Long Hollow

Texas, 1850 to 1920...

 

...give or take a few years. That's where I'll be the next two weeks, if anyone is looking for me. My screenplay deadline is growing large...and hairy...with fangs dripping blood...and huge sharp claws...and...okay, that's enough. But it is starting to resemble a gigantic monster that can only be appeased by (many) more pages of screenplay than I have written, and if I don't produce them by Wednesday, May 13, I fear I will be eaten up.

    So I have no choice but to dive head-first into my great-great grandfather's world, only coming up for emergencies like writing overdue thank-you notes, work and paying bills, TG's soccer games, and a friend's 50th birthday party (give me a break - those are important, too!) Maybe a blog or two, for therapy, or a glance at Facebook and emails, just to check on folks.

    But I will try not to stress out about the ticking clock, dwindling groceries, dirty house, overflowing laundry, flat tires (that was my Monday this week), issues with friends, family, kids, or animals. Please excuse me for being selfish.

Now, here I go! Wish me luck!

The Thing About Growing Up

    Back in 9th grade, before driver's licenses and promise rings, Larry and I went steady. He wrapped my house and wrote me notes, gave me a corsage and escorted me onto the football field at halftime as part of the Homecoming Court, sat in the backseat with me while his brother's friend shuttled us to dinner afterwards at the Monument Inn, and obligingly attended my Sunday School teacher's Christian rock concerts (the Hope of Glory - they were awesome!)

  

 

    About two months later - maybe three - we broke up.

    Years passed. And more years. We shared grief at a friend's passing. Chatted at our sons' preschool holiday parties. Sent Christmas cards. Then stopped. Years passed.

    There was an email...an afternoon spent watching a one-act play and visiting outside on a bench...a high school reunion...gatherings of friends...more emails...

    And what do you know? A tiny seed planted so long ago, overlooked and ignored for years, has blossomed into a friendship that I treasure, and that will not ever be overlooked or ignored again.

Happy 50th Birthday, Larry, dear friend! You are truly a blessing in my life!

Slippery Saturdays and the Round Rock Express

    I spent most of Saturday thinking I had a good grip on the day...up early, coffee with the dogs, a good work-out, several episodes of Rick Steves trekking all over Europe -it's public television fundraising time- including the corner of Spain and Southern France that Kendall visited in person last month, even some writing...all before mid-afternoon. But it was just a fraction of what I had intended to accomplish, and the next thing I knew, the clock had spun around to late afternoon and my motivation had slipped out the back door.

    But that was okay because my friend Leslie gave us a perfect excuse to shut down early - she invited us to meet her and Clive for a margarita and then go root for the Round Rock Express. Her call was timely...by weird coincidence I had just lamented to my friend Bo that I'd never been to the Dell Diamond. I HAVE been to a Minor League baseball game, but I traveled all the way up to Great Falls, Montana this past summer for that. (It wasn't actually the reason we went to Great Falls, but it was still a lot of fun!)

    Unfortunately, both times the team I was rooting for lost. But I still love watching minor league games - there's such a cozy, small-town feeling infusing the stadiums. I grew up watching the Houston Astros, usually sitting high above the players, insulated from the game and even nature, thanks to the high arch of the Astrodome's ceiling. Sitting under the open sky took me back in time to high school baseball games. And even though the Express lost, we won in regards to weather - enough cloud cover to keep us from baking, just a sprinkling of rain, and no mosquitoes.

    I'll be back.

 

 

 

 

 

Snacktime in the Country

    "Hey Barb - come here! Quick!! Hurry!!"

    I dropped what I was doing and rushed into the bedroom, but figured Tom was just calling me to watch some poor squirrel try to maneuver around the "squirrel-proofing" he had rigged up on the birdfeeder outside the window. He had been keeping a close watch to see if it worked.

    Instead, my glance outside was rewarded by an explosion of color nibbling on seed at the feeder. A male Painted Bunting had stopped for a snack in our front yard - lucky us! He was absolutely gorgeous, and was gracious enough to stick around long enough for me to connect my zoom lens to my camera and sneak out the front door for a few photographs.

    I also snapped a few of a squirrel enjoying the corn I put out for him. My dad made the squirrel feeder a few years ago, but I admit I had gotten negligent about replacing the empty cobs. After our experience with Sammy, I'm replacing it every day again, in his memory and honor (especially since Tom is successfully keeping his family off of the bird feeder!)

 

 

Oh, Brother...

   

I was around three, my brother Donnie eight, when I spotted the mysterious box on the edge of our driveway. I can picture Donnie approaching it, picture his shocked face, hear him scream "Run!" as the snakes, dozens and dozens of them, poured out of the box, slithering down the sides and along the ground after us. We ran toward the backyard and Donnie shoved me up and over the chain link fence to safety before trying to save himself. I looked back and the snakes were within inches of his bare feet.

That's when I woke up.

It's amazing to me how vividly I can remember this nightmare (I won't go into all of the things I can't remember!) Even though nothing like this ever really happened (thank God!), one aspect of it is true: my brother Donnie's self-sacrificing actions...his heroic nature. I already sensed it when I was three.

 Not that he was necessarily a doting brother. Most of the time he was yelling at me to quit following him around. Quit copying him.

He wouldn't let me tag along with him and his friends when they were headed off to do cool things like go skinny dipping at the Sand and Gravel pit or build a fort in the Field or play baseball in the Vacant Lot.

He liked to sneak up on me and sing the theme songs to "Goldfinger" (James Bond) or the television show "Weird" because he knew they both scared the stuffing out of me.

I remember a specific time when Gary Dale (two years younger than me) and I begged Donnie and Gary Dale's big brother Terry to let us tag along for something. They agreed to let us, but we had to pass a test: we had to clamp down on the end of this seedy weed with our teeth and...

...I can't remember what we were supposed to do, but I do remember Gary Dale clamping down on it (I probably talked him into going first, poor kid), and then Terry jerking the end of it hard (laughing) so that all of the seeds remained in Gary Dale's mouth.

That is, until he threw up seconds later.

And I can picture Donnie standing on the couch, laughing and screaming in mock terror during Brenda's 'Spaz Attacks', pushing me down, keeping me between him and "danger" (even though both of us knew we weren't really in danger.)

I knew that, no matter how much any of my siblings complained about how spoiled and bratty I was...no matter how much they didn't want me tagging along...they (somehow) still truly loved me and would never intentionally harm me. 

...Although, Donnie did try to kill me once. It was partially justified. He had gotten in trouble for something, I can't remember what, and (bratty little sister that I was) I piped up with a "nyeh-nyeh-nee-nyeh-nyeh" to rub it in his face... then I saw the Look in his eyes.

I knew that Look. It said "I'm going to kill you!"

I turned and ran down the hall to the bathroom, screaming "Mama, Mama, Mama!" 

Still screaming, I slammed and locked the bathroom door and braced myself as he pounded and pounded on it. Just as he finally broke it open, knocking me back in horror against the cabinets as his hand reached out for me, Mama arrived and pulled him back. Whew!

(Needless to say, I never said "nyeh-nyeh..." to anyone else ever again!) 

Other Donnie memories...watching "The Wizard of Oz" together - he can do a perfect imitation of a Lollipop Guild kid... lying on his bed going through the toy section of the Sears catalog deciding what we wanted for Christmas ... listening to stories he made up about a talking cockroach (I can't remember the stories, but I remember my giggles.)

Donnie is the funniest person I've ever known. I love to laugh, and I've known a lot of funny people that have brought tears to my eyes and taken my breath away, but Donnie is the only one who has ever made me laugh until I actually cried.

Real tears, not just watering eyes. Actual happy-to-sad tears. It was the weirdest thing, and it happened more than once. Usually around the dinner table, of all places. 

As he became a teenager, he was more often serious than silly. When he smiles, it's like sunshine has entered the room. But when he's not smiling, he can look pretty fierce. One of my friends from high school told me he never asked me out back then because he "was scared of Donnie."

He always showed he cared - for a few years I was the only one in the family he gave a Christmas present to. I always loved whatever he gave me, even the hand-me-down orange rubber motorcycle wrapped in a shoebox when I was about five...his old stereo and 45's when I was twelve (he upgraded to albums and a new stereo.)

Best of all, when I was an insecure pre-teen, I knew he would give me honest advice about clothes and boys...not tease me or laugh.

As I prepared to enter high school, he was just graduating. He gave me some advice based on his own rocky high school experience that I believe was life-changing for me: "Get involved in as much as you can so it goes by quick."

So although it was more my nature to try to blend into the woodwork, I stepped out of my comfort zone and ran for class secretary, then joined the Spanish Club and every other organization that I heard about. I'm sure it's because of him that I tried so hard and achieved as much as I did in high school, and why I have the self confidence even now to continue stepping out of my comfort zone and trying new things.

Donnie went into the Navy, went to college, married the love of his life, became a daddy. He suffered heartache, losing most of his best friends too early. And then just a few years ago, his wife Haila died suddenly, right before his eyes, probably in his arms. When Donnie loves, he loves totally, gives his whole heart, holds nothing back. It broke my heart seeing his ripped apart like that.

I thought his smile was lost forever, that he would never find joy in life again, nothing at all to smile about. I wouldn't have been surprised, but I'm glad I was wrong. I know he hasn't forgotten the pain, but he has remembered reasons to smile: his children, his dog, good memories and old friendships - and discovered new ones: two Harley Davidson motorcycles.    

The smile is still rare, and it can't quite take away all of the sadness in his eyes, but even when it's hidden, I know it's there. That's what matters. Because I really do love my big brother who turned fifty-five last week.

And I love to see him smile.

Does it seem foggy in here to you?

    Okay, this morning I realized I'm too old (that's right, I said it!) to function for very long without adequate sleep. Theoretically, it seems like a great idea, and it's worked for me in the past: skimp on sleep, use the extra hours to write or take care of whatever else is screaming for attention at the top of the to-do list that I'm just not able to fit into my day otherwise.

    But what happens now is I wake up feeling like my head is filled with marshmallow creme and I'm trying to walk through waist-deep water. I can't focus long enough to accomplish much...my mind just drifts along on the surface of the water, carried along by currents here and there. I fight sleep at work and my eyes burn trying to read my classmate's screenplay. My face is drooping...sagging...I worry it's going to melt right off!

    I guess I'm going to have to dump all the rocks and sand out of my jar and start all over trying to find a way to fit them all in. One of the first and largest (after God, family, and friends, of course) is SLEEP! I'm bumping it back to a full seven hours somehow, someway. Taking St. Louis de Montfort's advice (below), I'll fit as much as I can around those largest stones, and just won't worry about the rest. (Wish me luck...again!) Goodnight!

"What God wants of you - is that you should live each day as it comes, like a bird in the trees, without worrying about tomorrow. Be at peace and trust in divine Providence and the Blessed Virgin, and do not seek anything else but to please God and to love Him."

A Crisis Averted!

 

 

We have run out of bird seed. I don't know how it happened! Well, I guess the same way we managed to run out of bananas and Tom's shampoo - just not paying attention or getting to the store quick enough.

Frankie doesn't appreciate it one bit and he was letting me know it this morning - staring at me through the French doors, pecking and squawking. I dumped the last few bits of seed and dust onto the window sill this morning. When I fed the dogs, I offered him loose kernels of squirrel corn...flower seeds...even a handful of my healthy whole-grain cereal! I probably dumped $5 worth of stuff on the doorstep, and he turned his beak up at all of it.

He just knew I was holding out on him and slipped inside before I could close the door to search it out himself. It took a while to herd him back outside - he's still convinced I have a secret stash of seed hidden somewhere.

I was hoping our walk would distract him; maybe he'd fill up on bugs. He found a few along the way, but once back home, there was a new dilemma: I always pass out goodies to my critters when we get back home (incentive for them not to run off!) and I had nothing to give Frankie! And there he was looking up at me, chirping, expecting something. He's a good boy, too, after all!

Finally! An image of the birds at the Houston Zoo, and their bowls full of fruit, popped into my head. I rushed to the kitchen, chopped up an apple, ran back outside and offered it to him, holding my breath, hoping he liked it, like a mother catering to a spoiled child or something.

And he did! He liked it! He gobbled it up with his joyful, excited "I LOVE this!" chirps. Whew!

Update: I'm home from the store, happy to report I remembered to grab a bag of seed for Frankie. I can't swear we'll never run out again, so it's good to know I have a back-up just in case! How do my pets get so spoiled?

A friend is one who strengthens you...

...with prayers, blesses you with love and encourages you with hope.

My friend Leslie decorated twenty or thirty bottles with this quote and tucked them into clear cellophane goody bags for my party on Saturday - along with lots of candy, colorful, sparkly confetti, and packs of Cosmos seeds.

I thought the pack of seeds was especially very fitting - I know it sounds really corny, but this group of friends are like Cosmos - each so unique and beautiful (yes, even the guys!) in their own individual way, and becoming a beautiful, colorful bouquet of flowers when together...blending together and complementing each other, but staying true to ourselves, appreciating the differences.

I don't think I've ever had a better birthday party in my life! So many friends coming together, some traveling through storms to get to Austin (two from out-of-state...one I hadn't seen in about 15 years) to laugh, eat, drink, talk and help me celebrate my 50th birthday a little more. In reality we were celebrating OUR 50th birthday and friendships that go back almost to the beginning of those fifty years.     

The morning's storm clouds gave way to a sunshine-and-blue-sky afternoon in my dear friend Darla's gorgeous backyard - not too hot, not too cold, no bugs (well, hardly any) - just perfection! There were the goody bags...the cake with my 17-year-old Homecoming Queen face smiling up at me (I keep expecting to see her in the mirror, but she's long gone from there!)...the wonderful gifts (I'm not a card-carrying member of the Red Hat Society yet, but I've got the boa and red hat!)...the Rudy's barbecue...the millions of photographs...later, a "happy birthday"serenade by my girlfriends accompanied by The Rhythm Dawgs , thanks to Larry's connections, (and subsequent groupie dancing on stage - a first for me!)...and last but not least, CAGE DANCING, another first! It took turning 50 (and my adventurous friend Rae who doesn't have a shy bone in her body getting up there first) for me to have the courage to climb up there. The kids in the club were probably horrified and possibly had nightmares about it later, but who cares? I'm FIFTY and I had fun!

Every picture tells a story...but I could only post a handful here...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Good Guard Dog...Er, Guinea

    

    We had just started our morning walk when the unfamiliar truck appeared on the road ahead of us. Max and Charly stepped to the side with me, but Frankie wasn't nearly that accomodating. He charged right down the middle of the road, straight for the truck, ignoring my calls, lifting his wings up to the side in his "I'm big and bad, don't mess with me" pose.  

  I motioned to the driver to just keep going slowly. One of the men rolled down his window and tried to shoo Frankie away, but that just ticked him off even more and he started his "squonking" - an obnoxiously loud noise somewhere between a goose's honk and a chicken's squawk.

    "Come on, Frankie! Let's walk!" He totally ignored me. He was focused on the enemy.

    It turned out the intruders were just workers coming to thin out the junipers on our neighbor's property. They pulled off the road and Frankie followed them. I continued walking with Max and Charly, calling to Frankie every once in awhile, but he probably couldn't even hear me over his squonks. I could hear him all the way to the curve, fussing and fussing. On our way back, he met us halfway. He was still squonking, but I think it was directed more at me by then, chastising me for leaving him behind, I guess. Or maybe he was berating the dogs for being such...chickens (I couldn't resist!)

    He ignored the men on our return walk, but Charly made a bee line for them through the woods, wagging his tail, scavenging for handouts. What a pushover!

    Good thing I have my Guardian Guinea to strike fear into strangers, because it's obvious my dogs aren't quite clear on the whole stranger/friend thing.

Never Give Up...Never Surrender

    There's that old saying..."an uncluttered desk is an uncluttered mind"...or something like that. It must be true because last night I stayed up late sorting through the pyramids of paper on my desk and serving bar (that's where the mail and all the extra stuff I pull out of my purse and work bag lands), sorting and tossing accordingly, and whaddaya know, at 4:15 AM (sipping my morning coffee after four hours of sleep), a lightbulb finally illuminated the maze I've been stumbling through for months as I've tried to figure out which direction my screenplay was headed. After dozens of false starts and confusing leads, it has finally clicked. Yeah, I know I've said it before, but I really believe it this time! It's like I'm standing above the maze looking down, finally seeing the path I have to take, thinking "I can't believe you couldn't figure your way out of this before!"  

    It's not a moment too soon, either. The sand in my screenwriting hourglass is getting dangerously low. I've come up with a new strategy to give me more quality time for writing - work more hours Monday through Thursday (at WORK, that is) so I have at least one big chunk of day home alone to focus on the screenplay. It's so hard to sit down at the computer each morning and start settling in with the story again, only to run out of time just when I'm getting comfy.  It takes a while for me to step in and wrap my head around the story and the characters, see where I've been and remember where I was headed. I never make much progress - many days I end up just erasing what was done the day before.

     Tom thinks I just try to do too much every day - specifically he thinks I should just quit blogging and checking Facebook or email. (Funny, he never says anything about laundry or grocery shopping or feeding the dogs or paying bills...To his credit, he helps me out with all of those and half of the cooking, too...)

    I figure it would only save me about...hmmm, an hour a day, sometimes two, if I ignored my social media addiction. Still not enough - especially since that hour is spread out into fifteen minutes increments throughout the day. Just filler time. And what he doesn't realize is that my mind is much like my desk - crap piles up and I have to sort through it, get organized, before I can focus on writing. 

    Of course, what it boils down to is I don't want to give them up. For years when the kids were small, I didn't have time for friends or writing the way I do now. My screenplay and my class are VERY important to me, but so are my friends, my extended family (I'm in better touch with them now, too), my 'journaling' and photography. If you've seen that email about the professor lecturing the students about priorities - "put the big rocks in the jar first (family, etc.) because if you fill it up with the small stuff, you won't have any room left" - imagine that some of my big rocks have gotten smaller, making room for these other big, pretty rocks I've rediscovered.

    Two other big rocks I'm hanging onto are my morning work-outs and my prayer walk with the dogs and Frankie - you gotta take care of yourself, physically, mentally, and spiritually. The Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, amen.

    I have reluctantly let some things go from my routine to make way for more writing time. I gave up reading for fun ages ago, settling for boxes of books and dreams of warm afternoons, lying in the hammock on the front porch, lost in the pages of one someday. And my drums...well, I won't even claim to dust them off much anymore, much less play them.

    Recently, I resorted to watching the silly episode recaps of "Lost" on Facebook - they're annoying, but faster than watching the whole episode on the computer (I discovered the timer on our DVR doesn't work and no one is home to start it recording.) I've totally given up on "The Office" and "Desperate Housewives" (unless I time the laundry just right to fold during that time.) I'll just catch up on those this summer.

    So as difficult as it will be, and at the risk of annoying Tom, I'm determined to write this screenplay and STILL (sort of) keep up with this blog and my friends' lives on Facebook. I'm going to spend this coming weekend celebrating my birthday (again) with dozens of friends - some I haven't seen in twenty years or so. I'm going to keep working out and walking the dogs and putting in more hours at my job and avoiding late charges on our bills and emailing friends and commenting on Facebook. I probably won't post any new pictures - well, maybe new ones, but not old ones that I have to scan in first. I'm going to watch movies and read for my class. I'm going to spend time with Kendall, watch all of her soccer games, gather old photos for the senior power point presentation for her graduation (and probably cry over them.) And somehow I'm going to find time to sleep. I can do it!

"Never give up! Never surrender!" (from "Galaxy Quest" - great movie!)

Rejoice!

I'm surrounded by my family, scrambling to get ready for services at my parents' Baptist church. Daniel forgot a nice shirt...I think he's borrowing one of my dad's. I was smart - I got up early to get first dibs on the bathroom so I could be ready and out of the frenzy.

One more year for Easter baskets - is there really a deadline? I think not - as long as I'm with them on Easter morning, I'll drag out their old baskets and fill they with goodies - they each get a shiny egg in the middle with money inside and then lots of candy. I'm sure once I have grandkids, they'll be the focus of my holiday spirit, but for now, my kids are gorging themselves on chocolate for breakfast.

Mama's putting a ham in the oven - we'll share a meal with my brother and sister and their families before heading home.  I think the threat of storms will come true and I don't look forward to it, but it's worth it to spend time with family on a wonderful, blessed day like today. Happy Easter!

"Rejoice, O Earth, in shining splendor, radiant in the brightness of your King! Christ has conquered! Glory fills you! Darkness vanishes forever!" ~ The Exsultet, traditional prayer of praise at Easter vigil

A Good Friday - Thinking about Love

    I'm thinking about family, love and sacrifice today - only fitting, I think, considering it's the day we remember the ultimate sacrifice that Jesus made for us. As if dying to save us from our own sins and give us a chance at eternal life wasn't enough, he set an example for us, showed us how to love: Sacrifice.

For my part, I believe that love is the ability to bear our crosses, whether great or small. ~St. Teresa of Avila

    As anyone who is a parent or has been married can tell you, love is about sacrifice. I'm talking about love, the verb. It's all well and good to talk about how much you love something, but real love is about doing, showing. Something simple like picking up after someone (and biting your tongue about it)...giving up your time for something they enjoy or care about...taking turns with an odious chore like changing diapers or taking out the trash...giving words of encouragement, support, sympathy, interest...

Want to improve your relationships? See love as a verb rather than a feeling. ~ Stephen R. Covey

True love is not in word only but also in action and truth. ~ St. Colomban

   Jesus loved big - his sacrifice wasn't just for his close friends and family, but for everyone - past, present and future included. We should love big, too - not just our friends and family, but our neighbors, the whole world, past, present and future. Our different loves should complement each other, even compound each other into more love, not be at the expense of one or another, or cause pain.

We sin from two causes: either from not seeing what we ought to do, or from not doing what we see ought to be done. ~St. Augustine

   During his life on earth, Jesus also showed us that it's important to take time for ourselves (his retreat into the mountains and slipping away from the crowds) so that we don't drain ourselves dry, unable to give to others because we have nothing of ourselves left to give. I think God gives us each a mission, some talent or passion or drive, and it's up to us to figure out how he wants us to use it.  It's not always easy - at least for me. But you have to take time to listen to him and to develop or use whatever it is he gave you.

Do not be afraid, Christ can fill your heart's deepest aspirations! Are there dreams that cannot come true when it is God's Spirit who inspires them and nourishes them in your heart? Can anything block our enthusiasm when we are united with Christ? ~Pope Benedict XVI

    Jesus had a job, hobbies, and friends. He listened to his mother, attended weddings, celebrated and drank wine. He also suffered, cried and prayed. He showed us how to live in love, let us know it was okay to celebrate and have fun, and that even he wasn't immune to heartache and despair. He loved his life on earth, and yet he gave it all up for us and showed us there was something even better.

For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have enternal life. ~John 3:16

    Have a blessed and joyous Easter!

Skipping (Mile)Stones...You've Come a Long Way, Baby!

I borrowed a couple of my mom's photo albums recently, intending to scan all of the photos into my computer. I've mostly just shuffled that good intention from one to-do list to another, but today I took my first "baby" steps in that direction while posting these "milestone" birthdays of mine...the youngest photos are from her albums. In so many ways, these memories seem like yesterday. In others, they seem like another lifetime (I mean...take a look at all the different hairstyles and colors!)  

 

 

 

 

 

Two, surrounded by family. Okay, it's not a milestone, but they still thought I was cute...

 

Ten...my first slumber party (I'm on the left covering my face at the table, and in the blue lying on the couch.) 

Eighteen, with Chris...

Twenty-one, with Chris. Still.

Thirty, with Leslie, Denise, Kim, and Darla...I threw myself a party!

Forty with my babies and Tom...Marco's Mexican food - yum!

Fifty, with Tom and Kendall - Truluck's Seafood (even more yum!) after a day driving in the country. Life is good (despite the glare on my face.) I'm ready for the next 50 years...

 

 

 

 

A Simple Truth from Jack

Aim at heaven and you will get Earth thrown in. Aim at Earth and you get neither.

C.S. "Jack" Lewis

 

Remembering Darkness, Praying for a Friend

    Suffocation. Blindness. That's how despair feels. It blinds you to all light, hope, faith, joy and love. Things your spirit needs for survival just as your physical body needs air.

    I felt it years and years ago, remember the darkness all around me, like I had stumbled into a cave, cold, clammy, void of all light and warmth. God had mercy on me, forgave me for my selfishness...sent angels to protect me from myself and guide me to safety...sent friends and family whose tears bathed my eyes, allowing the light of love to rush back into my soul and to recognize the blessings all around me.

    In This Present Darkness, Frank Peretti depicts despair as a demon. I can believe this - I still sense his presence lurking around me at times, feel him trying to shroud me with his foul breath that makes me forget that my life is not my own, but God's...separates me from the love and light, fills me with selfishness. Despair is persistent.

    There are days when I worry and fret, feel sorry for myself. Feel disconnected, lost and alone. As scary as it seems, it helps at those times to picture this demon of despair looming nearby, trying to cover me in his dark cloud. It stirs my fight-instinct, makes me kick and scratch and call on God for strength and help.

    I'm praying now for a friend who seems to be shrouded in despair, who has lost hope, forgotten what brings true joy, and is numb to the love around him. Please pray with me.

Springsteen is the Boss, but Weinberg is the King

    I don't think there's a better way to transition from 49 to 50 than watching a bunch of rockers who are closing in on 60 going full blast for three hours. It's so inspiring - if those guys can still do what they do at their age, how much more can I do at mine?

    One thing became clear to me last night (click here to find a video from the concert), that I couldn't see when I was younger...Bruce is without a doubt the soul of the E Street Band; Clarence, Little Steven and the others add personality; but Max Weinberg is for sure the heart that gives it life. He kept the beat going for three solid hours, sometimes just a steady background beat, sometimes an all-out passionate, sticks-blurring frenzy, sometimes a beautiful, intricate composition. We had perfect seats (thanks to George's complaint to the box office about our original ones) for watching him in action, especially with binoculars. I confess my eyes were on him more than on Bruce - soaking it in like a three hour drum lesson.  He was amazing.

    I don't mean to imply Bruce wasn't amazing, too. They all were. Clarence is starting to show a little age - not in his sax playing, just in his slow movements around the stage. The dead give-away was the stool he leaned against most of the time.

    When it was time for the encore, I realized how long it had been since I'd attended a rock concert. The points of light glittering in the darkened hall weren't lighters, but cell phones! And when the lights came on at the very end, I could see! There wasn't that haze of smoke hanging low all through the stadium like in the old days. My ears still had that ringing, stuffed-with-cotton feeling though. I guess some things just can't change if you're talking about rock concerts.

    My only disappointment is they didn't play "Rosalita", one of the songs that got me really listening to Bruce in the first place. But he played most of my other favorites, and ended with "Glory Days", very fitting for a 50th birthday, I think.

    Thank you again, George and Karen!!

Palms, Silly Songs, Soccer, Springsteen - A Sunday Mosaic

    First to Mass for Palms and blessings...next to the Hope House for silly songs and smiles...next soccer with sunshine and celebration (I'm optimistic - they're two for two)...and finally BRUCE SPRINGSTEEN for singing, dancing, memories, and celebrating TWO 50th birthdays with our friends George and Karen.

    This will be my third "date" with Brucie...the first was with our friends Bob and Lisa (whose son Justin called him Bruce "Feen-Feen" at the time - so cute!) and, while I LIKED Bruce, I wasn't a rabid fan. Until the concert, that is.

    I was pregnant with Daniel the second time. I mostly remember fanning the marijuana smoke away from me (from the people sitting in front of us) more than I remember Brucie and the band, paranoid about the smoke harming my baby. I don't recommend going to concerts while you're pregnant.

    It's been over twenty years since I saw Bruce in person - we're both a bit older now, but still going strong. It's going to be a Sunday to remember, that's for sure!

Turn Around

    "Where are you going, my little one, little one? Where are you going, my baby my own? Turn around and you're two, turn around and you're four, turn around and you're a young girl going out of the door." 

    This song (originally sung by Harry Belafonte) is the background music to my life these days as Kendall's focus turns more and more on college and less and less on home and  high school. Her graduation is in less than two months; then she'll be gone for orientation, working, saying goodbye to friends...and POOF! before we can say "turn around", she'll be out the door.

    This morning she went to have her portraits taken - as a favor to me. She hates having her picture taken. But seventeen is such a special age...she's a blend of girl and woman, on the brink of change, the whole world ahead of her. I want to somehow freeze her like this, and Vasara Photography here in town manages to capture a sense of the person in their photographs. Beautiful images - visual art - all outside. The drawback to that is the wind, and as much as I love the wind, it's starting to get on my nerves. Her first appointment last month was canceled - too windy. Her session this morning was cut short - too windy. They'll try again Friday morning.

    Soon we'll be addressing invitations, picking out the last prom dress, keeping our fingers crossed at the scholarship awards ceremony, listening to the last band concert, and watching her leave the platform smiling, diploma in hand, eyes on the future.

    I'm treasuring these last moments of her REALLY at home. Her last season of soccer began last week, and for once, I'm grateful for these long distance games which mean hours together in the car, sometimes talking, sometimes laughing, mostly quiet, but together. I watch her on the field, grateful for my zoom lens so I can get in close, snapping shots of her pushing herself, fighting for the ball, working with her teammates, getting knocked down but jumping right back up to give it all she's got. I'm seeing that "something in her face" that tells me she'll be just fine. And that's what I've hoped for all of her life. 

 

April Babies, Friends Forever

There came a time in high school when I was tossed out of my comfortable social nest. The group I had identified with for years...clung to like a raft in the treacherous middle and high school seas...wrapped around myself like a safe (I thought) cocoon...well, they decided one day that I just didn't belong with them anymore.

I racked my brain, sorted through my every action and word I could remember, trying to figure out what I had done wrong. Why didn't they like me anymore? I couldn't figure it out! I finally realized I had done nothing - said nothing - it was just my turn to feel those cold shoulders. I could sit and mope, feeling sad and lonely, or I could brush it off, find new friends and have fun. Without them.

I didn't have to look far. Kathy was in my science class, and I realized I had been too busy clinging to my safety net to realize how much fun she was and how much we had in common. I opened my eyes a little wider and was surprised to find even more friends all around me. Life outside of the cocoon was actually pretty fun! There were really cool people all around me!

How ironic that what seemed like a nightmare - the worst thing imaginable to a high school kid - turned out to be one of the best things that could happen to me. A true blessing in disguise! I gained more self-confidence and self-awareness, discovered true friendship, and became a more sensitive and caring person.

Within a few years, I was once again friends - even close friends - with several of my old nest-fellows; they were just teenage girls trying to navigate those treacherous waters themselves. We're still friends to this day, and I cherish those friendships, strengthened by fire and time.

But I'll always remember that Kathy was the first one that was there for me when everyone else left me cold and alone. She always saved me a spot on the school bus. We sang "Bad Company" and danced to Sly and the Family Stone...floated the Comal River in New Braunfels...rode around Deer Park with Nathan...went to the Galleria for Mexican Food with Hayden and William...saw Lynyrd Skynyrd with Bobby. Later, clubs in Houston, parties and baseball games at Blinn College, and Wurstfest adventures in New Braunfels evolved into weddings and showers, heartbreak and happiness. There have been times when we've let years pass without seeing each other face to face, and we'll go months without talking, but our hearts are never far apart.

Happy birthday, Kathy! I can't wait to see what the next few decades of our friendship hold in store for us! One thing I know...we'll be there for each other whatever they bring.

Tamara, Kathy, and me before the Sock Hop 1977

 

Kathy and me, Deepwater girls get-together at Patti's lake house 2005

Beginning the Climb

           "To live is so startling, it leaves little time for anything else." (Emily Dickinson)

    Something was in the air this morning - maybe some kind of charge leftover from the thunderstorm that sprinted through before dawn. Or maybe it just spruced everything up, like a good spring cleaning.

    It felt...invigorating...energizing...like I should be celebrating something! Even Charly felt it - on our walk, he actually RAN with Max far ahead of me and Frankie, and he went all the way to the curve! This last week or so he'd been lagging behind, stopping and waiting for us about half the way down the road. My walks have been taking longer because I slow down to wait for him on the way back. Cougars and coyotes are known to lurk around here, but I'm not so worried about any danger to him as much as I hate the idea of him trudging back home alone.

    This morning I could tell he was pushing himself, trying to keep up the pace all the way back. Mind over matter, and this morning it didn't matter to him that he's thirteen. Something inside of him felt much younger, and that's what he decided to listen to. A good lesson for me as I prepare to climb that big milestone just on the other side of this weekend.

    I've actually been preparing all year...celebrating with each one of my friends as they topped the hill. Today I could feel it in earnest, this feeling of celebration...I think it's similar to the adrenaline rush an athlete gets just before a race. When Kendall and I had lunch today after her doctor appointment, for some reason it felt like more than just a lunch. It was a true special occasion. I could feel it!

    Some friends on Facebook must have sensed it, too. They posted happy birthday wishes!

    And tonight, at dinner to celebrate my friend Karen's birthday (two weeks late!), a part of me just couldn't help celebrating my own at the same time! Silently, of course...I didn't want to take away from hers. But it felt too much like a gift to me, spending time with these two friends I rarely get to see anymore.

    It's obvious I've already started the climb to the top of the hill, not willing to wait until Monday and do it all in a rush. I want to enjoy this, take in the scenery as I go, turn every day into a celebration, even after I'm on the other side.

       "Life is a great and wondrous mystery, and the only thing we know that we have for sure is what is right here and right now. Don't miss it." (Leo Buscaglia)