Long Hollow

Not Just A Simple White Bowl

    It's funny. I pass by the bowl ten times a day, but I didn't realize it had become invisible to me until I wrote the post about scouting the other day.

    I remember where it rested prominently on Hester's headboard-shelf, within easy reach once she was restricted to bed after breaking her hip.

    I remember her telling me about how, when she was a little girl, it sat in the middle of the family breakfast table,and how every morning her whole family took turns reaching into the bowl, pulling out one of the colorful pieces of cardstock stamped with a Bible verse, and reading it aloud. What a wonderful tradition, I thought. She would often ask me to reach in, grab a card, and read her the verse, because she had become too blind to read them herself.

    The day she gave the bowl to me, I was so surprised and honored! She didn't have kids of her own; obviously she had come to think of us as family.  

   For awhile, I tried to carry on the tradition of daily readings with my family, but I soon realized those little pieces of cardstock could no longer take that much handling. They were at least 80 years old by then! I taught the kids to handle them gently, and we still read them, but not as a daily routine.

    I found a vintage handkerchief to drape over the bowl to keep the dust away from the cards, but time is still taking its toll. They are now so dry and brittle that for some of them just the slightest touch can break it in two. 

    I have treasured that bowl, well over 100 years old now, knowing how important it was to her, even if there are days I forget about it, just rush past it, back and forth, from one task to another. Every once in awhile, I slow down enough to see it. I tenderly feel around in the bowl and pull out one or two of the colorful cards, squinting to read the now-faded Bible verses (with my now-fading eyesight), and imagine Hester doing the same, day after day, year after year, until that day she entrusted it with me, entrusted us with her memories. Trusted us to remember her.

The Day After

You know how, when you start a new workout, or add something new to whatever you're already doing, and the next day you can feel it...you can feel those new muscles screaming in pain when you walk up the stairs, bend over, or even sit on the toilet...and even more when you try to stand up again?

But you know it's a good pain...you know you've just torn down the old muscle so you can build it up again, stronger than it was before, right? You knew when you started it you'd be sore - in fact, you hoped you'd be sore, so you knew you were doing something, achieving something, changing something.

That's how it is for me today, the morning after my screenplay was the one under the class spotlight. Microscope. Red ink. Knife. 

Last week I was nervous about my turn getting closer. This week, I could hardly wait.  Not because I thought I'd get a lot of complements or an ego boost. No, I knew better. I knew it would be ripped apart, and I looked forward to it.

I haven't even written anything new in over a week. I've been waiting for this feedback, so I could see what I was doing wrong, what I was doing right, and where I should head with it from here. That's how much I trust my classmates...respect their input and honesty. I know they're going to help me get better.

They didn't disappoint me. There were a few kudos thrown in, but mostly the critiques were blunt and to the point. It was tough to hear sometimes, but I knew it was for my own good. I've watched other classmates defend weak areas in their screenplays, so I bit my tongue when I felt myself preparing to do the same. I didn't want anyone to hold back!

If they had been softer on me, I would have been worried - it would mean they didn't take me seriously as a writer, or that they didn't have any hope of it being improved upon. Instead, I got specific, sometimes brutal, advice. And it felt GOOD!

Not everyone agreed - some of the conflicting advice I received I'll have to weigh out and decide for myself what works the best. But just having this chance to brainstorm on my script with people who know what they're talking about (yet who obviously still sometimes struggle with writing a script themselves or they wouldn't be in this class)...it's just an amazing experience. 

 Now...I need to get back to work.

On My Honor...

    The drop was made in a pull-off area of the highway. I pulled up next to the white SUV, slid open the side door of the van and handed over the shoebox and white file box containing twenty years of history. Next, I dug around in my purse for the checkbook and two envelopes of checks, gave them to Kevin, and that was it: BS Troop 198 had a new treasurer. A very anti-climatic ending to an exciting trip that started eighteen years ago, when Tommy told me he wanted to join Cub Scouts. I took him to the informational meeting, but didn't volunteer for anything that first night. I wanted to wait and see if Tommy was serious about it before I committed myself.

    Eventually, I volunteered for publicity. (It gave me a purpose for all of my photos!) Then Tom and I volunteered to be in charge of organizing work committees for Hester's house. Hester Alfred was a legally blind ninety-something-year-old woman that lived by herself on an acre of land. She had finally given up taking care of her lawn herself; our pack volunteered to do the job for her. She was very particular about her yard, and would stand at her window with binoculars to make sure we did it right.

    When we had trouble starting her old riding lawn mower, she would climb on, fiddle with the choke, and start it up for us, giggling at our ineptitude. She fell in love with Tom, and even after we moved to Lago Vista, he would go back to check on her, mow her yard, fix a water leak, or whatever work needed to be done, until she died, just a year or so later.

    We helped start a brand new Cub Scout pack in Lago Vista. I wore many hats over the years, most at the same time - Tiger den mother, then assistant leader of Daniel's den all the way through; publicity; assistant Cubmaster; and advancement. Tom was Tommy's den leader for two years, and became Scoutmaster when he moved up into the Boy Scout troop. When Daniel followed Tommy, I was talked into the treasurer job.

    Giving up the checkbook made me nostalgic. This weekend I glanced through the albums I compiled for Tommy and Daniel for their Eagle ceremonies - photos from Tiger cubs on up triggering so many good memories:  pushcar races; pinewood derbies (even Kendall raced a car every year); skits, games, and cheers at pack meetings;campouts; parades; Eagle projects and ceremonies of my boys and their friends...

    I'm grateful I had a chance to do my part and share so many memories with them, but I'm actually relieved to be turning over the treasurer job. It's time. I'm just glad there are still boys who are serious about it and parents who recognize what a great experience scouting is for their sons, parents willing to commit the time to keep the troop alive.

    It's not really our troop anymore. Our troop still exists, but it's in college, or already graduated and working, scattered out across the country. And of course, frozen in time in my photo albums, images of so many rowdy little boys growing into amazing young men.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Just Catching Up on the Porch

 

 

 

 

The Boys Are Back - A Weekend of Cars, Guns, and Movies

    It's been a long time since I smelled that smell - "new car." The first thing I did was climb into the passenger seat of Tommy's new Hyundai Elantra and breathe in deeply. 

    I'm so happy for him - up until now he's only driven used cars...dented, peeling paint, rattling, often no air-conditioning or radio. He never complained, even in high school  when the parking lot was dotted with Hummers and brand new sports cars. We had a tough time even now talking him into getting a new one. He took his time, researched his options, and I know it was still hard for him to justify spending that much money. A car is just a car, after all.

    But I feel better knowing he's in a new car when he's stuck in Dallas traffic, or heading up to Lubbock to see Kirby, to Houston to his grandparents, or here to see us.

    (Daniel came home this weekend, too, so he could see Tommy. We had fun catching up on movies, and shooting the rifle and shotgun in the clearing across the pond in our junk yard/fire pit/basketball court/gun range clearing.  I didn't realize what a kick that shotgun had, though. It hurt my shoulder! By the way, the trashy blue car is one that was totaled twice but Tom thinks would make a good dune buggy/go-cart - project #3,327! And the horizontal metal structure is a vintage Texas windmill we plan to reconstruct...some day. )

 

 

 

 

 

Miracles and Elusive Minutes

    I had big plans for yesterday morning - things to catch up on, maybe even get ahead. I certainly got up early enough, but before I knew it, it was time to leave for work, and nothing I had planned to do was done! 

    Does anyone else ever get the feeling that someone is playing tricks on them by moving the hands on the clocks up a couple of hours? 

    Granted, I took time to snap some pictures of the buds on the fruit tree outside the middle school, and of the critters on our walk, and some new yellow blooms on an ugly-as-sin bush near the curve, and a couple of yellow flowers hiding under the winter grass, but still...it was a beautiful day (and today is,too) and I think on days like this you have to slow down a little to focus on and appreciate the little details.

    Today, I'm especially appreciating the fact that my sister's angels surrounded her yesterday when a dumptruck broadsided her little car. Every day you read of people being killed in accidents like that, yet she was able to crawl out the passenger door, and tests today confirmed there's nothing broken, just a lot (a LOT) of sore muscles.

    And I'm appreciating the fact that I had another day with my old puppy Charly...we're down to the "taking it a day at a time" time with him. But today, he ate with gusto and ran ahead of Max into the woods on our walk this morning (granted, Max was walking, but STILL...Charly RAN!)

    Right now I'm catching my breath (and savoring another cup of coffee) before I get swept up in the weekend - I'll be off in a minute to the grocery store to stock up for a full house: both Tommy and Daniel will be here tonight. Tom and Tommy are heading out bright and early to buy Tommy a car. Tonight I'm looking forward to hanging out with them, probably watching a funny (silly) movie. Tomorrow, I'll be filling out FAFSA forms, keeping my fingers crossed that Kendall's and Daniel's financial aid packages include more scholarships and grants than loans.

    Here are yesterday's distractions...Spring is around the corner, for sure!

 

 

 

 

 

 

Thinking About Gems

    Several years ago, I lost the diamond out of my grandmother's ring. At night. In my dirty van.

    When I realized it was missing, I started praying, grabbed a flashlight, and started examining every bit of debris I came across buried in that nappy carpet. One piece glistened brighter than the others. I found the diamond in just a few minutes (and if you could have seen the floor of that van, with sand tracked in by the kids amid pieces of old french fries...you get the idea...well, you'd know what a miracle that was!)

    A few years ago, I rediscovered another gem - my friend Donna, who celebrated her 50th birthday in Vegas yesterday. She's like my grandmother's diamond in that she's translucent and beautiful, inside and out. She doesn't try to hide anything - if you ask her anything, she'll answer bluntly and honestly (and usually make you laugh.) She just doesn't broadcast her problems, even though she's had her share. Instead, she shows concern and interest in everyone else around her. 

    For a long time, Donna was in my life. And then, somewhere in our 20's, we drifted apart. Just lost track of each other. I kept up with her through the grapevine, but didn't see her for years, until all of us made an extra effort to get back in touch recently.

    Digging through old pictures, I realize how much sparkle she added to my life when we were younger, how much we shared, and I regret the years I "lost" her. Our friendship now certainly has its roots in those younger days, but the friendship itself is between the women we are now, which encompasses the girls we were then, but is so, SO much more.

    Just as God answered my prayers when I was searching for Mam-ma's diamond, I'm sure having Donna sparkling in my life again is an answer to another prayer. God knows what we need, doesn't he?

Here are some memories we share: at a slumber party at Debbie's house, in her very cool bedroom with black 'velvet' walls and round bed - we're (well, I'm taking the picture) eating vanilla Pillsbury Icing out of the can (long story): Lea, Tamara, Donna, Teason, Debra, Debbie, and Denise, about 8th grade; at a slumber party at Tamara's...9th grade...Donna, Denise, and I forming the base of the pyramid, Tamara and Debbie next, and Jan with her head cut off on top (sorry, Jan!); again at Tamara's, Donna (smear-ee) and Debbie (smear-er) - just shaving cream, I think; my bedroom, 10th grade - back to front, left to right, Donna, me, Ann L., and Debra; New Year's Eve party 1980 to 81, Donna, Tamara, Kathy; Debbie's bachelorette party evening, 1981, Donna and her firstborn, and me and Donna; at our high school 5 year reunion, Donna and my hubby, Tom; this past Sunday at La Margarita celebrating Donna's 50th birthday, me, Donna, Darla, and Donna BV.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

If you need to smile, try playing the drums or taking a five-hour lunch with friends...

Scenes from this weekend...

Friday night friends Bob, Lisa, their son Justin and his girlfriend Patty came over for smoked pork loin, chicken, and sausage, trips back through time via old wedding photos (ours - Bob and Lisa were both in the wedding), and turns playing my drums. I have a feeling Craig's List will be scoured for drum sets this week.

Saturday...Saturday? It just drifted by...playing catch-up on Lost, exercise, and screenplays. I watched the beginning of "Cold Mountain" and then read the screenplay. Managed to add a page or two to mine - I've already tweaked the beginning again...if I ever get past the beginning, I might actually write a whole screenplay!

Sunday...right after church I zoomed to La Margarita, met Darla, Donna BV and Donna CH to celebrate Donna CH's birthday - it's not really until Wednesday, but she's sneaking off this week to Las Vegas for a "quiet" celebration with her daughter and sister. We ended up staying there talking for FIVE HOURS! I still had to go shopping after that - I was totally wiped out by the time I got home, and even though I accomplished nothing else that day, it was worth it.

 

 
 

 

And Just Like That...

    An email from my friend Nancy this morning reminded me how quickly our lives can change....she's a teacher in a tiny 1A district southeast of San Antonio. One of her students was killed in a car accident last night. Her daughter came upon the scene in another car just minutes later.

    She had just been telling me last week or so about this kid she had in four of her classes, including journalism and art, about how he had so many ideas and, well, this is how she put it in her email today..."Joey could drive me to distraction, and inspire me to try things I never thought possible. His enthusiasm was contagious. Just ask our superintendent. Every time Joey discovered the amazing possibilities of a new technology, he had me so excited that we were running to her begging for funds, so Joey could work his magic. That's how I have come to have a Mac in my classroom. It is loaded with the latest of everything. Just recently he came into my room nearly bursting at the seams. His latest computer searches led him to Podcasts that gave step by step instructions on how to do just about anything with Adobe Photoshop....He was so impressed by this technology that he convinced me we needed to have the latest version of Adobe...our superintendent can expect a visit from me soon. If Joey said we need it, then by golly I'm going to get it..."

     Nancy says, "When I started teaching, they told me it only takes one student to make it all worthwhile. Well, I guess I'm blessed, because countless students have touched my heart. But Joey will always have a special place. I will never, ever, sit down at a computer, watch a video, or look at a yearbook without thinking of him."

    Years ago my husband Tom was nearly killed in an accident on his way to work. That one brief moment changed our lives. He still has aches every day from his injuries, and the near-invisible scar running down the center of his face reminds me that, just like that, I could have lost him. 

    I spent the hours at his bedside in the hospital taking notes, keeping a journal...writing is therapeutic for me. Afterwards, I put it all into an essay that the Houston Chronicle published.

    Last night some friends came over for dinner. We started talking about the accident, and Tom brought out the pictures to show their son and his girlfriend, and I was reminded once again, very vividly, how grateful I need to be.

    In honor of Valentine's Day, I've added the essay to my blog (click here). I'm also including pictures of his car, and him, bruised and battered, in the hospital just days afterward. There's one other picture that really drives home how lucky he is to be alive - his face before surgery, taken by the plastic surgeon. It takes a few minutes of scrutiny to see it's even a face - that's how bad it is. Don't worry, I didn't include it. 

 

 

  

  

 

He Remembers

    The puppy was weak and scared - it takes a while to recover if you go two weeks without eating, and I didn't even want to imagine what he had encountered in his young life to make him so scared of venturing away from the house to the road.

    But Charly was counting on our walk.

    "C'mon, puppy, it'll be okay. I'll walk slow. I won't let anything happen." 

     He followed us along the road, very slowly, stopping every so often to rest. I waited with him, talked to him, explained our routines to him while Charly ventured off into the woods exploring, checking out his territory.

    We did this every morning. Slowly he got stronger and braver, until he looked forward to the walks more than Charly, pouncing and playing with him, and sometimes dashing off alone into the woods after a rabbit or deer.

    This morning, I was walking along, enjoying the mild weather, lost in my thoughts, when I realized I was all alone. The dogs had abandoned me, and Frankie, who I can usually count on to stick with me, had decided not to go on the walk today.

    I almost turned around - what was the point?  Oh, yeah...I skipped my run this morning, and since I had at least five hours of computer time ahead of me, I figured I better get SOME exercise and go all the way to the curve, even if everyone else had pooped out.

    I hit the curve, turned around, and was halfway home when I came around a bend and saw Max down the road, sitting on his haunches facing me...this huge black dog sitting in the middle of the road, waiting. Charly was already turning around at the sight of me, and starting back toward the house. Frankie was skittering up to where Max sat - I guess he had changed his mind about the walk. They both waited until I was almost on them before turning around and heading home with me.

    He was waiting for me, just like I waited for him.

    "Thank you, Max. And Frankie."

P.S. Happy Birthday, Kimmy

    One of the best things about my boys being in scouts was meeting and hanging out with the other parents - really a bunch of awesome, interesting, fun people who ended up being some of our best friends. 

   It was through our boys and scouts that I became friends with Kim, one of my "Jersey girls". The boys got older and out of scouts, but our friendship stayed put.  Movies, dinners, weekly card games, and yearly treks to Port Aransas replaced meetings, parades, and camping trips.

    She has always been there when I needed her, offering support and sympathy, always quick with advice and a joke, and generous with her time (and with her stuff - she loaned me a great dress for my 30th high school reunion! And then later, she gave it to me!!)  She'll play the Goldie Hawn card every now and then, but don't let it fool you - this girl is smart and deep.

    Lago became a little lonelier last year when she moved to the other side of the lake. I miss our weekly card games, and our talks on the beach in Port Aransas this year. We've gotten together a few times for a movie, or a bite at the mall, or to hear Linton Mancilla (another scouting friendship), but it hasn't been nearly often enough. I miss her!

    I didn't forget her birthday this past Tuesday, but since I didn't get to see her, I thought I'd dedicate this post to her.

(here are some pictures that don't do her justice, but bring back great memories...a Cub Scout meeting in 1996 - she's the blonde with runner's legs...swinging with one of her twins at the Rock House at Tom's 40th birthday party in 1997...applying Henna tattoos in Port Aransas in 2006...and the group of us in our traditional pose in 2007)

   

 

Is Longhollow in Narnia or Oz?

    According to our friend's GPS program, our house doesn't exist. No matter how he typed in our address..."Adrian Way", "Adrian Boulevard"...it said there was no such place. I knew we lived in a beautiful place...even magical at times...but I guarantee it's not Narnia or Oz. Our mail gets delivered, for goodness sakes. Granted, it's put in a mailbox a mile from our house, but it's to our address. I wonder why Bob's GPS (and also Netflix, by the way) thinks it doesn't exist?

    No big deal. I just gave Netflix my friend's address and picked our movies up there. And I told Bob he could call for directions on Friday before they head over here. Sometimes the old-fashioned ways still work. 

    Highlights of this week...

    One of my favorite shows is CBS Sunday Morning. If you've never watched it, you should. The stories are always well-done and interesting, but this past Sunday was really good. I'm always getting ready for church while it's on and get bits and pieces, but I had to pull up the kitchen stool and sit still for a few minute while watching a couple of them this week. One was about Abraham Lincoln- there's a new book out about the REAL Abraham Lincoln, his evolution from racist to the President we're all familiar with.

    The other story was about books, one of my favorite subjects.  Specifically, about bibliophiles...people like me who collect more books than they can read in a lifetime, just because. I've included it here...if you're a bibliophile, too, you'll enjoy it...

Watch CBS Videos Online

    Monday was a dream...a day of solitude, reserved for research and writing. Except for a little Facebook time in the morning (lots of good writing wishes from friends), a couple of emails, and one phone call, I was very disciplined and used my time wisely. I have finally twisted my mind around the story, understand my character and have a concrete idea of how to proceed with my screenplay. What a relief!

    Tuesday...Kendall needed a blouse for a Woman's Club luncheon tomorrow (scholarship opportunity), so we headed out shopping. I took a book to read while she shopped, determined to maintain my discipline and 'using time wisely' momentum, but, alas, Macy's had their knee-high boots on clearance...the very ones I've been wanting for several years but refused to pay full price for or make a special trip to the mall for when they were previously on sale.  I decided I could live with the guilt, and so, despite my proclamation of tightening the belt, they're sitting in my closet right now. I love them.

    Also Tuesday (last night)...Tommy called. A line of severe thunderstorms had passed over his house - the tornado siren went off, and thank God he did what he was supposed to do - hid in a closet under the stairs. This is my son who used to drive to a nearby hill during thunderstorms because he loves to watch lightning flashing all over the sky...also the one who, several years ago during a tornado warning, kept saying "I want to see a tornado! I want to see a tornado!" and so sure enough, while we're stuck in traffic with the storm passing over us, we see a tornado off to our left sucking up bits of houses from a neighborhood, then pass through a debris-littered intersection near a demolished grocery store, and once home, on the television see several square miles in a small town near us, Jarrell, that have been totally wiped out, scraped clean. So you can see why I was relieved he had the sense to get in the closet this time. They do grow up, don't they?

Walking in the Rain and Dust Art

    I woke to the sound of rain outside my window this morning and it's falling outside the window beside me now. It stopped long enough to start a walk with my fellas (Max, Charly, and Frankie) but started back up again before we got back home. But they didn't seem to mind it and I had an umbrella, so it was a nice change. It's a soft, soaking rain - just the kind we need right now to soothe the thirsty ground and trees and wash the dust off of everything...including my van.

    The good news is it's supposed to rain off and on for three whole days! Not enough to raise the lake or fill our pond, but enough to wash the pollen out of the air for awhile, thank goodness.

    The sun will be back out in a few days, drying out the caliche, and my van window will be covered in dust again. But now I'll see the dust in a whole new way - my friend Cliff sent me an email this morning about a dust artist just down the road from me in San Marcos. He uses his dusty window as a palette, creating works of art for everyone behind him on the highway to see. To see his amazing creations, go to his website (you can also read articles about him here and here.)

Married to an Angel

    Tom spent this past Thursday evening in the emergency room. He was fine, but a friend of his fell on some steps leaving their office building and landed headfirst- Tom said it sounded like a bowling ball hitting the concrete. The miracle of it all is the friend suffered no damage - they ran all kinds of tests and he passed with flying colors.

    That night, Tom came home laden with gifts from this friend and his wife - Christmas gifts they just hadn't given him yet...a case of Shiner (the assorted pack), a 'half-yard of ale' flask, and a very generous gift card to Truluck's for both of us. The note inside mentioned how much they appreciated all that Tom does for them..."if anyone thinks there is no such thing as angels on the earth, they just haven't met anyone like y'all." They go on to thank me for being so willing to share my hubby with them.

    Tom has helped them with a few things - working on cars, helping build a TV room in their new house - but the fact is, this couple has helped US numerous times! They (and sometimes their two daughters) spent numerous hours over here, sanding stripped cedar trees to be used as posts, putting together our kitchen cabinets, helping with flooring, and summer before last, helping with the downstairs back patio. I can honestly say we couldn't have built this house without their help. On top of it all, Tom's friend has a degenerative neuro-muscular disease, so activities we take for granted are getting more and more difficult for him. Like walking. Yet, Tom says he never complains. As Tom puts it, "he just sits and listens to me complain."

    And the other fact is, Tom loves helping people. There have been times in our marriage when this kind of got on my nerves...times when there were things he needed to do for US, but instead, he was off helping someone else. It's tough being married to a saint sometimes!

    Over time, though, I've come to realize how much this means to him. It makes him happy - the more he can do for someone else that really needs help, the happier he is! I love him, I want him to be happy, so it doesn't bother me anymore. Besides, he has always managed to take care of what we needed, too, plus some (I'm sure we don't show our appreciation as much as other people do!) And the times we've needed help ourselves, it was easy to find...everyone wants to repay him!

    Honestly, I haven't really done anything to deserve the kudos this couple expressed - all I did was 'let' him help them (not that he would ask my permission!) But I admit this gift card is truly a timely blessing for me. With the recent shift in the economy, looming bills, and mounting debt in front of us, it was quickly becoming clear we couldn't afford to do much of anything special or different to mark my upcoming 50th birthday.  Since my 40th kind of came and went quietly, I was hoping for something a little more memorable...for me, this gift card is a little ray of sunshine...an assurance of a memorable celebration to help me into the next half-century.  (And for Tom, I'm sure it's a relief!)

Feeling Lost, Playing Catch-Up

    Waking up to silence and soft sunshine, just the ticking of a clock, a bird singing outside the window, instead of the buzzing of an alarm clock slicing through a dream, waking me to a bedroom still cloaked with night...that's why I love Saturday mornings like this...the ones when I have nothing planned but trying to catch up on...EVERYTHING.

    That's the glitch...it's impossible to start a day off slow and relaxing like I have...sleeping-in, sipping coffee on the deck with the critters, making muffins, heading off to Istanbul with Rick Steves (a fascinating place - I want to go there some day for real. Rick Steves has the best job!)...and expect to get much of anything else done. Or at least more than one of those things that have been snowballing on a list for awhile, like cleaning house, income tax, and FAFSA (see, I'm not even mentioning screenplays.)

    Last night I was full of energy, though, for some reason. On a roll. I completed several loads of laundry, cleaned off my desk and paid bills, and even got caught up on the last two Lost episodes. (The problem with having to wait two weeks to watch them, though, is there is so much going on - everything is changing, from time to relationships, that I started off feeling lost. I don't expect to have all of my questions answered, though, so I still enjoy the perpetual mystery of it all.)

    As with all weeks lately, this was a week of sorrow and celebrations. It seemed like every day I heard of the sudden deaths of people I, or someone I knew, was somehow connected to, both friends and family. It was a little...overwhelming. Not exactly the right word, but I can't think of another way to describe it. There was Marla. Also, my mother heard of the death of her childhood best friend...two men my dad used to work with were killed in a plane crash...a man at our church died...and two distant cousins.

    One of the cousins was a young man named Kenneth Curb. He didn't live far from me, was just a little bit younger than me, and yet I'm not sure if I ever met him. Perhaps at one of the family reunions, but there were so many unfamiliar faces there every year, it was hard to keep up with them. This morning his aunt sent me an article that was written about him; after reading it, I'm proud to say I was related to him, even a teeny bit (through the great-great grandfather I'm writing about), and I regret that I didn't know him. He was one of those guys that really uses the time he's given on this earth - he accomplished a lot in his 44 years. The good thing is his community had a chance to recognize it and honor him a couple of years ago. You can read the article here.

    Another person that inspires me, that I DO know (but don't get to see often enough) is my friend Cheryl, who celebrated a birthday yesterday. She is truly one-of-a kind...she's hard to describe because she has so many different sides to her. She is "What you see is what you get!" - down to earth, honest, upfront, outspoken. She is a gifted artist. She is brave, persistent, resilient, determined, bold and brazen, tough as nails when she has to be, but also one of the most sensitive, caring, affectionate women I've ever met. She is a hugger, a smoocher, a faith-filled ageless native-Austinite Earth Mother with the trust and innocence of a child. 

    She also has had the worst luck of any person I know (and that's saying a lot!) but never lets anything keep her down long - she stays positive, prays constantly, maintains the faith of a saint, and always remembers to "Praise God" when things work out. 

    I miss her - up until a couple of years ago, we got together almost every week with the other Lago women, but life has gotten in the way lately...everyone has scattered farther, gotten busy on different time schedules. I miss them all, but I'm trying to have Cheryl's faith that life will settle down a bit and we'll all eventually be able to spend time together again.

    In the meantime, my birthday hug will have to wait and my wishes merely travel via email, phone, and blog.  Happy Birthday, Cheryl!!

(here are pictures from her birthday celebration last year and our annual trip to Port Aransas)

 

 

 

With Classmates Like These...

...my screenplay will either withstand the ripping critiques and emerge an award-winner, or crawl away to the 'to-be-shredded' basket. The few pages I submitted are still way down the line on the reading list, but as they get closer and closer to the front, I'm getting a feeling similar to what it might feel like in front of a firing squad. I'll have to remember to wear a really thick skin when my turn comes and keep in mind that the criticism I receive will just make my screenplay better. But I'm tellin' ya, there is no mercy in that room. I found myself squirming last night, and it wasn't even my screenplay under the microscope.

At least the comments and critiques are coming from some voices of experience (there's CC Stinson, Amory Casto, and Tom Booker to name a few - I googled them because...well, I'm just really nosy!)  I realize more and more how lucky I am to be in this class - like a screenwriting gold mine! (see a short starring Amory here and more Tom below - see if you remember any of these commercials...)

Living

    "The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing, and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares." (Henri Nouwen)    

    I wanted to go to a funeral today. I wanted to be there for my friend, to comfort her and to honor her sister's life. But I couldn't - I had to work - we need the money and my boss needed my help - and the amount of driving I would need to do on the little amount of sleep I've been getting would have been irresponsible. Another friend went for those of us who couldn't be there, made sure Tamara knew the hug was from all of us...but I still wish I had gone.

    Some people think there's no point to funerals. Some believe their presence doesn't make a difference. I don't LIKE funerals, but in those times when I've lost someone I love, the funeral has helped me face my loss, dust off my memories, and say goodbye. And seeing a friend silently sitting nearby has always helped me get through it. In my mind, and in my heart, I can still picture Tamara and some other friends where they sat at my brother Buster's funeral. They didn't know him. They were there for me.

    Funerals also honor, even celebrate, the lives that have passed from this earth and remind us that each of us still has a life to live, a job to do, a chance to be who ever it is we are supposed to be. A chance to love each other, which includes comforting those who have lost someone.

    They also remind us that one more day might be all we have on this earth (maybe that's why some people don't like them.) 

    Years ago at my Grandfather's funeral, I sat by my weeping Grandmother. They had married as teenagers...worked, lived, laughed, and cried together for decades. In my Christian zeal and youthful ignorance, I almost chastised her for her tears..."Isn't he in heaven now? Shouldn't you be happy?"

    It has taken me years of love and loss to understand the source of her tears. She was going to miss him - his voice, his touch, his laugh, his smell (to me, he is cherry tobacco.) She wished for more time. Now. It doesn't matter how old they were - I'm sure they had plans for the next week, month, summer.

    I think my friends and I are too young to be losing our parents, much less our brothers and sisters..or each other. Of course, we're not too young - it just feels like we are, because you can never be ready for it.

    We can just "do now, do now, what you will wish to have done when your moment comes to die." 

    So I continue to pray, worship, love, dance, cry and laugh. I will write, practice my drums, and work on my degree, God willing, but if my time comes before I'm published or can play "Stranglehold" or get my diploma, I won't feel like a failure...unless I quit trying.

    "I could not, at any age, be content to take my place by the fireside and simply look on. Life was meant to be lived. Curiosity must be kept alive. One must never, for whatever reason turn [one's] back on life." (Eleanor Roosevelt)

A Week of Surprises, Struggles, Celebration, Sorrow

    This has been one of those odd weeks that has zoomed by and yet simultaneously seemed to last forever. Weather-wise, it started with fog, which made way for ice, but ultimately the sunshine won out.

    Emotion-wise, it's been a week of highs and lows as well.

    At the end of the week, like a glowing beacon, a mini-high school reunion loomed. A bunch of us planned to meet at a club in Pasadena to listen to one of our 'old' classmates play his guitar and sing with his band (Mission Texas Live.)  E-mails and Facebook messages were flying back and forth all week.

    But...my screenwriting project hung over my head...I'm still having trouble wrapping my head around the best way to tell my great-great grandfather's story. How do you fit a man's life from age 17 to 80 into three neat acts across 120 pages (at the most) - a life that included crossing the Red River into Texas with a wagon train, a life full of conflict including settler vs. native Americans; cowboy vs. horse thieves; Confederate vs. Yankee; life and love vs. death; husband vs. wife; neighbor vs. neighbor; and freedom vs. prison? Where do I begin? Where do I end? What do I include and what do I leave out? I managed to send 20 pages to my teacher at about 2am Saturday morning, but they are pages I wrote last semester - a beginning I've changed my mind about. But it's something, anyway.

    I couldn't let that stop me from seeing my cousins Sherlyn and Muttsy (her name is actually Lugenia, but I've never known her by anything but Muttsy). They drove in from their small town near Abilene to watch Sherlyn's daughter Kenzie's basketball game. She plays for Hardin-Simmons University and they were playing Concordia, which is just around the corner...well, the lake...from us. Yes, I had pages to write, but they're my cousins and they came all this way! And I'm glad I did it...it was a close game and Hardin-Simmons won!

    And there was Tom's truck...it decided it was tired of its needs being ignored and demanded immediate attention Wednesday morning - he had to take off work and tear the steering column apart... and THEN, after several hours of aggravation, when it was in a million pieces, he read online (trying to find information on how to put it back together because the expensive mechanic's manual he bought for it was of NO value) that mechanics usually only charge $100 to fix this particular problem. Live and learn...

    On Friday I learned that my friend Tamara's older sister was in intensive care, from a stroke or aneurysm, and not expected to live. It turns out Marla passed away about the same time I was emailing my pages Saturday morning.  I was still excited about seeing all of my friends - in fact, Marla's death made a reunion with friends seem more important, more urgent. 

    One reason, I guess, is because I had been hoping for a reunion with Marla herself this year - it's the 10th anniversary of our first girls' weekend to Port Aransas...we planned to make sure everyone that had ever gone with us joined us again, and Marla and Tamara were part of that first group.

    But my first trip with Marla was back in high school. All of two, maybe three years older than us, she chaperoned me and Tamara on a trip to Garner State Park at the end of our junior year - our boyfriends had just graduated and their class was heading there to celebrate. (I'm not going to write anymore about this, except to say we had a LOT of fun, and made it back home, safe and sound.)

    The reunion this past Saturday night was a lot of fun, just as I expected. The sorrow I felt about Marla's death didn't diminish my joy at seeing my friends - the sorrow and joy merely entwined each other - existing together, perhaps even augmenting each other by contrast.

    Besides my high school friends, Tom and I reunited with another 'old' friend, David...the best man at our wedding. He had been in the Coast Guard with Tom and they were roommates when we met. For a brief time, we were ALL roommates. But once we moved to Lago Vista, we rarely saw him. In fact, I think it had been over ten years. Ann, one of my matrons of honor (the other was my sister, Brenda) surprised us by flying in from Missouri - so we got a picture of all of us together, 26 years, some gray hairs and a few wrinkles later.

    All of us laughed till we cried, talked, danced, sang, and took tons of pictures (well, my friend Rae did...I forgot to charge my camera...) Several of us shut the place down, and still unwilling to say goodnight, we reverted to high school habits and wrapped a house for old times' sake. Not just anyone's, of course, but one of the guys...one of our friends. He caught us, but was a great sport and let us finish and even take pictures. Now, THAT'S friendship.

    And if that's not enough for one week, an email waited for me when I got home from another person I haven't seen since we moved...Jennifer King Moody. I was in a writing workshop she taught - she helped me with my second essay. But I already knew of her from a wonderful essay she wrote that was published in the Houston Chronicle before I ever started writing..."Bury Me in the Country." It's still one of my favorites...probably the one that inspired me to try writing my own. She had been digging through some old files and came across my name, and on a whim, Googled me. I'm so glad she did!

    That was plenty for one week. I'm hoping this one levels out, slows down, gives me a chance to catch my breath. But judging from today, I don't think it's going to happen...I'll just try to hold on and enjoy, well, at least appreciate, the ride.