Pat Benatar.
• Our first trip to the Renaissance Festival.

Cute cards saying he missed me rested on my condo doorstep when I stumbled home after working the night shift. Was this guy for real? I dragged him to meet my friends and family, to get their opinion. Maybe there was something I wasn't seeing. But they all liked him...I liked his friends...they liked me. Where was the glitch? I couldn't find one.

It was an emotional high with an undercurrent of deep sadness. My boyfriend Chris had been a terrible boyfriend most of the time, but I loved him. We just weren't good for each other. I didn't think I could fall for anyone else until I met Tom.

As jealous as he'd always been, I guess Chris didn't think I would fall for anyone else, either, and it hit him hard. One morning soon after meeting Tom, I had just gotten to sleep after working the night shift, when a banging on my door woke me up. It was Chris. He went straight into my kitchen and grabbed a butcher knife. Before I had time to be scared, he jerked a small Norfolk pine he had given me out of its planter, scattering dirt all over the carpet, and started hacking away at the trunk, saying it was a symbol of our love. (To his credit, a few months later he called and apologized for how badly he had treated me and wished me well. We had just been kids, after all.)

Just two weeks after that first dance, Tom and I spent a perfect day at the Renaissance Festival outside of Houston with my parents, my brother, his girlfriend, and Tom's best friend. That evening, it happened: "Will you marry me?"

"Yes."

Wait! Was I crazy? "But don't tell anyone," I added. "Ask me again in a couple of months, and do it right, with a ring, even if it's a Cracker Jack ring." Two weeks was just too soon. I had to find out what was wrong with him. There had to be something - he was just too good to be true. Two months should be plenty of time.

But he called all of his brothers and friends, anyway. "I'm getting married!" They couldn't believe it. At his older brother's wedding just two months before, everyone had teased him he'd be next in line. "No way! I'm too young. I'm not getting married until I'm thirty-five."

Two months later landed on Thanksgiving. We went to my parents, after I had worked all night and only squeezed in a couple of hours of sleep. He dumped a dozen boxes of Cracker Jacks on my lap and told me to start looking for a ring. "What? You're nuts. They don't put rings in Cracker Jacks boxes anymore."

"Okay, you open these two and I'll open these," he said, somehow still smiling at me.

Grumbling, I opened the first box and dug out the prize envelope. I felt it before I opened it - a ring. My mouth dropped open. "Is it real?" But I knew it was. "How did you do that?" I might have been a little foggy from lack of sleep, but I swear the box and envelope had both been sealed.

He took the ring from me. "Will you marry me?"

Of course I said yes, and the rest is history.

  

Beijing Bronze for Our Hometown Hero

     Lago Vista may be small, but we have our own Olympic hero now - Lindsey Carmichael, daughter of the middle/high school nurse, just brought home the bronze in archery in the Paralympics in Beijing. She also competed in the Athens Paralympics in 2004.

     Not only is she a gifted archer, but she's an amazing writer, so check out her blog, Rings and Arrows, where she writes about her adventures in China and how it feels to be a medalist.

Retreat- ing to Port A

7:30 am - My eyes pop open. I throw on some clothes, grab my camera and a handful of peanuts, and I'm out the door.

7:45 am - I'm walking on the morning beach - so different from the midday beach. Different people...joggers, other walkers, wearing tennis shoes and funny hats. Different birds.... some seagulls and egrets, but also pelicans flying in formation low above the waves and those tiny little white ones that dart around just at the edge of the water. There's also a seagull-ish bird with an orange beak. I take pictures of them all, and also of the morning glories climbing the dunes and the black-eyed susans spreading out above them.

8:15 am - The sun performs a dance behind the clouds and finally breaks free. Time for coffee and cinnamon toast back in the room.

10:30 am - Swim suit on, ice chest loaded, beach bag shouldered (holding towel, sunscreen, lip balm, and The Other Boleyn Girl), Bloody Mary in hand. Time to go commune with the sun and sand, serenaded by the music of the crashing waves. 

    This was my routine Friday and Saturday. Heaven! We lined our eight lounge chairs side-by-side facing the water first thing in the morning so we could come and go all day. I almost finished my book! Besides total relaxation on the beach, we watched a few movies (Martian Child - it is so good!) and ate...and ate...and ate...and, oh yeah, I tried to do my homework. Really I did.

     Friday night we glammed it up and went out to eat - Trout Street Bar & Grill. Conni's daughter Lauren met a "really hot" guy on the plane flying in from Dallas, and his friend was a bartender at the restaurant. Afterward, some of us went to Sharkey's where this time of year we pretty much have the place to ourselves - a whole wooden dance floor and DJ just for us. "There is a bit of insanity in dancing that does everybody a great deal of good." (Edwin Denby) What a group - our ages ranged from not-quite-23 to 50-something.

    Saturday night Conni and Lauren created a feast - stuffed chicken parmigiana. Fabulous! Sunday morning Mary Kay made us a delicious breakfast - a brown betty (with bacon, sausage, fresh fruit, Canadian maple syrup, and mimosas, of course.)

    Every pound I gained this weekend was worth it, that's for sure.

   Here we are on the last morning - Lauren had an early flight, so I've added a photo of her with her mom.

 

Tiffany (Mary Kay's niece who flew in from California for this weekend), me, Mary Kay, Nancy, Conni, Cheryl the newlywed, and my sister Brenda, a Hurricane Ike evacuee after-the-fact (doing it in style!)

 

Spittin' images! Conni and Lauren on our balcony the first evening...we watched Lauren grow up - she graduated with Tommy and also went to UNT with him...she'll graduate in December with double Business degrees - it's hard to believe she is old enough to "Port A" with us! 

Sunrise in Port A

     Still busy with homework, but I couldn't resist sneaking back to the beach, at least through my photos...nothing like walking along the water first thing in the morning and seeing the sun break through the clouds like this...my pictures don't do it justice...what a show...

...and back again.

     Back to the real world this evening at 7:30 pm...lugging my suitcases and new ice chest filled with all the food we bought and didn't eat down to the house...unpacking...laundry...feeding dogs...homework that was technically due Friday night but isn't finished yet. I tried to work on it this weekend (really I did!) and got a little bit done, but it's hard when you're surrounded by friends you never get to see, and just outside of the window the sun is shining in a robin-egg blue sky, the waves are stretching onto the beach, and there are still a few chapters left in the book you started last May.

     So here I am at the computer at 10pm knowing tomorrow's minutes are already filled with work (at the church), work (at the insurance company), and open house at the high school. I have to focus and work on it tonight, even as I try to hold on to the memory of the sun's rays warming my body, the wind cooling it off, the waves playing background music while I sip my Bloody Mary and escape into the world of my novel.

    More later...but now, to my screenplay...

To the Sea...

Why I need this weekend in Port Aransas...

 

   

This is another reason...

I cannot even imagine where I would be today were it not for that handful of friends who have given me a heart full of joy. Let's face it: Friends make life a lot more fun. (Charles R. Swindoll )

Hope your weekend is full of friends and joy and fun...

Movie made of gold?

     I fell asleep last night doing my homework - I was watching "To Kill a Mockingbird."  I love that movie - it's one of my top three favorites (along with Monty Python's "Search for the Holy Grail" and "Mary Poppins" - what a combo, right?) I only fell asleep because I'm exhausted from trying to get everything done so I can run off to the coast this weekend to relax. Hmmm...

    Anyway, back to Mockingbird...I first watched it in third grade when I was a tomboy and had a haircut just like Scout's and a big brother just like Jem, except mine didn't let me tag along like Jem does Scout. I envied her that, as well as her front porch, porch swing, tire swing, and tree house. I loved the idea of a mysterious guardian watching over me, prepared to save my life and leaving me trinkets in the knothole of a tree. In fact, I filled a cigar box with trinkets much like theirs, but who knows where I gathered them up from.

    Even when I was little, I loved the messages of nonviolence and tolerance in the movie, that you shouldn't judge someone, that you should try to imagine what it's like walking around in their skin or seeing the world from their front porch. Atticus Finch made a big impression on me. I'm surprised I never wanted to be a lawyer.

   I "had" to watch Harrison Ford in "Witness" this weekend, and I "had" to order some other movies from Amazon - required viewing, you see. This screenwriting class doesn't feel like school at all, except for the deadlines. It's just giving me a good excuse to buy and watch movies, research more about my great-great grandfather's life and times, and start fleshing out the memoir he wrote back in 1901 that I want to turn into a screenplay...things I enjoy doing and have been wanting to devote more time to for years, but let that GUILT thing stop me. Now, I have to do it. It's school.

   One of the things I've learned from this class is that there exists an elusive movie, apparently made of gold, that I had never heard of before: "Matewan." You won't find it in any ordinary video store - only artsy ones, the kind with weird names that are near college campuses miles from your home. Amazon has it, but for what it costs, you could get ten other movies or a very nice pair of shoes, and the ones for sale on Ebay come from Australia and won't play in a normal USA DVD player. Figures. I'll continue searching for it. Wish me luck. It must be really good!

Purple Flowers continued...or...Why I Love Living in the Country

     The summer heat and drought took its toll on my purple flowers...but I'm happy to report they are hanging in there; I discovered two blossoms taking shelter amid the weeds at the bend in the road, stretching high enough to catch some sun, but staying low enough not to get scorched. I'm sure there's a lesson about survival here for us somewhere...

     Frankie thought about joining me and the dogs on our walk yesterday morning. He followed us quite a ways down the road, squawking the whole time (probably "Wait for me!" or "Slow down!"), before changing his mind and heading back to the house...

    "Climb the mountains and get their good tidings. Nature's peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees. The winds will blow their own freshness into you, and the storms their energy, while cares will drop off like autumn leaves."  (John Muir, American naturalist and writer, 19th century) 

     There are no real mountains around us, but if you climb to the top of the hill behind our house, the hill country unfolds down to a glimmer of the lake in the distance. I'm glad the cooler weather is here - it's just too hot to climb the hill very often in the summer. I guess I'm a little like the purple flowers, taking shelter in the shade and my air-conditioned house, staying low enough here in the hollow not to get scorched.

     But even from my back deck, I can look down upon the clearing and our little pond, and feel "good tidings." I see the sunshine on the trees, feel the freshness of the wind, watch the storms rumbling in from the safety of my porch, and see the hillside across from me blaze orange and red in the autumn. Nature's peace.

Guard Guinea

 

Seasons change

     Tom and I stood on the doorstep watching Tommy's little red Neon pull away from the house, headed back to Dallas. A montage of images flashed through my head, visions of my parents and Tom's parents standing on porches, waving goodbye to us as we pulled away after a visit. It hit me that Tommy doesn't live here anymore - not really. He only comes for visits now.

     What is this feeling that it triggers? Some sadness with a sprinkle of gratitude and a dash of pride...this is how it's supposed to be, after all...our goal from the minute we first heard the doctor say "Congratulations!" But still...

     There's a nip in the air this morning. I grab a jacket on my way out the door to walk the dogs. I've noticed the junipers turning a lighter shade of green, the maples have a hint of gold. But seasons are changing in more ways than one.

Ike Was Here

     One of my friends, Chris Santiago, sent these photos he took of some of the damage on Spencer Highway in LaPorte, just a few miles from my brother's house and our old neighborhood...it could have been much worse, I guess...

  

    

Together for a moment

      After church this morning, I asked my kids to let me get a picture of the three of them together before Tommy headed back to Dallas. I don't think that's asking too much, is it?

     They posed on the rock wall for me, and I probably snapped a dozen shots, but between Kendall's "I don't have time for this and I don't like to smile in pictures" face and Daniel's cheesy, fake smiles and silly poses, I only captured these two pictures that reveal the sweet, natural, funny faces I love. It was worth it.

A full nest and Goodbye, good riddance to Hurricane Ike

     Ike has come and gone, leaving a mess in his wake, but not creating nearly as much havoc as he could have. My family is fine...sweaty and sticky from the power outage, but safe.

     I'm happy to report my parents' old house weathered the storm with no damage - even the carport is still standing, although it's relatively new, thanks to some other storm. Ditto on Donnie's house. Brenda had some water in one bathroom, but they're not sure how it got in - the roof is untouched, although a tornado left it's signature dangerously close, twisting and splintering one tree and leaving it to die on the neighbor's carport. 

     I've been mesmerized by the televised scenes of destruction Ike did manage to paint on his way through the Galveston/Houston area. It reminds me of the aftermath of Alicia. When she hit in 1983, Tom and I lived in League City. We stayed up all night listening to the wind roar, wondering what the bumps and crashes could mean. Tom took advantage of the calm in the eye of the storm to try to patch up our damaged roof. The next day we walked through the neighborhood and drove to the bay, seeing crumpled houses, splintered trees, downed power lines, and washed up boats.

    Even though we're miles away and are feeling no physical effects from this storm, it's comforting to have all my "babies" here at home with us for the first time in months. This afternoon we gathered around the computer, watching funny videos on youtube...it reminded me of the days I would read to them  huddled around me on the couch.

     It was good to laugh after the hours of worry. Here's one Tommy showed us...Usher's "Love in this Club" perfomed by the Showbiz Pizza Band...hope it makes you laugh, too...

All Eyes on Ike

     Ike is really, really big. He's making me a little nervous now as I see the outer bands taking swipes at the dots on the Texas map where I have loved ones. My family is "hunkering down," my brother finally agreeing (last time I talked to him anyway) to heed the mandatory evacuation order for LaPorte and ride it out, along with his daughter and big puppy, with my parents in Pasadena.

     They won't be in as much danger of the storm surge there, but there are still tornadoes and high winds, flying debris, and flooding from rain to worry about. My parents' house has survived several hurricanes and tropical storms (if you consider once having a couple of feet of water in your house 'surviving'), but it's getting older, the land is sinking, and my mom woke up sick yesterday, so please keep them, and all the people in the path of the storm, in your prayers. It's going to be a long ride for them tonight.

Chasing (Dodging) 50 - thoughts on aging from DPHS Class of '77

     I'm not sure why, and I've said it before, but my high school class is unusually close to one another (maybe some special chemical escaped from one of the chemical plants that year??) After our thirtieth reunion last year, Byron Tully, screenwriter and poet, sent this ode that I felt summed it up...

We don't need no stinking website.

We're a gang, not a club.

If you weren't there, you can't join.

If you were there, you can't escape.

We are too old for grudges.

We are too wise to grow up.

We smoke and drink in the parking lot,

not by the pool.

We have been wicked and foolish beyond belief.

We are now close and compassionate beyond reason.

The years may come and go...

but class is never dismissed.

     E-mail has helped us all stay in touch. Here are a few from this past week, triggered by Barry Cofer, who just recently took up sky-diving:

     "As I see the birthday wishes every so often I wonder who has hit the Big 50 and who is closing in. I have a message from us to the young people we encounter...'Don't mess with the old farts. Age, skill, wisdom, and a little treachery always overcome youth and arrogance!'  Everyone have a great week, and if the 8 track, turntable, or cassette player are still working, give the Tokens "The Lions Sleep Tonight" a spin and see if that don't throw you back to Jr. High (or farther) for 2:43."          

     Mark Snell, former plant operator, current graduate student:

     "As 50 nears, my mind drifts to Coleridge, Samuel Taylor. This poem reminds me of Garner State Park...

    To the River Otter

Dear native brook! wild streamlet of the West!    

How many various-fated years have passed,

What happy and mournful hours, since last

I skimmed the smooth thin stone along thy breast,

Numbering its light leaps! Yet so deep impressed

Sink the sweet scenes of childhood, that mine eyes

I never shut amid the sunny ray,

But straight with all their tints thy waters rise,

Thy crossing plank, thy marge with willows grey,

And bedded sand that, veined with various dyes,

Gleamed through thy bright transparence! On my way,

Visions of childhood! oft have ye beguiled

Lone manhood's cares, yet waking fondest sighs:

Ah! that once more I were a careless child!

     Bo Melanson, tongue in cheek as always:  "Thank Gawd...9 months before I can get my AARP. Finally cheap hotel rooms and those Medicaid supplements I have been looking forward to."

     Scott Gray, who entertained us last week by sending out class photos from elementary school: "...I put my 8 tracks and player out to the street about 2 weeks ago. It was tough, but they were taking up space in my garage, and I hadn't played them in years. Boston, Steve Miller Band, and Lynerd Skynerd...I've got them on my I-Pod now...I like the poem, Mark. It will go in my Garner file."

     Patti Stringer-McPeek, "Friends Forever" since 4th grade: "I am enjoying my last 22 days of NOT being 50! I got my AARP stuff in the mail last week. Sent it back unopened and wrote across the envelope "Not old and not retired - YET!"

    Gina Clark-Painter, 2nd grade teacher, eternal teenager: 50...OMG...I am soooooooooo far from that age!!!! I am 36 years old...and I always will be...don't you all think that is a good age????? Hey, I still have all of my Donny Osmond albums...and I still believe he is in love with me!!!"

    Teri Stefka-Lamance, who hasn't aged a day herself in thirty years:  "...As we get older, remember how MARVELOUS EVERYONE looked last year at the reunion. I was amazed that no one changed from high school a bit, they just got better...Happy B-Day to all of the Half of a Century People this year."

    Cindy Karisch-Myers, another friend from the time of single-digit birthdays: "I ended up at Garner this summer. Yes, it has changed. It will never be the same. I got lost leaving the dance - you had to park in a different parking lot... But the memories will always be there. That they can't change!!!

   Byron, parodist extraordinaire, topped it off with this:  "As 50 approaches for me, I have booked reservations on a large barge traveling slowly down Denial. Mark, you are far too literate for this group. And for me. So I have taken the liberty of adapting "To the River Otter"...

(Historical note...the Crosby Stomp was a regular Saturday night dance at the American Legion Hall in Crosby, Texas. We had to take the Lynchburg ferry across the Ship Channel, drive through Highlands and Barrett Station to get there. Note to all parents, children, ministers or former teachers of any of us that might be reading this - this is totally a fictional work - all Byron's imagination! And remember to "compare and contrast" to Coleridge's poem, above, as you read it, as we were all taught!)

     To the Stomp (parody by Byron Tully)

Dear native hall! wild hamlet of the pissed!

How many nefarious-fated beers have passed,

What dazed and missing hours, since last

I skimmed the gravel pavement along my cheek,

Puking my beer in chunks! Yet so weak

Stink the sweet scenes of adolescence, that mine eyes

I never open amid the next morning's sunny ray.

George Strait with all their beers they dance around,

Neon lights and tobacco smoke or dip or chew to spit,

Sawdust floor, scraped with various boots,

God what am I going to tell my parents! Holy shit,

Visions of detentions! oft the result of such a romp

Who really cares, feeling for her thighs;

Ah, next reunion, let's meet at The Stomp!

 

(Mama and Daddy helping me get ready for the Stomp, 1976) 

Yike! Ike! or "Hunker Down, Houston!"

    I owe an apology to the Houston/Galveston area. You see, every year I escape with a group of women to Port Aransas, near Corpus Christi, for a much anticipated, very necessary, retreat from our normal routines. We're scheduled to go next weekend, so when it looked like Hurricane Ike was steering straight for our high-rise condo, we started praying that it would fizzle out...or...perhaps...go somewhere else.

    (You gotta understand...we NEED this weekend!)

   Never underestimate the power of prayer, especially from a handful of desperate, frazzled, multi-tasking women. Ike has turned a bit and is now heading for Houston/Galveston. Our weekend appears safe. Even my sister Brenda, who lives in the new path just outside of Houston, is relieved that Port A is spared.

   But I feel guilty - now I'm worried about everyone in the path, including Brenda, my parents, brother, and many friends. I'll keep praying that Ike just runs out of steam. In the meantime, as Brenda told me she heard on the radio this morning..."Hunker down, Houston!"

You can take the girls out of Houston, but...

     I met some of my fellow Deer Park "expats" for dinner Sunday afternoon in Houston ...well, Houston's Restaurant in Austin. Our excuse this time was to celebrate Donna B.V.'s birthday, which was actually last month, but we don't let little details like that get in the way of our celebrations. Here we are, Donna and Leslie in the back, Darla and me sitting down.

    We share a time and place that link us. I'm not sure what it is about our class of '77, but from talking to other people, I know we have a unique bond. It's not that we live in the past, but our past connects us...it serves as a safety net, much like an extended family.  Our shared past is a springboard for our friendships, rather than holding us in the past.

    We remarked about this over lunch. None of us were close friends during high school; it has been the reunions that have drawn us together: Leslie and I worked on the five-year reunion together; Darla joined us on the tenth; we discovered just before our thirtieth reunion last year that Donna was living in Austin and we immediately pulled her into the vortex. It's been so much fun hearing her memories of high school, but even more so hearing about her life since then (especially the part about being Matthew McConaughey's high school tennis coach! Actually, we just found out about that Sunday.)

    Leslie's great about sending me photos from her I-phone and giving me ideas for my blog (see the one about Craig's List - that was her idea.) We talk about her latest business trips, her boyfriend Clive, and her Siamese kitty, Rod. 

    Darla, the first to make the break from the Houston flatlands to the Austin hills, is the organizer, master chef and hostess, and single mom extraordinaire of two girls. We became mothers at about the same time - her (gorgeous) oldest daughter Kassi and Tommy are just months apart; we have many conjoined memories of them growing up. Her youngest, Madison, is still in elementary school - it makes me tired to think of it!

   Whenever we get together, I'm always struck by two thoughts: I wish I had spent more time with these girls in high school... and...I'm so glad we're friends now. 

   (I can't resist because they're so cute - here's Tommy and Kassi in 1989.)

        

   

If only I had my camera...

     Dropped Kendall off at school this morning...headed back home, driving almost due east...came to the top of a hill and caught my breath. A white mist rose above the hills, looking like a snow-capped mountain.  Just above it, the bottom half of the rising sun hung under a line of gray clouds; it was thinly veiled so that you could look at it straight-on, a perfect half-circle outlined in yellow, glowing softly over the hills and hollows. It was so beautiful. I guess it's a good thing I didn't have my camera - the road curves right there and I would have ended up at the bottom of a hollow, most likely.

    But I think I'll start carrying my camera. There are too many moments like that one that I would like to save and share. Soon, the hollows will be filled with condensed clouds in the morning, like bowls of whipped cream...the hill tops peeking through. With my limited photography skills, I doubt I'll be able to capture the scene, but I'll give it a try.

    All photography tips are welcome!

Keeping them spinning...

Some people talk about multi-tasking as "juggling," and that's a good metaphor, I guess, but I prefer "plate-spinning." Don't ask me why. (What we should be wondering is why we describe our lives and responsibilities in terms of circus acts...)

    Maybe it's the way I handle my tasks - give one a spin then ignore it while I spin another one to get it going again, and so on and so on, praying that I'm quick enough to get back to the first plate before it slows down so much it crashes to the ground. The photo above (of master juggler John Park) is a perfect impersonation of my life right now (metaphorically speaking), down to the cradling of the phone and the expression on his face. However, I rarely wear black vests over white shirts.   

In the Garden of the King

We went to Mexico tonight. Well, not really Mexico, but it would have been easy to pretend we were across the border because we had waiters who spoke no English, delicious salsa, chips, other Mexican-type food and wonderful Margaritas. 

We were actually in a little restaurant in Leander, Texas - El Jardin del Rey - a small house painted bright tropical colors surrounded by live oaks. We sat on a covered porch, swatted at flies, sipped margaritas or Dos Equis (or if you were my husband, diet Coke) finally repaying our friends Joe and Mary Kay for keeping an eye on our house and puppies while we were in Montana this summer.

Life has been busy for all of us lately, and it was fun to sit and chill and get caught up. Their son Ryan graduated from high school last year and is now at UT - his dream. Their older son Graham is our older son Tommy's best friend, so we've been through many adventures together while they grew up. It's fun now to talk about where they are, how far they've come, and reminisce about the path they took, even though it wasn't always fun along the way for us.

    Here's to good friends...for the therapy and support they provide that is so necessary during the "parenting-teenagers" years...

Ode to Girl's State

     Pom-poms, signs, funny hats and pins, cheering, chanting, and crying...these party conventions  remind me why I'm not a card-carrying member of either one.

     In high school I joined over a hundred other girls at Texas Lutheran College for ten days of an intense live-and-breathe lesson in the Texas political process: Girl's State, sponsored by the American Legion Women's Auxiliary (boys go to Boy's State at the University of Texas.) It was a great experience, even though I was a little shy back then, not very ambitious or self-confident, and only aspired to being a council member for my little City 'F'. I even ran unopposed.

    But I met some wonderful girls - we swore we'd be friends forever, but then lost touch after high school graduation. I wonder where they are, what they've done with their lives? There was Vicki Brumley from Anahuac - we met at Galveston a couple of times after returning home. And Laurie Engle from Clear Creek - her dad was an astronaut; rich, pretty, talented, friendly and down to earth - she was one of those girls you want to be jealous of, but just can't; my gynecologist was friends with her little brother (discovered during pap smear chit-chat. It's such a small world!) Then Cindy Reid from Dripping Springs, who was a cheerleader, newspaper editor, plus I don't remember what else, and in training for the Junior Olympics in track. I ran with her every afternoon. I was from a big school and couldn't fathom being involved in so many things. I saw her a few years after high school in Gruene. I was there for the weekend with Tom and a group of guys I worked with (and some wives), eating at the Grist Mill. She was our waitress. She was still in college, still a cheerleader - either Southwest Texas or UT, I can't remember which. I was a drop-out - making good money and a homeowner, but still a drop-out. Seeing her was bittersweet...we lived in different worlds.

     Those ten days in 1976, however, we were all best friends...sitting together at the sessions, eating, passing notes, campaigning for each other, eating, laughing, talking about boyfriends, eating (Texas Lutheran has, or at least HAD, great food!) We all agreed the conventions were, well, a little silly. I was a member of the Red National party (as opposed to the Blue Republican party) and as such, I was expected to cheer and scream and hoot and holler fanatically for our platform and our gubernatorial candidate. But the platforms were almost identical, and to be honest, the Blue party candidate was the best. So, yes, I voted for her. (Annette Lyons - I wonder what she's doing now?) I've been an independent ever since.

    Here we are in the House of Representatives in the State Capitol...Laurie, Vicki, Cindy, and me.

 

Look familiar? The Red Party Convention... Go RED!! 

 

City 'F' - the Founding Fathers...I'm the last one on the right on the top row, Cindy next to me, Laurie and Vicki in the center sitting down.

Capturing the moments

     The clock seems to be spinning like it jumped out of Alice's Wonderland - where did my day go? I still have the screenplay for "Dances With Wolves" to read, an article to write for the local paper, phone calls to make for the youth retreat, and two pages of the opening scene of my screenplay to write...in the correct format. So this post is a return to the calm I felt yesterday morning...

    These mini-daisies just sprang up on the front path - the only ones I've seen around here. I don't know what they are and don't have time to find out, but I took the time to capture their image in case they disappear as quickly as they came...

 

     After our walk, Max plopped down in the middle of the road in front of our house. It's almost impossible to get an unblurred picture of him...what you can't see from this is what a goofball big puppy he really is...

 

Now this is a puppy-dog face - Charly, the old man, such a sweetie.

Morning Glory

     I hate getting up before dawn, but...I love getting up before dawn.

     Frankie roosted on the woodpile last night, perched on a piece that stuck up a few inches, like a mini-branch. I remembered it this morning just as the treetops became visible, so I went to the window to check on him. There he was, already up and pecking at bugs on the sill. Beyond him I saw that the outside world was bathed in a soft blue light; it drew me out the back door onto the deck. A deer started in the clearing below me - I caught a glimpse of him before he turned his white tail to me and disappeared into the trees. It was quiet; the world was yawning, stretching, preparing to kick off the covers and get started on the day.

    I was reminded of sunrises on the Houston Ship Channel - absolutely gorgeous on a clear autumn morning! I remember standing near the cooling tower at the Dupont chemical plant where I worked years ago, clipboard in hand, checking the readings on the pumps, but distracted by the awakening dawn on the horizon.  Vivid purples, pinks, blues, and oranges shoved the night away; the reflection splashed across the still water of the channel. Lights from distant chemical plants sparkled and pelicans glided low along the surface, ready for breakfast. Mornings like that helped me get through the rest of the twelve-hour shift, no matter what else happened.

    It's September. It says so on the calendar, but I can also feel it in the air - a slight crispness, a hint of cool mornings not far away. The sky is even a different shade of blue. It carries me back to those first-week-of-school mornings, trudging the long Meadowlake sidewalk to my elementary school, metal lunchbox in hand. I don't remember what kind I had - that surprises me. It surprises me I don't still have it.   

    The dogs are frisky on our walk this morning; Max prances and pounces on Charly, and Charly puts up with it. They feel the crispness, the promise in the air, too. The wind on my sleeveless arms actually raises goosebumps and "jacket" crosses my mind. But by the time I turn and head back home, the sun has risen higher above the hills and the wind has died down. It's still summer in Texas...but not for long.

More Labor than Rest

     I haven''t spent Labor Day resting, but I have at least been laboring in a different way - cleaning house! The dust bunnies had become the size of tumbleweeds. Something had to be done.

     Tom snuck this picture of me talking to the dogs and Frankie this morning - their breakfast, my coffee time. Frankie already had breakfast - he just likes to keep us company.

    Not the most flattering photo of me, that's for sure - but very true to life!

    What I didn't do today was yardwork...thanks to the rain, my little front yard has really 'greened up' but there are still flowers blooming...I don't have the heart to zap them with the weed-eater. Okay, yeah, I guess I could trim around the flowers. Hmmm...maybe next weekend...I have to get back to work (schoolwork) now.