Long Hollow

The Sugar on Top

Tom and I were driving up to Maryland for the first time so I could meet his family and childhood friends before our wedding. It was my first time in Tennessee, the Carolinas and all of those other states between Texas and Maryland. What a fabulous trip - seeing the sunrise just outside of Nashville, driving through the Smokies, the Blue Ridge, and the Shenandoah Mountains, seeing the lights of Washington D.C.

But I think it was soon after we crossed the Virginia state line that I started scavenging for food in the car - I was getting really nervous about meeting his family, and that's one thing I do when I'm nervous. Eat.

When I ran out of food, I pulled out my "practice" photo, the one of Tom and all of his brothers taken at a recent wedding, and started testing myself on the names of his eight brothers. Thank goodness I'd only be meeting five on this trip.

I was mostly nervous about meeting his mom. I would be the first non-Catholic daughter-in-law! We had written back and forth and she seemed to like me, but I couldn't keep those worries out of my head. Now I can't believe I was ever nervous - Mom welcomed with open arms and her beautiful bright smile. She and Pop treated me like their own daughter from the very start.

Over the years, I've seen and heard tales of horrible mother-in-laws, and I realize how very lucky I am...not only did I snag the best husband ever, but he came wrapped in a package with this fabulous woman. She raised nine boys into nine good men without losing her sense of humor, sense of self, and sense of fun.  She's the kind of mother-in-law who was quite willing to turn the care of her sons over to their wives, thank-you-very-much. There was never any kind of test to see if I was "good enough" for Tom - as long as he loved me and thought I was the right one, she did, too. She's always been quick to help and quick with advice...when asked. I've learned by watching her and my own mother how to generously give of myself to my family and my community, but ensure I retain something for myself.

Today is Mom's birthday. I wish we could have been with her, rather than just send our happy birthday wishes over the phone. Now that the kids are all out of school, I'm hoping we'll be able to do just that - plan a visit on her birthday. Or at least close to it. For now, the phone and photos will have to do to make us feel close...

 

Mom and Pop with the first seven...

 

With Tom and me in front of the Maryland house on my first visit...

 

At our wedding...

 

Playing cribbage with Pop and Tom at the Florida house last year...one of her favorite things...

Happy, happy birthday Mom!! Thank you for being you!

Slow Harley Rides and the Perfect Prom Picture

    For the past six years these friends from high school have hit the road on Harleys (well, one Yamaha), just getting away from their regular lives, reconnecting and strengthening their friendship. I think it's great that they care enough about each other to make time for their friendship like this.

 

    This year they planned their route through the Texas Hill Country to be at our house at lunchtime today. My sweet husband grilled hamburgers and sausage, Darla, Leslie and Clive brought chips, dips, and cookies, and we feasted to friendship.

    As if that wasn't enough, Darla and I were able to scratch "ride on a Harley" off of our Bucket Lists! (No, I didn't have a helmet, so we just made a little loop through the parking lot. But it still counts, doesn't it?)

 

    While we were remembering and building on our "old" high school friendships, Kendall was working on her own to remember later. It's Prom night! It took two nights of diligent shopping, but we tracked down the Perfect dress, shoes, hairband, bracelets and clutch purse. The choker she's wearing is true vintage: my sister made it back in 1968 or so.

    The kids met at a house that looks over our hollow, making the pictures even more special, if that's possible. I must have taken 40 or 50 pictures, taking advantage of this rare opportunity of photographing Kendall. As I snapped away, images of many of these kids popped up in my head as they were in kindergarten, when I first met them. I've watched them grow over the years, snapping many pictures along the way, and here they are, a mere week away from their high school graduation.

    It's been a hectic week. I'm glad things are slowing down before the grand finale of graduation; I'm hoping to have some quiet time for reflection, and for remembering pudgy-faced kids learning their ABCs in kindergarten, listening with wide eyes as I, in my librarian role, read to them in 1st grade, and gradually growing taller and smarter into the teenagers smiling into my camera today.

Swimming Through Deepwater (Memories)

     "Deciding to remember, and what to remember, is how we decide who we are."  - Robert Pinsky    

     When Kendall's soccer game was canceled last Saturday morning, Tom and I grabbed that chance to take a walk through my old neighborhood where my parents still live. We headed for a path that meanders through the heart of Deepwater, a twenty-or-so-acre island of mowed green grass dotted with schools, ball fields, playgrounds and a few old pine, ash and oak trees.

    The neighborhood fans out from the island in waves representing decades long gone, recognizable in the styles of the houses. I grew up in the "50's" wave; my parents bought the house brand new when Donnie was a baby...not much later than '54, I guess. Businesses and churches are shoved to the outer perimeter, except for a quaint white-steepled Methodist. That's where Kathy was married...and that's the Englishbee house, where I took piano lessons...and Becky's house is just through that field...

    That's what happens when I'm in the old neighborhood:  memories overlay reality...my mind straddles the past and the present...surrounded by Deepwater, I start "swimming through memories." My friend Robert Duncan actually thought of that phrase - we've been writing back and forth, sharing our memories of growing up in Deepwater...sagas that weave in and out of each other, parallel, and sometimes overlap.  There are others I've become friends with just recently, drawn together merely because we grew up in the same neighborhood, even if we were never friends before.

  "Every thread of gold is valuable. So is every moment of time."  - John Mason     

     Tom's heard it all before - this litany of my memories. He just tunes it out now. This is the sidewalk I followed to school each morning...there's Mike Delaney's house on the left. My old elementary school is still recognizable through the layers of time, despite the wear and tear and changes - just like me. We used to have races at the end of that middle wing every morning before school in 2nd grade.     

    You won't find Deepwater on a map. Physically, it's part of Pasadena; spiritually (as in high school spirit), it believes in Deer Park, all the way. It's a neighborhood with an identity issue, not quite sure who it belongs to. A rebel with a chip on its shoulder. 

    But Deepwater is part of my identity - it still helps define who I am and connects me to others who feel the same way, whether they rode their bikes around these blocks in 1963, 1973 or 1983.

    An early childhood center now sits between the elementary school and the junior high where there used to be a playground...one of those dangerous playgrounds that got banned years ago - metal slides, large and small...tall swings...see-saws...jungle gyms. Beside the playground, backstops lined up neatly, busy with softball and baseball teams practicing each spring. The smell of clover filled the air, and you had to be on the lookout for bees if you went barefoot. That was Ms. Haygood's classroom, there, facing out of the last wing.

    The junior high hasn't changed much at all. Not from this angle anyway. And neither has the ball park. I spent so many nights there watching Donnie play...he was on the Orioles - they wore orange uniforms, so I always ate orange pixie sticks. I'd chase down homeruns and foul balls so I could return them to the concession stand and get a snowcone. I remember one night I got to keep score - I sat out there on the ledge and changed out the numbers. That was so cool... 

    My softball team, the Fawns, lost every single game except one - the one we tied.  I played pitcher and shortstop...      
    That's Rae's house on the corner. And Teason lived right down there. Patti lived down there. And that's the Van Rheen house...
    This house on the corner we called the haunted house, just because we thought every neighborhood should have one. Cindy lived here, and, oh, Philip Wise lived here. I had such a crush on him in third grade...

      "Recall it as often as you wish, a happy memory never wears out." - Libbie Fudim

Completing the Pass

    

      I haven't had time for writing this week - I can almost count the number of days until Kendall's graduation on one hand now, and for each one of them lately there's been some activity scheduled. Writing is a stress reliever for me, so no time for writing plus a hectic schedule means I'm feeling a LITTLE jumpy.

    I'm trying to remember to breathe deeply, slow myself down, engrave each of these final high school minutes in my memory (and in digital form - I have been taking TONS of pictures!) I'm making time for sleeping, running, for walking the dogs, for sitting and sipping coffee while they eat, watching the clouds drift by and the birds fly through the hollow, rather than zipping around "getting stuff done" before work, worried about being late, late, late everywhere and all of the things piling up on every available surface because I haven't had time to sort through it all yet.

    Next week we'll have a lull before the storm - all of the end-of-year events were scheduled for this week: we've had the Annual Powder Puff football game between the senior girls and the junior girls (tied 7-7, but Kendall caught a pass which I caught on my camera and she ran for several yards!); the Band Banquet which was scheduled directly after the afore-mentioned Powder Puff game and Kendall didn't have time for a shower, she was hot, sweaty, and still recovering from the soccer tournament, so she just went home, leaving me to 'represent' even though I was pretty hot and sweaty from sitting in the sun watching her play (I'm glad I went though - for me it was the end of 8 years as a Band Mom, if you add in Tommy and Daniel's years, and I came home with a beautiful bouquet of flowers); last night we started the Hunt for the Prom Dress Part 1 (to be continued tomorrow night); tonight was the Awards Assembly, where all of the local awards and honors are announced (Kendall received two - one from our church and one from the local Women's Club!); tomorrow night is Hunt for the Prom Dress Part 2; and last, but certainly not least, and thank goodness it doesn't really involve me...Saturday night is Prom. If there's something besides church scheduled for Sunday, I've totally blocked it out of my mind.

    I hope you've all had a wonderful week, too!

 

...in a galaxy far, far away...

    According to Mystery Man on Film, 32 years ago today, Star Wars was released in only 32 theaters. I don't remember the exact date of my first viewing - what I do remember is my brother Donnie telling me I HAD to see this movie. I think Donnie has only told me I HAD to do something twice in my life: see Star Wars and read The Lord of the Rings.

    Boy, does he know me! I ended up seeing Star Wars six or seven times that summer, first with Donnie, then dragging my boyfriend, my friend Ann, and who ever else I could get into the theater with me, and I've read The Lord of the Rings two or three times.

    What I didn't realize until I read Mystery's Man's blog post today is that when the first version of the Star Wars script emerged three years before the movie was released, it barely resembled what we saw on the screen. In fact, (and I'm quoting Mystery Man here) "The early drafts were so stunningly awful and so unlike the finished film, it's such a great reminder that any bad script has the potential to reach great heights like Star Wars."

    Oh! Those words are music to my ears! I am pumped up to get back to my screenplay...just as soon as Kendall's graduation is over, anyway.     

Endings...Beginnings

    Well, it wasn't the ending we hoped for, but finishing up second in the State soccer tournament (for the third time) is pretty dang good. I like blue, but red is still one of my favorite colors.

    Saturday everything fell into place - the rainclouds that had delayed earlier games moved out of the way, and the girls were pumped up; they worked together like a well-oiled machine for the 3-0 win. But Sunday, a bad call against us early in the game dampened the girls' spirit more than the thunderstorm that caused a 30 minute delay. The other team won, 1-0, for the blue ribbon.

    It was still a wonderful weekend. The first game, scheduled for early Saturday morning, was canceled, which meant more time hanging out at my childhood home with my parents, and a long walk around the old neighborhood with Tom. Since the state tournament was held in Houston, my parents (and brother, niece, sister, and brother-in-law) were able to watch Kendall play.

    And Saturday night, we had a great time getting really acquainted, in person, with new/old friends that I've been "talking" to on Facebook. I first knew Robert in 7th grade - one of those brief junior high romances, the kind where you're drawn to someone, but really too shy to get to know them and find out why.  His wife Shari and I share a high school memory...from different perspectives - the night I was crowned Homecoming Queen, she was a member of the Homecoming Court, representing the sophomore class. Two years later, she was crowned Homecoming Queen herself.

    But I never really KNEW them until the last few weeks, or maybe months (I've lost track of the time), since we started writing to each other. Life continues to be full of wonderful surprises, like finding new friends in people you've 'known' for years and years. They are such an interesting, impressive, loving couple with funny quirks and fascinating stories. It was amazing how much we had in common.

    Writing to someone and talking to someone face-to-face are two totally separate things, and I admit I was a little nervous about our "date". Thankfully, they were, too. And no telling what Tom was expecting - he doesn't 'Facebook'; he just rolls his eyes about all the time I spend catching up with friends on there. He had probably tuned me out about Robert and Shari a long time ago. But we all had such agreat time, and the staff at Mamacita's Restaurant had to pretty much turn out the lights to get us to leave.

    Overall, it was a weekend of endings and beginnings - the final chapter of TG's Cosmos' soccer days, but I hope just the first of many good memories with Robert and Shari.

What Fifty SHOULD Be

    Chasing dreams, making them come true...Sacrificing your time, traveling to another country to make a real difference in someone's life...That's what two of my fellow 50-year-olds are doing right now. Me, on the other hand...well, I'm living vicariously through them thanks to Facebook and blog pictures and postings because I've spent way too many days this past month sitting in doctors' offices, filling out pages and pages of forms, being poked, prodded, scanned and dilated from one end to the other, some routinely and some not. It's just a vicious coincidence that my headaches and shingles appeared right in the middle of all of my regularly scheduled (way in advance) appointments and check-ups.

    Today I sat in a darkened "dilation" area (a dead-end hallway lined with comfortable chairs on one side and a flat-screen TV on the other), waiting for the ophthalmologist to determine whether or not the shingles had damaged my retina, and thinking about how doctors seem to be getting younger, how all of the waiting rooms, stacks of magazines and polite receptionists are blurring together, and how grateful I am that there is nothing seriously wrong with me - I realize there are people who deal with this on a daily basis for months, even years. 

    My diagnoses so far include:  excellent, normal, and A-Typical. My headaches are still a bit of a mystery, but the physical therapist and I are both convinced they are related to the shingles, which seem to be packing up their bags, preparing to move out. I'm keeping my fingers crossed we're right. Goodbye, good riddance, and PLEASE don't come back!

    Now, back to the 50-year-olds who are accomplishing more than filling out tons of paperwork about their families' medical histories...

    Richard, one of my screenplay classmates, is in Cannes, France. Even as I type this, he is over there hobnobbing with distributors and other movie-type people, trying to sell four films to foreign markets, while learning as much as he can in preparation for selling his own screenplay (Saving The Farm.) I knew I should have gotten his autograph before our last class!

    Meanwhile, Scott, a friend from high school, just arrived in Bayaha, Haiti as part of group of volunteers donating their time to help the poverty-stricken village. Scott even attended a water drilling school a few weeks ago run by Living Water International, an organization that helps bring water to villages in third world countries.

    This is what 50 should be about - dreams, sacrifice, helping others, discovering talents and gifts and passions, using them wisely, being the best you can be, inspiring others along the way. I guess we just have to learn to do all of that in between doctor's visits.

    Now watch this to learn more about the Bayaha, Haiti Project...

Cosmos (kŏz'məs, -mŏs', -mōs') n.: a complete, orderly, harmonious system.

    

    TG's soccer team clinched the title of STYSA Western Division champs yesterday. My soccer mom days are winding down, but they're going out in style at the State tournament this coming weekend!

    The Western Division tournament this past weekend was like the fireworks before the grand finale. The games scheduled for Saturday were rained out and stacked one after another on Sunday...but on a field closer to us. A cool, dry breeze shoved the rain away, making it a perfect day to be outside, whether you were running up and down the field, fighting for the ball, or sitting on the sidelines, biting your tongue at bad calls. Then one of the teams missed their first game - knocking them out of the tournament, and giving TG's team a break in between their two other games. It couldn't have been any better!

    The timing is perfect: TG and I are both pretty tired of spending whole weekends at soccer fields, or driving to and from soccer fields. It's still going to be a bittersweet ending, though. This is her fifth year with the Cosmos - ten seasons with many of the same girls, growing together out of puberty into young women, and with Coach David and his wife Coach Christine, who both bubble over with soccer enthusiasm. When TG first started with them, their youngest son was just a toddler. Now he's yelling advice and criticism from the sidelines!

    I'm grateful to David and Christine for hanging in there despite the raging hormones, attitude, tempers, egos and tears. David made those girls mad, and made them laugh. He made them see they were tough and classy. He made them proud of themselves. There were years he thought about quitting, seasons when he seemed to care more than the girls and wondered if he was wasting his time, but when the next season rolled around and he saw how many girls were returning, he always got fired up again and determined that THIS would be the best season, ever. And it usually was.

    This season is no exception. State...here come the Cosmos!

A Glimpse Inside The Man

Sometimes I'm just not a very good wife. Today is Tom's birthday and I was totally unprepared.

After work, I made a mad dash into town to do things I should have already taken care of...like getting him a present (or three - thanks for the tips, Robert!), a card, and picking up a cheesecake.

(Dinner, by the way: steaks HE picked up yesterday on his way home from work that HE grilled himself tonight. He prefers the ones he cooks over the ones I cook, but that's beside the point.)

I know he doesn't care - he always says birthdays aren't as big a deal to him as they are to me, but still...I need to show him how much he means to me...how much I appreciate the fact that he's alive and that I'm glad he picked marrying me and living in Texas over taking off for adventure in New Zealand or somewhere years ago, like he had planned to do before he met me and Texas became a big anchor holding him in place.

Soon after we met, I looked through his photo albums and marveled that someone hadn't snagged him yet. He was so cute, so adventurous, so independent, so eager to have fun.

Case in point...after high school, he enlisted in the Coast Guard, then hitchiked alone from his home in Maryland all the way across Canada and back before reporting. He was stationed in Kodiak, Alaska and he went prepared to have fun - he pulled a boat behind his old Ford van, brought all of his camping gear, bought a good camera, a dirt bike and rapelling gear (and an old juke box, currently project #336), and had the time of his life.

He said some guys got up there and just complained that there was nothing to do. They couldn't wait until their time was up and they could get back to the lower 48.

And that's one reason I fell in love with him - he's fun! Well, most of the time. No matter where we are or what we're doing.

I'm not sure how staying in Texas with me appealed to him more than heading off to New Zealand or somewhere for more adventure, but I'm glad it did.

In honor of his birthday, I decided to scan some of his old photos, to save them for posterity. 

He really hasn't changed that much! Once a cutie, always a cutie!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Happy birthday, Tom! I love you!

Not Quite a Screenplay, but...

        ...it's more than I had at the beginning of the semester. What I turned in last night resembles a screenplay in the same way a lump of clay resembles a sculpture; I still have a LOT of work ahead of me. But...I did it. I twisted and tucked and pruned my great-great grandfather's experiences into a beginning, middle, and end.

    It seems ironic that I will probably receive one of my worst grades for this class, considering I probably learned and accomplished more in it than in most others I've taken. I was surrounded by such gifted, creative, interesting, humble, open, honest, motivated people who were willing to share their knowledge and experience with everyone else. And it was fun! We laughed so much! I really didn't mind missing all of the episodes of "Lost" (especially after I figured out how to use the DVR and record them!)

    Although I'll miss spending hours with these people every Wednesday, I admit I'm relieved it's over. I am totally exhausted. The last two weeks I've had headaches popping up every 4 to 6 hours or so, and now it seems I've broken out with an "A-Typical" case of shingles. (Thankfully, the a-typical symptoms are lack of severe sensitivity, flu-like aches and pains, and fever.) I think I just need to rest for a while.  

  But not for too long. As soon as Kendall crosses the stage with her diploma in a few weeks, I'll be back at it, pounding, nipping, and tucking at that mound of verbal clay stashed in my computer. I'm determined that one day I'll really be able to call it a screenplay.

Yellow

    Yellow rules our hollow these days. Except for the splash of purple at the dip in the road (my prairie verbena, still hanging in there), a few droopy Mexican hats and the red Indian blanket patches popping up in our little front yard, yellow is the color of the season; I counted at least six different shapes of yellow on my walk this morning.

    Yellow is the color of summer. The calendar might say it's still spring, but if you break a sweat walking at eight in the morning, wearing shorts and a sleeveless shirt, it's summer, isn't it? I can't believe there are this many wildflowers that like the heat, but I'm glad they do...

 

My Favorite Name

    

    It's ironic. Growing up, I didn't dream of being a mother. I preferred toy guns, my bicycle, and stuffed animals over baby dolls. When I peered into my future, I pictured a college degree and some kind of unconventional career, like architect, archaeologist or journalist. Never teacher or nurse.

    I didn't think about getting married and having a family. I took it for granted it would happen,  but it wasn't what I focused on. And to be honest, I never cared that much for babies or little kids. I just didn't fall under their spell. When my friends started having babies, I thought they were cute enough, but I didn't jump at the chance to hold them, change their diaper, or babysit.

    All of that changed shortly after Tom and I were married. It was like night and day, like being hit by a lightning bolt or dropping into colorful Oz from black and white Kansas - one day I was ambivalent and the next day I was in a fervor. I wanted a baby! 

    I was one of the lucky ones whose wish was granted - three healthy times. The transformation was swift and complete - I am a Mother, through and through. A real baby and little kid person. I love to hold them, smell them, rock them, soothe them, and, okay, I'll change the diaper.

    It's hard to imagine ever being any other way. Even today, well past my room mother and bedtime stories days, my babies are in my heart and in my mind as I work on my screenplay, dream of finishing my degree, or spend time with my friends. Part 2 of my job is at hand - being happy I'll soon have an empty nest because my babies are able to fly.   

      But they know that first and foremost, I'm their mother for my whole life, for their whole lives, in all they do, for whatever they need, whenever they need it. Just as my mother is for me. Forever.

    Happy Mother's Day!

       

Single Speckled Male...

...who loves conversation, walks in the country, eating birdseed, bugs and an occasional apple, seeks companionship with single female of his own species. Color doesn't really matter, but I'm looking for a longterm relationship, and I know from experience, speckled seems to have an advantage in the woods over white when it comes to evading predators.

    Frankie has taken to sleeping on a branch of an oak tree near the road. He heads up there every evening around dusk, not even coming back down to the house for seed when we feed the dogs, if it's after dark. We can hear him chirping and crooning, in harmony with the bachelor Chuck-will's-widow that lives nearby, that sounds like a whippoorwill.

    Tom believes Frankie's looking for a girlfriend. He's got a place in his heart that humans, dogs, and squirrels can't fill, I suppose. I think the chances of another guinea showing up here are pretty slim, but then, I was surprised when he and Ruthie appeared about this time last year. You just never know what's going to pop out of these woods! I'll keep my fingers crossed for him!

Swine, Dawgs, and a 'Gator

    Wouldn't you know...I go months without having to go to the doctor, and just when a pandemic is sweeping the world and the news, I get a headache that won't go away and hurts enough for me to go sit in a waiting room full of sick people? Thank goodness no one was coughing. But when I asked the doctor if they'd had any cases of swine flu, he said, Actually, yes. It's not officially confirmed yet, but no one gets the flu in May.

    Great.

    Of course, it's not like I've been wearing a mask and holing myself in the house. Saturday night we celebrated yet another 50th birthday! This time my friend Larry got serenaded on stage by the Rhythm Dawgs. His party was at the Alligator Grill in south Austin - the restaurant featured in the movie Office Space. So cool! Unlike Jennifer Aniston's character, the wait staff don't wear tons of 'flair,' but there is a HUGE alligator on the roof!

 

 

 

 

There are Aching Heads, and There are Headaches

    I've had a headache, as in aching head, for over 24 hours now - not a constant pain, but one of those knife-jabbing off and on jolts just behind my ear.

    Tom's concerned, which I appreciate. He wants me to see a doctor, which turns out to be another headache. Tom's insurance carrier changed last year. The family physician here in town, the ONLY one in town, the one we've been seeing for over ten years, doesn't take the new insurance. Trying to find a new doctor is such a pain.

   I wasn't up to working out this morning, but knew a walk with the critters would be good for me - the fresh air might clear my head, de-stress me a little. And it did, for a little while. But then...would you believe I picked up two empty beer cans on my short little walk?  And spotted a bottle off in the weeds? It's hard to believe, in this day and age, there are still ignorant, inconsiderate people tossing their trash out of their car windows.

    Where's the Tylenol?