This time of year I always have one more reason to be thankful; I’m still here.
Yep, my birthday is in the fall and in honor of the occasion, every year I give myself the gift I really want; a better community. One small check at a time.
Here’s the 2008 list of winners of the Checklist Charlie’s Birthday List of Favorite Community Groups in East Texas.
-The Lift the Library Fund supporting the library in Frankston, where since the mid-80s, books have shared quarters with the Depot Museum. Send checks c/o First State Bank PO Box 277 Frankston TX 75763. The Bullard Library, housed in the familiar old log cabin downtown, it is time Bullard’s library had the space to match their hard work, vision, and community service. PO Box 368, Bullard TX 75757. The Noonday Library where Miss Loretta blesses folks by knowing their names and ordering new books with specific kiddoes in mind. 16662 CR 196 Tyler TX 75703.
-The Neonatal Unit at Trinity Mother Frances. We have always had to load extremely sick newborns into helicopters and ship them off to Dallas, where their families had to cope with the additional burden of travel and lodging. Fortunately that is about to change. It can’t happen soon enough. Donations should be marked Neonatal ICU and can be mailed to Trinity MFHS Foundation at 611 Fleishel, Tyler TX 75701.
-Bathesda Health Clinic. Step inside the clinic and you will immediately recognize that the key to their success is their commitment. Providing health care for the working underinsured of Smith County, Bethesda is primarily staffed by hundreds of doctors, nurses and other volunteers. Plus, while patients pay a small fee, the burden of the cost is shouldered by visionary private donors.
-Discovery Science Place. I love the attitude of teaching kiddoes while they are having fun. I respect all the sacrifices made along the way by the team of community leaders who have worked hard to give East Texas a science museum and then used the facilities to bless lots of families, including my own. They make my list every year: 308 N. Broadway, Tyler TX 75702.
-Pine Cove Christian Camps, where scholarships make it possible for many military families to attend family camp -sometimes while daddy is on tour- and also Boys and Girls Club kiddoes attend camp every summer because of lots of small gifts from people like you and me. Mark checks “scholarship” and mail to PO Box 9055, Tyler TX 75711.
-The TISD Foundation. Every community should be so blessed to have folks willing to give their own money to improve and empower the public schools. One of the oldest education foundations in Texas, this pioneer in public school philanthropy is always coming up with new ways to make public school education better in Tyler. If your business benefits from people raised in the TISD, why not put a check in the mail in honor of your employees? Or if you are interested in learning more about how an education foundation can serve the community, go to www.tylerisd.org.
This Birthday List distinction does not come with a trophy, but it does have a cash prize. I’m turning 50, so I’m sending $50 to each of the lucky winners. They also get listed on my blog. Whoop-te-do, right?
Yeah, I know it’s not much, so I’m hoping you’ll find it in you heart to put a check in an envelope, too. Either to the groups on this list or to the folks you know who are working hard in this community.
They tell me every little bit counts. I believe them. Obviously.
Better communities is a gift we can all be thankful for.
Monday, November 24, 2008
The Miracle of Alzheimer's
My friend Ed has Alzheimer’s.
One of my first encounters with Ed happened over twelve years ago. It was a rainy day and I saw Ed’s car stranded by the side of the road with a police car pulled up behind it. Fortunately, my husband has a habit of keeping huge golf umbrellas in my car.
Ed and I and the officer stood in a dry island, our own little universe of three people under my big umbrella. Ed talked about faith and we prayed for God’s protection for the officer while we waited for the tow truck.
I know it was twelve years or more because my son wasn’t yet born. My son has only known a world that included Ed.
Ed, and his wife Kathy, always kept candy in a drawer just in case the neighborhood kids happened to ring the doorbell which, naturally, the kids did on a regular basis. After a while, Ed started sharing his stash of ice cream bars. William, my son, would return home from errands to their house with one for mom, knowing that if I didn’t eat it, he would get two.
Ed, a brilliant, gentle giant of a man, spent his career teaching teachers at Lutheran colleges.
I know that Alzheimer’s is unpredictable. Still, if I didn’t know better, I would think that the reason that Ed still has access to the teaching and the gentleness tracks in his brain is because those are the tracks he used most often over the years.
Observing Ed teach is a sight to behold.
Now days, when we go visit Ed, he gives my son putting lessons. Each time William misses the putt, Ed gently shows him again how to line up his golf club against the plastic target on the other end of the room.
Same lesson every few minutes. Just like it was the first time Ed ever explained it. Because, for Ed now, every few minutes is the first time.
William is learning to listen attentively like it’s the first time for him, too, because he wouldn’t hurt Ed’s feelings for anything in the world.
Actually, putting has turned out to be the strongest point of William’s golf game. Hmm…
Ed’s favorite verse is, “Lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways, acknowledge Him….”
If you ask Ed about scripture, he will quote these verses from Proverbs 3:5-6 and then, gently explain the many benefits of trusting in the Lord over man’s limited capacity to understand. This from the man who always had brain power to spare.
If you wait a few minutes, he’ll repeat the lesson.
His face will light up and he will repeat the lesson just like it is the very first time he thought of it.
I always try to remember to ask Ed about that scripture when we’re together.
Like golf, some of Life’s lessons are better with repetition.
One of my first encounters with Ed happened over twelve years ago. It was a rainy day and I saw Ed’s car stranded by the side of the road with a police car pulled up behind it. Fortunately, my husband has a habit of keeping huge golf umbrellas in my car.
Ed and I and the officer stood in a dry island, our own little universe of three people under my big umbrella. Ed talked about faith and we prayed for God’s protection for the officer while we waited for the tow truck.
I know it was twelve years or more because my son wasn’t yet born. My son has only known a world that included Ed.
Ed, and his wife Kathy, always kept candy in a drawer just in case the neighborhood kids happened to ring the doorbell which, naturally, the kids did on a regular basis. After a while, Ed started sharing his stash of ice cream bars. William, my son, would return home from errands to their house with one for mom, knowing that if I didn’t eat it, he would get two.
Ed, a brilliant, gentle giant of a man, spent his career teaching teachers at Lutheran colleges.
I know that Alzheimer’s is unpredictable. Still, if I didn’t know better, I would think that the reason that Ed still has access to the teaching and the gentleness tracks in his brain is because those are the tracks he used most often over the years.
Observing Ed teach is a sight to behold.
Now days, when we go visit Ed, he gives my son putting lessons. Each time William misses the putt, Ed gently shows him again how to line up his golf club against the plastic target on the other end of the room.
Same lesson every few minutes. Just like it was the first time Ed ever explained it. Because, for Ed now, every few minutes is the first time.
William is learning to listen attentively like it’s the first time for him, too, because he wouldn’t hurt Ed’s feelings for anything in the world.
Actually, putting has turned out to be the strongest point of William’s golf game. Hmm…
Ed’s favorite verse is, “Lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways, acknowledge Him….”
If you ask Ed about scripture, he will quote these verses from Proverbs 3:5-6 and then, gently explain the many benefits of trusting in the Lord over man’s limited capacity to understand. This from the man who always had brain power to spare.
If you wait a few minutes, he’ll repeat the lesson.
His face will light up and he will repeat the lesson just like it is the very first time he thought of it.
I always try to remember to ask Ed about that scripture when we’re together.
Like golf, some of Life’s lessons are better with repetition.
How to be the Spouse at a Business Gathering
My friend sat at the table, looking quiet and lost.
Normally talkative, entertaining, and outgoing, I wondered if he was coming down with a cold, or something.
Then, it dawned on me, it was the first time he had ever been the spouse at a business meeting.
Normally, he was the boss and his wife was the sidekick. With their roles reversed, he was clearly feeling like a duck out of water.
This is the time of year when holiday parties happen.
With that in mind, I am passing along some tips from my vast experience of being the sidekick.
Number one: It’s not about you.
-Don’t compare yourself to anyone else in the room.
-Don’t worry about what anyone thinks of you. It is irrelevant.
-Do focus on the other people.
-Keep all humor self-effacing. Tell stories on your spouse that highlight a wonderful character quality.
Number Two: It IS about your spouse, sort-of.
-Brag about your spouse. Make any comments that begin with “I am so proud of the way my spouse…”
-Be careful not to say anything that implies need for improvement.
-Dress in a way that honors the other person, neat and modest. Not sloppy, frumpy, and certainly not too vavoom.
-Remember that it never reflects well on your spouse if you get sloshed; better not drink if you can’t control yourself.
Last and most importantly: It is really about the co-workers.
-Greet each person, each time, with warmth and genuine interest.
-Ask open-ended, noncontroversial questions.
-Listen attentively like the person is the only human in the room.
-Look for ways to encourage your spouse’s co-workers.
-Say the positive things you know to be true, for example, “I’ve heard my spouse say how much he respects you.”
-Keep a grateful heart and express thankfulness where it is appropriate, “I am thankful for the things you do to help my spouse.”
-Be open to new friendships.
-Keep in mind that holidays can be difficult for folks because of grief or painful memories; be gentle and tender, aware and attentive to how people may be suffering this time of year.
Above all, have fun and enjoy being the sidekick in your spouse’s world.
Normally talkative, entertaining, and outgoing, I wondered if he was coming down with a cold, or something.
Then, it dawned on me, it was the first time he had ever been the spouse at a business meeting.
Normally, he was the boss and his wife was the sidekick. With their roles reversed, he was clearly feeling like a duck out of water.
This is the time of year when holiday parties happen.
With that in mind, I am passing along some tips from my vast experience of being the sidekick.
Number one: It’s not about you.
-Don’t compare yourself to anyone else in the room.
-Don’t worry about what anyone thinks of you. It is irrelevant.
-Do focus on the other people.
-Keep all humor self-effacing. Tell stories on your spouse that highlight a wonderful character quality.
Number Two: It IS about your spouse, sort-of.
-Brag about your spouse. Make any comments that begin with “I am so proud of the way my spouse…”
-Be careful not to say anything that implies need for improvement.
-Dress in a way that honors the other person, neat and modest. Not sloppy, frumpy, and certainly not too vavoom.
-Remember that it never reflects well on your spouse if you get sloshed; better not drink if you can’t control yourself.
Last and most importantly: It is really about the co-workers.
-Greet each person, each time, with warmth and genuine interest.
-Ask open-ended, noncontroversial questions.
-Listen attentively like the person is the only human in the room.
-Look for ways to encourage your spouse’s co-workers.
-Say the positive things you know to be true, for example, “I’ve heard my spouse say how much he respects you.”
-Keep a grateful heart and express thankfulness where it is appropriate, “I am thankful for the things you do to help my spouse.”
-Be open to new friendships.
-Keep in mind that holidays can be difficult for folks because of grief or painful memories; be gentle and tender, aware and attentive to how people may be suffering this time of year.
Above all, have fun and enjoy being the sidekick in your spouse’s world.
The Gift of Integrity
This time of year, while I’m checking the list of what our kids want for Christmas, I try to get what they need, too.
Integrity may not be as high on our son’s Christmas list as, say, Wii, but it’s a lot more practical in the long run. Unfortunately, integrity will cost me more, too.
Integrity is not as easy as it sounds.
When we think of integrity, we think of a person who consistently does what is right.
Just when I think my heart attitude and my behavior are starting to reflect some kind of maturity, I goof up. Fifty years of practicing the goof-ups just takes it toll, I guess.
With that in mind, I’ve come up with a workable solution to the problem of integrity; I simply re-defined the word.
If you like this definition, it can be yours:
Being the “you” that God designed and expressing it in a way that blesses others.
Somehow as humans, we got the message that we are expected to be perfect. Maybe that’s because the New Testament Greek word for mature is frequently translated, poorly, as perfect.
Perfect brings to mind cookie-cutter people who never make mistakes. How boring! Even scary, like test-tube, lab designed perfection.
We associate perfection with a wrath-full God and miss the point.
God designed us to be human, not demi-gods. Actually, the effort to be god-like is the very presumption that got Satan, then Eve, then Adam, into trouble in the first place. Oh yeah, and the rest of us, too.
No, as we seek maturity, what we should be emulating is God’s sacrificial nature. A pretty tall order for folks with clay feet and fifty years of practicing selfish goof-ups.
Maturity means expressing sacrifice in a way that is unique to our own God-designed personality.
God, who knows us so well and loves us in the very moment of our human frailties and goof-ups, gave us a helpful hint in the form of the Golden Rule.
The Golden Rule. So Simple. So straightforward.
Even the smallest child can quote it. “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. So easy to wrap your brain around.
Unfortunately, the heart has a mind of its own.
For those momentary lapses when the Golden Rule slips beyond our grasp, there’s always confession.
The right heart attitude plus confession equals a restored balance.
Integrity, not perfection.
Not being god-like, just being human with an emphasis on sacrifice and confession.
Now there’s a kind of integrity I can relate to.
It won’t replace the goof-ups altogether, but with a little practice, it might prove to be simpler to pass along to my kids.
At Christmas or any time, integrity is the perfect gift.
Integrity may not be as high on our son’s Christmas list as, say, Wii, but it’s a lot more practical in the long run. Unfortunately, integrity will cost me more, too.
Integrity is not as easy as it sounds.
When we think of integrity, we think of a person who consistently does what is right.
Just when I think my heart attitude and my behavior are starting to reflect some kind of maturity, I goof up. Fifty years of practicing the goof-ups just takes it toll, I guess.
With that in mind, I’ve come up with a workable solution to the problem of integrity; I simply re-defined the word.
If you like this definition, it can be yours:
Being the “you” that God designed and expressing it in a way that blesses others.
Somehow as humans, we got the message that we are expected to be perfect. Maybe that’s because the New Testament Greek word for mature is frequently translated, poorly, as perfect.
Perfect brings to mind cookie-cutter people who never make mistakes. How boring! Even scary, like test-tube, lab designed perfection.
We associate perfection with a wrath-full God and miss the point.
God designed us to be human, not demi-gods. Actually, the effort to be god-like is the very presumption that got Satan, then Eve, then Adam, into trouble in the first place. Oh yeah, and the rest of us, too.
No, as we seek maturity, what we should be emulating is God’s sacrificial nature. A pretty tall order for folks with clay feet and fifty years of practicing selfish goof-ups.
Maturity means expressing sacrifice in a way that is unique to our own God-designed personality.
God, who knows us so well and loves us in the very moment of our human frailties and goof-ups, gave us a helpful hint in the form of the Golden Rule.
The Golden Rule. So Simple. So straightforward.
Even the smallest child can quote it. “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. So easy to wrap your brain around.
Unfortunately, the heart has a mind of its own.
For those momentary lapses when the Golden Rule slips beyond our grasp, there’s always confession.
The right heart attitude plus confession equals a restored balance.
Integrity, not perfection.
Not being god-like, just being human with an emphasis on sacrifice and confession.
Now there’s a kind of integrity I can relate to.
It won’t replace the goof-ups altogether, but with a little practice, it might prove to be simpler to pass along to my kids.
At Christmas or any time, integrity is the perfect gift.
Winning the Wardrobe Wars
“She is sensible.”
At our house, that is the highest form of praise a girl can get.
As opposed to the biggest insult which is “She is silly!” Translated: boy-crazy.
As the mom of a boy, I can’t help but notice some of the girls’ wardrobe tendencies. I have a few ideas for moms out there who will be gearing up to take their daughters Christmas shopping for clothes.
First, please, let little girls stay little as long as you can. Please.
Especially in elementary school, little girls do not need to show up dressed like rock stars.
Those outfits are fun costumes for home and for pretend, but please come to school dressed for success.
Secondly, dressing for success is a good idea for Junior High and older, too.
Moms, here is some ammunition to share at the mall with your daughters when you need reinforcements to win the wardrobe wars.
-Boys’ moms are busy pointing out the girls who are not behaving sensibly.
-We are training our sons to be kind, but recognize girls who are needy.
-We identify needy girls not only by how they behave, but also by how they dress.
-We are teaching our sons to avoid girls who dress vavoom-ishly. So, that cute, tight top she wants might become the very reason a boy avoids her.
-A consistent smile and kindness are the things most boys finds interesting in a girl.
-If a girl is a good listener, a good tutor, and a good athlete, she will earn the respect of her peers, including the boys. Unless, of course, her clothes are distracting.
-All the boys’ moms talk. We know who the girls are that are respected by our sons.
-We try not to say anything unkind about anyone, but we can’t help but know who is getting the wrong kind of attention. Please tell your daughters that while they will attract some attention with vavoom-y outfits, it probably won’t be attention they want.
-Boys don’t like it when the girl asks out the boy, my son added.
“Don’t date ‘til college,” was his comment when I asked his opinion about this column.
Not bad advice if a kid’s goal is to be successful.
Waiting to date, as opposed to being boy-crazy, for example, takes all the pressure off of a girl’s wardrobe, too. It gives a girl plenty of time to acquire skills and to study.
Not to mention, time to play team sports or learn a musical instrument. Or both.
Waiting to date gives a girl time to have some fun, to hang out, and to build friendships. Sensibly. All without getting her heart broken every few months.
Keeping your daughter’s heart whole is a good reason to pay attention to the wardrobe wars.
At our house, that is the highest form of praise a girl can get.
As opposed to the biggest insult which is “She is silly!” Translated: boy-crazy.
As the mom of a boy, I can’t help but notice some of the girls’ wardrobe tendencies. I have a few ideas for moms out there who will be gearing up to take their daughters Christmas shopping for clothes.
First, please, let little girls stay little as long as you can. Please.
Especially in elementary school, little girls do not need to show up dressed like rock stars.
Those outfits are fun costumes for home and for pretend, but please come to school dressed for success.
Secondly, dressing for success is a good idea for Junior High and older, too.
Moms, here is some ammunition to share at the mall with your daughters when you need reinforcements to win the wardrobe wars.
-Boys’ moms are busy pointing out the girls who are not behaving sensibly.
-We are training our sons to be kind, but recognize girls who are needy.
-We identify needy girls not only by how they behave, but also by how they dress.
-We are teaching our sons to avoid girls who dress vavoom-ishly. So, that cute, tight top she wants might become the very reason a boy avoids her.
-A consistent smile and kindness are the things most boys finds interesting in a girl.
-If a girl is a good listener, a good tutor, and a good athlete, she will earn the respect of her peers, including the boys. Unless, of course, her clothes are distracting.
-All the boys’ moms talk. We know who the girls are that are respected by our sons.
-We try not to say anything unkind about anyone, but we can’t help but know who is getting the wrong kind of attention. Please tell your daughters that while they will attract some attention with vavoom-y outfits, it probably won’t be attention they want.
-Boys don’t like it when the girl asks out the boy, my son added.
“Don’t date ‘til college,” was his comment when I asked his opinion about this column.
Not bad advice if a kid’s goal is to be successful.
Waiting to date, as opposed to being boy-crazy, for example, takes all the pressure off of a girl’s wardrobe, too. It gives a girl plenty of time to acquire skills and to study.
Not to mention, time to play team sports or learn a musical instrument. Or both.
Waiting to date gives a girl time to have some fun, to hang out, and to build friendships. Sensibly. All without getting her heart broken every few months.
Keeping your daughter’s heart whole is a good reason to pay attention to the wardrobe wars.
Heroes I Know: Max
“You can’t out-give God and you can’t out-give Max.”
That’s the way we say it at our house.
Max is our next door neighbor and we know a lot about him. It’s hard to hide anything when you share driveways.
His generosity is a fact of daily life for our family; particularly for my son.
My son was blessed with a treasure-load of grandfathers. Not only did he inherit two of the best grandfathers in the world, just by being our kid, but, for some reason, he is also blessed with plenty of surrogates.
He must be some kind of grandfather magnet.
Maybe old guys see my son and remember what it was like to be a boy; young, invincible, and full of dreams and imagination. Or maybe they see me and recognize a woman who has her hands full with this kid. Either way, I’m thankful.
William has been following around behind Max since he was big enough to toddle.
Together, they’ve battled snakes with shovels, made wooden creations in Max’s shop, built campfires, and trained our dog to sit for treats.
Over the years, Max has included my son on adventures when his own grandsons visit, turning hikes into expeditions and a dip in the lake into celebrations of boyhood.
All the while demonstrating a vast generosity of spirit that is synonymous with his faith.
Oh yeah, and he prays. A lot.
How do I know? I ask him to and I can tell by the way he follows up.
I would have been willing to spend a lot more to get this house, if I had known that prayer came as part of the package
Right now, Max is battling cancer again.
It must be exhausting work. I can tell by the way it takes all his energy just to get the newspaper.
He still has energy to check on us. To love my son. To love his kids and grandkids. And his wife of more than sixty years.
So, I’m praying for Max, not that I’ll ever be able to catch up with all the gifts of prayer he has given me over the years.
I know people who pray for parking spaces. Okay, maybe I’ve done it myself once in awhile. Not any more though.
To me, miracles are about life, not parking spaces. I am discovering as I age that life happens deep within. The body is essential to our survival on this planet, but there is more.
Somewhere beyond our body, and, at the same time, somewhere deep inside ourselves, we know that life is happening regardless of our physical condition.
When our bodies are done, life will still happen.
Sounds cosmic, and yet, we know. Somehow, we know.
Maybe it’s because Max’s spirit is bigger than his body. More real somehow.
That’s the way we say it at our house.
Max is our next door neighbor and we know a lot about him. It’s hard to hide anything when you share driveways.
His generosity is a fact of daily life for our family; particularly for my son.
My son was blessed with a treasure-load of grandfathers. Not only did he inherit two of the best grandfathers in the world, just by being our kid, but, for some reason, he is also blessed with plenty of surrogates.
He must be some kind of grandfather magnet.
Maybe old guys see my son and remember what it was like to be a boy; young, invincible, and full of dreams and imagination. Or maybe they see me and recognize a woman who has her hands full with this kid. Either way, I’m thankful.
William has been following around behind Max since he was big enough to toddle.
Together, they’ve battled snakes with shovels, made wooden creations in Max’s shop, built campfires, and trained our dog to sit for treats.
Over the years, Max has included my son on adventures when his own grandsons visit, turning hikes into expeditions and a dip in the lake into celebrations of boyhood.
All the while demonstrating a vast generosity of spirit that is synonymous with his faith.
Oh yeah, and he prays. A lot.
How do I know? I ask him to and I can tell by the way he follows up.
I would have been willing to spend a lot more to get this house, if I had known that prayer came as part of the package
Right now, Max is battling cancer again.
It must be exhausting work. I can tell by the way it takes all his energy just to get the newspaper.
He still has energy to check on us. To love my son. To love his kids and grandkids. And his wife of more than sixty years.
So, I’m praying for Max, not that I’ll ever be able to catch up with all the gifts of prayer he has given me over the years.
I know people who pray for parking spaces. Okay, maybe I’ve done it myself once in awhile. Not any more though.
To me, miracles are about life, not parking spaces. I am discovering as I age that life happens deep within. The body is essential to our survival on this planet, but there is more.
Somewhere beyond our body, and, at the same time, somewhere deep inside ourselves, we know that life is happening regardless of our physical condition.
When our bodies are done, life will still happen.
Sounds cosmic, and yet, we know. Somehow, we know.
Maybe it’s because Max’s spirit is bigger than his body. More real somehow.
Rain Means New Growth
It is raining today as a write.
It is a beautiful, drippy rain that gently announces springtime has arrived in East Texas. The sky is my favorite light-soaked gray that spotlights all the vibrant greens and pinks, as if nature is declaring in triumph that new growth is pushing up yet again.
I’m glad it is raining today, even though I was thankful for the window of sunshine that appeared in perfect timing for my firstborn’s outdoor wedding.
The rain fits my mood.
“It’s a lot like childbirth all over again,” whispered a dear friend as I stared off vacantly in a momentary lull at the reception. There was laughter all around me, but I wasn’t paying attention until she leaned in to whisper her encouragement.
I snapped back to reality.
“I didn’t expect it to hurt this much,” I whispered, looking deeply into my friend’s eyes, soaking up her compassion as she nodded with understanding.
Each time I gave birth to my children I purposely stayed at the hospital an extra day to heal. I knew once they loaded me into that wheelchair and pushed me out the front door, that I would be the caretaker of that delightful little bundle. I needed to be ready.
I figure waving goodbye to your firstborn as she happily skips away holding the hand of her beloved qualifies as one of those rewards in life that requires astonishing courage.
So, I’m taking the day off today.
Tomorrow, I will wake up, put on my game face, focus my attention on eternity, and get back in the game of life. I will focus a thankful heart on the small blessings that happen each moment for the person who is paying attention.
Tomorrow, I will drop my son off at school and holler out the window as I drive away, “You are the best boy in the whole world!”
I will interview my friend who made planning a wedding and a reception a piece of cake; a delicious, three-tiered white cake with a hand-painted topper of the bride and groom, to be exact.
I will call another friend who is planning her daughter’s wedding and I will ask if her bride has chosen her colors yet. I will give my friend the heads-up on what the process will cost her emotionally.
I will pack my suitcase for a weekend away with the groom I chose almost twenty-five years ago.
Today, however, I am going to wrap a blanket around myself. I am going to reflect on the birthing process. I am going to consider the difference between physical birth and emotionally letting go.
And I am going to watch it rain.
It is a beautiful, drippy rain that gently announces springtime has arrived in East Texas. The sky is my favorite light-soaked gray that spotlights all the vibrant greens and pinks, as if nature is declaring in triumph that new growth is pushing up yet again.
I’m glad it is raining today, even though I was thankful for the window of sunshine that appeared in perfect timing for my firstborn’s outdoor wedding.
The rain fits my mood.
“It’s a lot like childbirth all over again,” whispered a dear friend as I stared off vacantly in a momentary lull at the reception. There was laughter all around me, but I wasn’t paying attention until she leaned in to whisper her encouragement.
I snapped back to reality.
“I didn’t expect it to hurt this much,” I whispered, looking deeply into my friend’s eyes, soaking up her compassion as she nodded with understanding.
Each time I gave birth to my children I purposely stayed at the hospital an extra day to heal. I knew once they loaded me into that wheelchair and pushed me out the front door, that I would be the caretaker of that delightful little bundle. I needed to be ready.
I figure waving goodbye to your firstborn as she happily skips away holding the hand of her beloved qualifies as one of those rewards in life that requires astonishing courage.
So, I’m taking the day off today.
Tomorrow, I will wake up, put on my game face, focus my attention on eternity, and get back in the game of life. I will focus a thankful heart on the small blessings that happen each moment for the person who is paying attention.
Tomorrow, I will drop my son off at school and holler out the window as I drive away, “You are the best boy in the whole world!”
I will interview my friend who made planning a wedding and a reception a piece of cake; a delicious, three-tiered white cake with a hand-painted topper of the bride and groom, to be exact.
I will call another friend who is planning her daughter’s wedding and I will ask if her bride has chosen her colors yet. I will give my friend the heads-up on what the process will cost her emotionally.
I will pack my suitcase for a weekend away with the groom I chose almost twenty-five years ago.
Today, however, I am going to wrap a blanket around myself. I am going to reflect on the birthing process. I am going to consider the difference between physical birth and emotionally letting go.
And I am going to watch it rain.
It's a Wig!
“It’s a wig,” whispered my new friend, Kristie, as she drew in close to me at the table where we were having lunch in honor of our wonderful daughters.
“You have got to be kidding!” I exclaimed, leaning back to get a good look at the soft brown hair, neatly trimmed and framing her face with the gorgeous smile.
The conversation turned to the heartaches women face in life.
Breast cancer. Divorce. Dating again, ugh. Remarriage.
The beautiful, blond lady across the table shared about the hurt she felt when her first husband came home and told her he wanted a divorce.
She shared about going back to the church where they had been active, respected members and facing the humiliation of a divorce.
“You find out who your friends are,” she said.
Her daughter is beautiful and blond, too, and highly successful at her university. The pain of her parents’ divorce was momentarily relived on her face as her mother spoke of it.
My thoughts turned to a lady that I met for the first time the day before who cried as she talked about the trauma of infertility.
If only we could spare our daughters the pain of life.
I looked up Kristie’s story on a website called www.breastcancerstories.com. If you go there, click on “read stories,” then scroll down about half way until you see a Kristie from Texas.
I should warn you, it’s personal. She even included pictures of shaving her head.
One of my favorite parts was the nicknames she listed for breast cancer. I’m guessing that “clump in the lump” is the only one that might make it past my editor’s red pen. The other nicknames demonstrate a more creative, free approach to the English language. I laughed. Personally, being a writer, I appreciate new ways to use old words.
But the best thing about Kristie’s story is the way she is so honest about her fear. In writing about her cancer, she keeps coming back to her relationships.
That’s probably why I instantaneously liked her as we sat together. Her heart and life seemed available to me.
I guess the best we can hope for, as women, is to live honestly before our daughters. Maybe as we lean on our friends in life’s crises, they can see what strength looks like. Not being perfect, but being vulnerable, being patient, being resilient.
Facing life bald. Putting on a wig and a smile and looking for a chance to encourage someone else before we die. Today, in case today is all we get.
And leaving our children, especially our daughters, the inheritance of knowing what unconditional friendship looks like.
The beautiful blond lady missed the first part of the conversation, but she suddenly realized we were talking about Kristie’s cancer.
“It’s a wig?!” she exclaimed.
“You have got to be kidding!” I exclaimed, leaning back to get a good look at the soft brown hair, neatly trimmed and framing her face with the gorgeous smile.
The conversation turned to the heartaches women face in life.
Breast cancer. Divorce. Dating again, ugh. Remarriage.
The beautiful, blond lady across the table shared about the hurt she felt when her first husband came home and told her he wanted a divorce.
She shared about going back to the church where they had been active, respected members and facing the humiliation of a divorce.
“You find out who your friends are,” she said.
Her daughter is beautiful and blond, too, and highly successful at her university. The pain of her parents’ divorce was momentarily relived on her face as her mother spoke of it.
My thoughts turned to a lady that I met for the first time the day before who cried as she talked about the trauma of infertility.
If only we could spare our daughters the pain of life.
I looked up Kristie’s story on a website called www.breastcancerstories.com. If you go there, click on “read stories,” then scroll down about half way until you see a Kristie from Texas.
I should warn you, it’s personal. She even included pictures of shaving her head.
One of my favorite parts was the nicknames she listed for breast cancer. I’m guessing that “clump in the lump” is the only one that might make it past my editor’s red pen. The other nicknames demonstrate a more creative, free approach to the English language. I laughed. Personally, being a writer, I appreciate new ways to use old words.
But the best thing about Kristie’s story is the way she is so honest about her fear. In writing about her cancer, she keeps coming back to her relationships.
That’s probably why I instantaneously liked her as we sat together. Her heart and life seemed available to me.
I guess the best we can hope for, as women, is to live honestly before our daughters. Maybe as we lean on our friends in life’s crises, they can see what strength looks like. Not being perfect, but being vulnerable, being patient, being resilient.
Facing life bald. Putting on a wig and a smile and looking for a chance to encourage someone else before we die. Today, in case today is all we get.
And leaving our children, especially our daughters, the inheritance of knowing what unconditional friendship looks like.
The beautiful blond lady missed the first part of the conversation, but she suddenly realized we were talking about Kristie’s cancer.
“It’s a wig?!” she exclaimed.
Un-cool Mom for President
I’ve decided to run for president.
I’m a cinch to be elected because my platform is so terrific.
No more hand-held technology for people under age to vote.
Of course, I’ll only be an incumbent as long as the next generation is under-age. I can’t even tell you the name of these so-called games; these new-fangled toys that give the kids carpel tunnel syndrome in their thumbs.
Have you noticed that modern games all have initials? Every time my son begs for them yet again, I have no idea what he is talking about.
There he is, asking me for PSPs, X-Boxes, and blah, blah, blahs, and I think we are discussing his spelling homework.
Whatever happened to games with names that normal, alphabet-challenged people could understand?
I definitely have developed a game aversion. So, how did I end up in charge of games for a recent school party? Good question.
Each and every year, my son volunteers me to be homeroom mom. Each and every year, I un-volunteer myself. I just couldn’t do that to his teachers; I respect them too much.
Some moms are known for their organizational skills; some of us are not. I recently got asked to help with a party, even though I was way down on the list, you understand. The other moms were desperate.
Some of us normally bring chips or cookies to these events, something the other mothers can get along without in case we forget again. In all these years, it never occurred to me to actually notice what the activities were at the parties.
Naturally, I planned games for this particular event.
Marbles, Jacks, and a fast-paced card game called Pounce. Pounce must not be on any electronic devices yet because it turned out the kids had no idea how to play it.
Of course, most moms would know that it is a terrifically un-cool to plan a party at school around such old-fashioned, un-electronic games.
On the other hand, my children are pretty well-adjusted to the fact that their mother is the most un-cool human on the planet. And I am totally proud of it too, I might add.
It turns out that some of the kids in his class are not as versed in coolness as my son. They actually loved Marbles, Jacks, and Pounce.
They liked the games so much that we sent them home with the toys and cards so they could teach their siblings how to play.
Un-cool moms unite! We might be onto something here.
So, here are the games I’m taking to the next party at school.
-Paddle balls
-Chinese Checkers
-Badminton
-Whiffle Ball
Someone told me that elementary schools are no longer allowed to teach soft ball on campus because anger management and baseball bats don’t mix well. Too many bullies.
We had bullies back in the dark ages when I was in school. Kids of our era had survival skills, I guess. We knew which kids to trust with a bat.
So, my fellow Americans, I am calling on all un-cool moms to restore America’s favorite pastime to the next generation: Teach whiffle ball at the next school party. I think hotdogs could replace the cookies and chips, too, by the way.
I also like whoopee cushions. They are funny. In a very elementary school kind of way.
Whoopee cushions have an added benefit; I’m pretty sure if we bring whoopee cushions to school we absolutely will not be invited to plan anything else ever again.
Wow! I just had another great thought! Imagine how effectively I can embarrass my kids by running for President!
I can see the headlines now: “Un-cool Mom Wins Primary Based on Universal Hatred of Game-boy.”
Whatever Game-boy is.
I’m a cinch to be elected because my platform is so terrific.
No more hand-held technology for people under age to vote.
Of course, I’ll only be an incumbent as long as the next generation is under-age. I can’t even tell you the name of these so-called games; these new-fangled toys that give the kids carpel tunnel syndrome in their thumbs.
Have you noticed that modern games all have initials? Every time my son begs for them yet again, I have no idea what he is talking about.
There he is, asking me for PSPs, X-Boxes, and blah, blah, blahs, and I think we are discussing his spelling homework.
Whatever happened to games with names that normal, alphabet-challenged people could understand?
I definitely have developed a game aversion. So, how did I end up in charge of games for a recent school party? Good question.
Each and every year, my son volunteers me to be homeroom mom. Each and every year, I un-volunteer myself. I just couldn’t do that to his teachers; I respect them too much.
Some moms are known for their organizational skills; some of us are not. I recently got asked to help with a party, even though I was way down on the list, you understand. The other moms were desperate.
Some of us normally bring chips or cookies to these events, something the other mothers can get along without in case we forget again. In all these years, it never occurred to me to actually notice what the activities were at the parties.
Naturally, I planned games for this particular event.
Marbles, Jacks, and a fast-paced card game called Pounce. Pounce must not be on any electronic devices yet because it turned out the kids had no idea how to play it.
Of course, most moms would know that it is a terrifically un-cool to plan a party at school around such old-fashioned, un-electronic games.
On the other hand, my children are pretty well-adjusted to the fact that their mother is the most un-cool human on the planet. And I am totally proud of it too, I might add.
It turns out that some of the kids in his class are not as versed in coolness as my son. They actually loved Marbles, Jacks, and Pounce.
They liked the games so much that we sent them home with the toys and cards so they could teach their siblings how to play.
Un-cool moms unite! We might be onto something here.
So, here are the games I’m taking to the next party at school.
-Paddle balls
-Chinese Checkers
-Badminton
-Whiffle Ball
Someone told me that elementary schools are no longer allowed to teach soft ball on campus because anger management and baseball bats don’t mix well. Too many bullies.
We had bullies back in the dark ages when I was in school. Kids of our era had survival skills, I guess. We knew which kids to trust with a bat.
So, my fellow Americans, I am calling on all un-cool moms to restore America’s favorite pastime to the next generation: Teach whiffle ball at the next school party. I think hotdogs could replace the cookies and chips, too, by the way.
I also like whoopee cushions. They are funny. In a very elementary school kind of way.
Whoopee cushions have an added benefit; I’m pretty sure if we bring whoopee cushions to school we absolutely will not be invited to plan anything else ever again.
Wow! I just had another great thought! Imagine how effectively I can embarrass my kids by running for President!
I can see the headlines now: “Un-cool Mom Wins Primary Based on Universal Hatred of Game-boy.”
Whatever Game-boy is.
Momentary Flashes of Brilliamce
It is tough being surrounded by brilliance.
How would you like to be the child that could be counted on to forget your purse at the restaurant?
Or the wife whose motto is, “Nice people always find my stuff.”
Occasionally, I get a glimpse of what it would be like to have a memory.
I had one of those momentarily brilliant flashes recently.
“Is there anything I can bring home for you?” I asked my married daughter over the phone as I was leaving her old apartment where her sister still lives.
“Ooh. Could you take my bike to your house?”
Please understand, the bike had been there so long that there were vines growing over the tires until it is in danger of becoming a bicycle-shaped topiary. Very artistic.
Usually it is me with the artistic habit of forgetting things indefinitely.
My real friends volunteer helpful information all the time. Important information, like today is the day your son needs to turn in his science project. Or tomorrow is the deadline for your article.
I smiled as I loaded the rusty bike into the back end of my SUV. I felt gratified.
You know the feeling?
It must be the same as making the hoop from midcourt in the final seconds of the game. Whoosh!
Or being the first in the class to shout out the right answer to a math problem. Any math problem. Even if you are an adult visiting your child’s 5th grade math class, not that I am admitting that I have ever done that.
There are advantages to being forgetful, for instance, my children have really low expectations.
Some of my greatest moments in their young lives are the days when we arrived at school and realized that they were all wearing shoes at the same time on each and every foot. Not only that, but they all had socks on each foot, too. And mom was wearing shoes, too.
I always gave myself bonus points if I just got there with each child.
“Where are you mom?” asked an irritated voice calling from the school at 3:15 the other day.
“Isn’t this the day you have a private music lesson with your teacher?” I responded sweetly.
“Oh, yeah. I better go. Bye.”
And mom scores!
I consider it my ministry to make other people feel good about themselves.
So, for instance, if you feel like a failure when it comes to keeping your house clean, you are invited to my house. I have all kinds of original housekeeping solutions.
I would write them down in a list for you, but that would require me to remember what they are. Or even what we were talking about.
How would you like to be the child that could be counted on to forget your purse at the restaurant?
Or the wife whose motto is, “Nice people always find my stuff.”
Occasionally, I get a glimpse of what it would be like to have a memory.
I had one of those momentarily brilliant flashes recently.
“Is there anything I can bring home for you?” I asked my married daughter over the phone as I was leaving her old apartment where her sister still lives.
“Ooh. Could you take my bike to your house?”
Please understand, the bike had been there so long that there were vines growing over the tires until it is in danger of becoming a bicycle-shaped topiary. Very artistic.
Usually it is me with the artistic habit of forgetting things indefinitely.
My real friends volunteer helpful information all the time. Important information, like today is the day your son needs to turn in his science project. Or tomorrow is the deadline for your article.
I smiled as I loaded the rusty bike into the back end of my SUV. I felt gratified.
You know the feeling?
It must be the same as making the hoop from midcourt in the final seconds of the game. Whoosh!
Or being the first in the class to shout out the right answer to a math problem. Any math problem. Even if you are an adult visiting your child’s 5th grade math class, not that I am admitting that I have ever done that.
There are advantages to being forgetful, for instance, my children have really low expectations.
Some of my greatest moments in their young lives are the days when we arrived at school and realized that they were all wearing shoes at the same time on each and every foot. Not only that, but they all had socks on each foot, too. And mom was wearing shoes, too.
I always gave myself bonus points if I just got there with each child.
“Where are you mom?” asked an irritated voice calling from the school at 3:15 the other day.
“Isn’t this the day you have a private music lesson with your teacher?” I responded sweetly.
“Oh, yeah. I better go. Bye.”
And mom scores!
I consider it my ministry to make other people feel good about themselves.
So, for instance, if you feel like a failure when it comes to keeping your house clean, you are invited to my house. I have all kinds of original housekeeping solutions.
I would write them down in a list for you, but that would require me to remember what they are. Or even what we were talking about.
Tyler is Bustling with Fun
Back in the 60’s and 70’s, the young people liked to complain that there was nothing to do in Tyler.
In those days, Tyler wasn’t exactly a one stoplight town, but let’s just say that the street lights went to blink mode after 10:00 p.m. That’s a fact. If you are old enough to remember when small children could safely ride bikes on Loop 323, then, like me, you are getting old, my friend. Even way back then Tyler had two golf courses.
These days, Tyler is bustling. There are so many things to do that it is nearly impossible to list them all. So I put together the eclectic list of things I like best about my old home town.
#1 $2 roses sold by street vendors. Why not buy 10 dozen?
#2 Dance lessons with Sal. Sal Landerus is not paying me for endorsing his lessons, but he really ought to get some benefit from trying to turn a duck into a swan on the dance floor. As I tripped through the lessons my husband gave me for Christmas, I discovered that even if a person never learns to dance just trying is invigorating.
#3 The Freeman’s collection of sculptures. At 1520 Rice Road, Chris Freeman, a dentist by trade, and his wife have created and installed a collection of about twelve pieces. If you have developed an appreciation for contemporary art, you will be thankful for what they have made available to anyone willing to walk to the back of his office.
#4 Water skiing on Lake Tyler. Find some friends with a boat and make them take you skiing because Lake Tyler, now that the drought is over, is once again the prime spot for jumping a wake.
#5 Take a class at TJC. My favorites are Spanish, welding, or anything in the Art Department. Why not come to town one or two nights a week and add a skill to your resume or chase a dream? Anyway, being in town for class gives you a perfect excuse to take in some of the other adventures on this list.
#6 Marvin United Methodist Church. Find your way into the sanctuary downtown and take a moment to savor the beauty of their stain glass windows, not to mention the carved, wooden panels and pews. It won’t cost you a thing, but time and a little reverence.
#7 Scuba. Men love this sport because once they complete the course, they are then required to purchase lots of expensive new gadgets. I suppose this is a good place to mention golf again, speaking of expensive hobbies.
#8 Farm-fresh produce. Aren’t we blessed to live in a place where there is always something fresh from the farms around East Texas? Right now, tomatoes are still on some vines and there are pumpkins to look forward to.
#9 Eat out. With so many restaurants to choose from it seems unfair to name any. Here are my favorites; all locally owned: Potpourri House, The Peking, El Charro, Pico De Gallo, The Tortilla Factory, The Noonday Store, and Bruno’s.
#10 The Obvious. I can’t imagine that there is any child in East Texas who has missed the following fabulous museums and sights, but just in case, be sure to visit Caldwell Zoo, Tyler Museum of Art, Brookshire’s Wildlife Museum and Country Store, Goodman Museum, The Rose Garden, and last, but not least, Discovery Science Place.
With its historic homes, cultural variety, beautiful parks, great restaurants and great shopping, Tyler is a perfect place to take a mini vacation before school starts. Or clip this list and stow it in your dash. Then, next time you have to go to Tyler for business or appointments, let it inspire you to make an adventure out of an ordinary trip to town.
Either way, I hope these ideas will encourage you to take another look at a beautiful East Texas destination.
Now, if my readers will send me their ideas about the courses they love, I will make amends for not knowing a thing about golf, by creating a “Readers’ Favorite East Texas Golf Courses List.”
In those days, Tyler wasn’t exactly a one stoplight town, but let’s just say that the street lights went to blink mode after 10:00 p.m. That’s a fact. If you are old enough to remember when small children could safely ride bikes on Loop 323, then, like me, you are getting old, my friend. Even way back then Tyler had two golf courses.
These days, Tyler is bustling. There are so many things to do that it is nearly impossible to list them all. So I put together the eclectic list of things I like best about my old home town.
#1 $2 roses sold by street vendors. Why not buy 10 dozen?
#2 Dance lessons with Sal. Sal Landerus is not paying me for endorsing his lessons, but he really ought to get some benefit from trying to turn a duck into a swan on the dance floor. As I tripped through the lessons my husband gave me for Christmas, I discovered that even if a person never learns to dance just trying is invigorating.
#3 The Freeman’s collection of sculptures. At 1520 Rice Road, Chris Freeman, a dentist by trade, and his wife have created and installed a collection of about twelve pieces. If you have developed an appreciation for contemporary art, you will be thankful for what they have made available to anyone willing to walk to the back of his office.
#4 Water skiing on Lake Tyler. Find some friends with a boat and make them take you skiing because Lake Tyler, now that the drought is over, is once again the prime spot for jumping a wake.
#5 Take a class at TJC. My favorites are Spanish, welding, or anything in the Art Department. Why not come to town one or two nights a week and add a skill to your resume or chase a dream? Anyway, being in town for class gives you a perfect excuse to take in some of the other adventures on this list.
#6 Marvin United Methodist Church. Find your way into the sanctuary downtown and take a moment to savor the beauty of their stain glass windows, not to mention the carved, wooden panels and pews. It won’t cost you a thing, but time and a little reverence.
#7 Scuba. Men love this sport because once they complete the course, they are then required to purchase lots of expensive new gadgets. I suppose this is a good place to mention golf again, speaking of expensive hobbies.
#8 Farm-fresh produce. Aren’t we blessed to live in a place where there is always something fresh from the farms around East Texas? Right now, tomatoes are still on some vines and there are pumpkins to look forward to.
#9 Eat out. With so many restaurants to choose from it seems unfair to name any. Here are my favorites; all locally owned: Potpourri House, The Peking, El Charro, Pico De Gallo, The Tortilla Factory, The Noonday Store, and Bruno’s.
#10 The Obvious. I can’t imagine that there is any child in East Texas who has missed the following fabulous museums and sights, but just in case, be sure to visit Caldwell Zoo, Tyler Museum of Art, Brookshire’s Wildlife Museum and Country Store, Goodman Museum, The Rose Garden, and last, but not least, Discovery Science Place.
With its historic homes, cultural variety, beautiful parks, great restaurants and great shopping, Tyler is a perfect place to take a mini vacation before school starts. Or clip this list and stow it in your dash. Then, next time you have to go to Tyler for business or appointments, let it inspire you to make an adventure out of an ordinary trip to town.
Either way, I hope these ideas will encourage you to take another look at a beautiful East Texas destination.
Now, if my readers will send me their ideas about the courses they love, I will make amends for not knowing a thing about golf, by creating a “Readers’ Favorite East Texas Golf Courses List.”
Attention Motorcycle Mamas
Attention all Motorcycle Mamas. Now is the time to straddle a bike with your leather-lovin’ sweetheart and rumble on down the highway. Brmm, brmmm….
I couldn’t help but be jealous as my chunky SUV pulled up next to a revved up couple on their shiny black and chrome horse recently in Bastrop, Texas.
There’s a glorious little historic triangle between Bastrop, Goliad, and Victoria that just begs for the feel of the wind in your face. Every turn in the road brings new vistas of green Texas farmland complete with quaint farm houses, camera-worthy courthouses and libraries, and, for lovers of colonial art, Catholic missions and cathedrals.
On the way home, travel Hwy 237 between La Grange and Brenham, for scenery that is something like a mix between the 1800s and First Monday, centered around Round Top, but spreading out for miles along the highway.
If you take to the trail in Central Texas don’t miss these memory-making experiences:
-Bastrop’s main street, which is lined with historic store-fronts now showcasing boutiques, antique stores, and cafes, feels like Jesse James could show up any minute.
The Bastrop Visitor’s Center, in a bank building from the 1800s, has maps and local history lessons dating back to 1821 when Stephen F. Austin first formed his “Little Colony.” It will be no trouble finding a place to park your bike so you can wander the tree-shaded streets hoping to experience any ghosts from this town’s historic past.
-The Mission Espiritu Santo, with kid-friendly exhibits and folks weaving cloth from cotton and wool, was home to Franciscan friars who, after daring attempts to convert cannibalistic tribes, made their home in the beautiful sunlit mission near Goliad from 1749. It is the same spot where Santa Anna once led his troops up the steep limestone incline of the San Antonio River to attack the Texicans.
-Rumble through Victoria’s downtown, pausing to visit the courthouse and the Catholic Cathedral.
- Someone should give those folks in Round Top a medal! Just when we thought Texas was turning into one big metroplex, here’s a whole community of folks caringly preserving the wooden farmhouses of the 1800s along a single-lane, country highway cutting through green, grassy farmland.
Round Top hosts internationally respected musicians on a monthly or weekly basis, thanks to the James Dick Foundation for the Performing Arts, plus, there’s shopping.
They also claim to be one of the “Top 100 Arts Small Towns in America” and I, for one, can’t think of a better excuse to return for a weekend and verify personally that they are telling the truth.
With all that open air and open road, not to mention music, architecture, and culture is it any wonder that even SUV Mamas find their pulse racing? Brmmm…
I couldn’t help but be jealous as my chunky SUV pulled up next to a revved up couple on their shiny black and chrome horse recently in Bastrop, Texas.
There’s a glorious little historic triangle between Bastrop, Goliad, and Victoria that just begs for the feel of the wind in your face. Every turn in the road brings new vistas of green Texas farmland complete with quaint farm houses, camera-worthy courthouses and libraries, and, for lovers of colonial art, Catholic missions and cathedrals.
On the way home, travel Hwy 237 between La Grange and Brenham, for scenery that is something like a mix between the 1800s and First Monday, centered around Round Top, but spreading out for miles along the highway.
If you take to the trail in Central Texas don’t miss these memory-making experiences:
-Bastrop’s main street, which is lined with historic store-fronts now showcasing boutiques, antique stores, and cafes, feels like Jesse James could show up any minute.
The Bastrop Visitor’s Center, in a bank building from the 1800s, has maps and local history lessons dating back to 1821 when Stephen F. Austin first formed his “Little Colony.” It will be no trouble finding a place to park your bike so you can wander the tree-shaded streets hoping to experience any ghosts from this town’s historic past.
-The Mission Espiritu Santo, with kid-friendly exhibits and folks weaving cloth from cotton and wool, was home to Franciscan friars who, after daring attempts to convert cannibalistic tribes, made their home in the beautiful sunlit mission near Goliad from 1749. It is the same spot where Santa Anna once led his troops up the steep limestone incline of the San Antonio River to attack the Texicans.
-Rumble through Victoria’s downtown, pausing to visit the courthouse and the Catholic Cathedral.
- Someone should give those folks in Round Top a medal! Just when we thought Texas was turning into one big metroplex, here’s a whole community of folks caringly preserving the wooden farmhouses of the 1800s along a single-lane, country highway cutting through green, grassy farmland.
Round Top hosts internationally respected musicians on a monthly or weekly basis, thanks to the James Dick Foundation for the Performing Arts, plus, there’s shopping.
They also claim to be one of the “Top 100 Arts Small Towns in America” and I, for one, can’t think of a better excuse to return for a weekend and verify personally that they are telling the truth.
With all that open air and open road, not to mention music, architecture, and culture is it any wonder that even SUV Mamas find their pulse racing? Brmmm…
Attention Motorcycle Mamas
Attention all Motorcycle Mamas. Now is the time to straddle a bike with your leather-lovin’ sweetheart and rumble on down the highway. Brmm, brmmm….
I couldn’t help but be jealous as my chunky SUV pulled up next to a revved up couple on their shiny black and chrome horse recently in Bastrop, Texas.
There’s a glorious little historic triangle between Bastrop, Goliad, and Victoria that just begs for the feel of the wind in your face. Every turn in the road brings new vistas of green Texas farmland complete with quaint farm houses, camera-worthy courthouses and libraries, and, for lovers of colonial art, Catholic missions and cathedrals.
On the way home, travel Hwy 237 between La Grange and Brenham, for scenery that is something like a mix between the 1800s and First Monday, centered around Round Top, but spreading out for miles along the highway.
If you take to the trail in Central Texas don’t miss these memory-making experiences:
-Bastrop’s main street, which is lined with historic store-fronts now showcasing boutiques, antique stores, and cafes, feels like Jesse James could show up any minute.
The Bastrop Visitor’s Center, in a bank building from the 1800s, has maps and local history lessons dating back to 1821 when Stephen F. Austin first formed his “Little Colony.” It will be no trouble finding a place to park your bike so you can wander the tree-shaded streets hoping to experience any ghosts from this town’s historic past.
-The Mission Espiritu Santo, with kid-friendly exhibits and folks weaving cloth from cotton and wool, was home to Franciscan friars who, after daring attempts to convert cannibalistic tribes, made their home in the beautiful sunlit mission near Goliad from 1749. It is the same spot where Santa Anna once led his troops up the steep limestone incline of the San Antonio River to attack the Texicans.
-Rumble through Victoria’s downtown, pausing to visit the courthouse and the Catholic Cathedral.
- Someone should give those folks in Round Top a medal! Just when we thought Texas was turning into one big metroplex, here’s a whole community of folks caringly preserving the wooden farmhouses of the 1800s along a single-lane, country highway cutting through green, grassy farmland.
Round Top hosts internationally respected musicians on a monthly or weekly basis, thanks to the James Dick Foundation for the Performing Arts, plus, there’s shopping.
They also claim to be one of the “Top 100 Arts Small Towns in America” and I, for one, can’t think of a better excuse to return for a weekend and verify personally that they are telling the truth.
With all that open air and open road, not to mention music, architecture, and culture is it any wonder that even SUV Mamas find their pulse racing? Brmmm…
I couldn’t help but be jealous as my chunky SUV pulled up next to a revved up couple on their shiny black and chrome horse recently in Bastrop, Texas.
There’s a glorious little historic triangle between Bastrop, Goliad, and Victoria that just begs for the feel of the wind in your face. Every turn in the road brings new vistas of green Texas farmland complete with quaint farm houses, camera-worthy courthouses and libraries, and, for lovers of colonial art, Catholic missions and cathedrals.
On the way home, travel Hwy 237 between La Grange and Brenham, for scenery that is something like a mix between the 1800s and First Monday, centered around Round Top, but spreading out for miles along the highway.
If you take to the trail in Central Texas don’t miss these memory-making experiences:
-Bastrop’s main street, which is lined with historic store-fronts now showcasing boutiques, antique stores, and cafes, feels like Jesse James could show up any minute.
The Bastrop Visitor’s Center, in a bank building from the 1800s, has maps and local history lessons dating back to 1821 when Stephen F. Austin first formed his “Little Colony.” It will be no trouble finding a place to park your bike so you can wander the tree-shaded streets hoping to experience any ghosts from this town’s historic past.
-The Mission Espiritu Santo, with kid-friendly exhibits and folks weaving cloth from cotton and wool, was home to Franciscan friars who, after daring attempts to convert cannibalistic tribes, made their home in the beautiful sunlit mission near Goliad from 1749. It is the same spot where Santa Anna once led his troops up the steep limestone incline of the San Antonio River to attack the Texicans.
-Rumble through Victoria’s downtown, pausing to visit the courthouse and the Catholic Cathedral.
- Someone should give those folks in Round Top a medal! Just when we thought Texas was turning into one big metroplex, here’s a whole community of folks caringly preserving the wooden farmhouses of the 1800s along a single-lane, country highway cutting through green, grassy farmland.
Round Top hosts internationally respected musicians on a monthly or weekly basis, thanks to the James Dick Foundation for the Performing Arts, plus, there’s shopping.
They also claim to be one of the “Top 100 Arts Small Towns in America” and I, for one, can’t think of a better excuse to return for a weekend and verify personally that they are telling the truth.
With all that open air and open road, not to mention music, architecture, and culture is it any wonder that even SUV Mamas find their pulse racing? Brmmm…
Going International? Go Lightly
Who can stand the airport these days?
Wouldn’t it be great if teleporting were not just the stuff of science fiction? What a dream to travel internationally, or even in the US, without the hassle of baggage checks and baggage handlers!
My personal philosophy is “If it doesn’t fit in my back pack, it doesn‘t make the trip!”
What can I say? I’m sorry, I have trust issues. The idea of strangers rifling through my luggage behind the scenes makes me shudder. I refuse to check baggage.
When I was growing up, my parents had their own hard and fast rule for travel, “You bring it, you carry it!”
All of which adds up to make me a very light packer.
There are plenty of things you can do to lighten your suitcase. Here are some ideas for how to pack for a two week vacation in a small rolling suitcase that fits under the seat, plus a back pack:
-Only go to the beach. Just kidding.
-Always pack your swim suit in your purse. Seriously. Why would you take a chance with the item that is the most difficult thing in the world to fit? It represents hours spent in the dressing room, why would you trust it to behind the scenes Baggage Riflers? Not that they would actually want to steal a middle-aged woman’s swim suit, I’m not paranoid, well, but you never know.
-Put your purse in your back pack, along with a small book, a small camera, a paper back novel, and your zip lock bag of liquids.
-Wear a versatile, comfortable jacket and your walking shoes on the plane. Wearing them will free up room in your suitcase, plus the temperature on the plane will always be predictably unpredictable.
-Speaking of shoes, tennis shoes and baseball caps may mark you as an American. Take a hat, but choose one that can be shoved in a pocket and come out retaining its shape.
-Bring cheap, neutral clothes that you can leave behind when you return home.
-Leave your good jewelry at home and invest $5 dollars or less in something fun, colorful, sparkly, and obviously fake. Take sparkly flip flops to match for the beach or a short walk to dinner.
- Get a haircut and leave the curlers at home, along with all the other appliances Americans think they need. Take a vacation from hours spent getting ready and experience natural glamour.
-Pack a fold up duffle bag in the bottom of your suitcase. When it’s time to come home, put your souvenirs, and your swim suits of course, in the duffel and carry them on the plane. Then, it is okay to check your rolling suitcase full of your dirty, cheap clothes.
If you have more practical ideas about international travel or light packing to share, I would love to pass them on.
Wouldn’t it be great if teleporting were not just the stuff of science fiction? What a dream to travel internationally, or even in the US, without the hassle of baggage checks and baggage handlers!
My personal philosophy is “If it doesn’t fit in my back pack, it doesn‘t make the trip!”
What can I say? I’m sorry, I have trust issues. The idea of strangers rifling through my luggage behind the scenes makes me shudder. I refuse to check baggage.
When I was growing up, my parents had their own hard and fast rule for travel, “You bring it, you carry it!”
All of which adds up to make me a very light packer.
There are plenty of things you can do to lighten your suitcase. Here are some ideas for how to pack for a two week vacation in a small rolling suitcase that fits under the seat, plus a back pack:
-Only go to the beach. Just kidding.
-Always pack your swim suit in your purse. Seriously. Why would you take a chance with the item that is the most difficult thing in the world to fit? It represents hours spent in the dressing room, why would you trust it to behind the scenes Baggage Riflers? Not that they would actually want to steal a middle-aged woman’s swim suit, I’m not paranoid, well, but you never know.
-Put your purse in your back pack, along with a small book, a small camera, a paper back novel, and your zip lock bag of liquids.
-Wear a versatile, comfortable jacket and your walking shoes on the plane. Wearing them will free up room in your suitcase, plus the temperature on the plane will always be predictably unpredictable.
-Speaking of shoes, tennis shoes and baseball caps may mark you as an American. Take a hat, but choose one that can be shoved in a pocket and come out retaining its shape.
-Bring cheap, neutral clothes that you can leave behind when you return home.
-Leave your good jewelry at home and invest $5 dollars or less in something fun, colorful, sparkly, and obviously fake. Take sparkly flip flops to match for the beach or a short walk to dinner.
- Get a haircut and leave the curlers at home, along with all the other appliances Americans think they need. Take a vacation from hours spent getting ready and experience natural glamour.
-Pack a fold up duffle bag in the bottom of your suitcase. When it’s time to come home, put your souvenirs, and your swim suits of course, in the duffel and carry them on the plane. Then, it is okay to check your rolling suitcase full of your dirty, cheap clothes.
If you have more practical ideas about international travel or light packing to share, I would love to pass them on.
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