Grace and Stature

We reach an age when we measure years by the stature of the children we know. Has it been six months already we gasp when we run into a friend with a new baby. Can that be that the same curly headed child that used to stand on tiptoes at the counter we ask as we look up into the face of a teenager that is now taller than we are. I ran into one of my old friends recently. We were young once. She was third grade teacher to both my daughters. Many of our family’s favorite stories from their childhood happened in her classroom; learning with her was such a gentle, joyful, communal experience. Denise also taught our son-in-law. He was five years older than my daughter and already in junior high when our daughter reached third grade. The future lovebirds were oblivious to each other in those days of pre-pubescent, elementary learning. It is magical to look back at the process of growing up with the perspective of an old person. Not only your own childhood, but also your kids’ childhoods takes on a quality of foreshadowing in retrospect as you consider the way things unfold. To our family, there is something almost time-warped about Denise’s third grade classroom now. Denise grinned affectionately and shook her head, as if in bewilderment, at the thought of those two little ones, now all grown up and creating a home together. They are perfect for each other, opposites balancing each other out by delightful design, but who knew it back then? In third grade, his gangly legs, like the sprouting limbs of all little boys tucked under a miniature desk, were jittery, stillness eluding them ever few seconds. His mind struggled to focus while he was trying not to daydream about after school adventures with his brothers. A few years later, our daughter sat in the same classroom, her eager mind soaking up history and reading, always in the moment. I can easily picture her, like so many third-grade girls, with her hand raised, eager with an answer and a joyous smile. Her younger sister followed close behind, soaking up math and science, creating soccer anthems out of hymns on the playground with a close friend who is also all grown up now. As we age, we get to teach our kiddoes to extend grace to one another in school. Because we remember our own childhood and the idiosyncrasies of the kids we shared it with, we understand how those stories unfold. My son-in-law tells me that his clearest memory of third grade was the day his dad accidentally let a rat snake loose in Denise’s classroom. They don’t pay teachers enough. Perhaps one of the best rewards of experience is knowing how some of the stories turn out. Seeing kiddoes grow in grace and stature, a reward of age. Cathy Primer Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, lives and writes with a Texas twang. Comments are invited at checklistcharlie.blogspot.com.

Empty Suitcases

We only keep what we give away.
When a young mom gave birth to her first son, she received lots of presents from friends who knew she didn’t have anything for a boy.
One gift stood out, though. Rather than buy a gift, this friend, the mother of two older boys, went to her own sentimental box and gift-wrapped a Baby’s First Christmas bib and a beautiful piece of art from her own nursery.
A few months later, at the crack of dawn, the young mother received a phone call. The friend’s house had burned down in the night.
In the days that followed, it became clear that the only mementos her friend would be able to retrieve, like pictures of her children, were going to be the ones she had given away to grandparents and friends, including a bib and a piece of art from her own nursery.
I know this is a true story because my friend gave me the bib and the art when my son was born.
Recently, a lady told me a story about her husband, which illustrates the truth about hilarious giving.
This family makes regular trips to a beloved third world country, but on their first trip, they were overwhelmed by all the physical needs that go unmet daily in that place.
As they were packing to return home that first time, her husband suddenly flipped over his suitcase and dumped all the contents on the bed.
“We are giving this all away,” he announced with excitement.
Knowing how Americans travel, I can easily imagine a suitcase stuffed with blue jeans, t-shirts, button-downs, and several pairs of shoes, all things of extreme value in a country where people often go hungry and barefoot.
Having made many friends in the weeks they were there, they immediately found folks who received the goods joyously.
“Who wants this shirt? Who needs flip flops?”
Imagine the excitement as they tossed each item across a room crowded with folks who had gathered to see them off.
Her husband left with empty suitcases, but I bet his heart was full.
And imagine how he blessed his own wife and kiddoes.
We only keep what we give away.
Cathy Primer Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, lives and writes with a Texas twang. Comments are invited at checklistcharlie.blogspot.com.

The Television Set

Who uses the phrase “television set” anymore?
“Do you know what a television set is,” I asked my twenty-something daughter as I paused my typing in midsentence.
If you know what a television set is, you are probably an old person like me.
I am picturing a set of televisions, like a set of flatware.
Oh yeah, young people may not know what flatware is either.
So why did my family always say television set?
Was it because in the old days the television came with a set of speakers?
Nah. I remember our first television set. It was not that fancy.
A small 12-inch screen, encased in a sturdy cream-colored plastic box with rounded corners, it was the height of space-aged technology to us.
We were amazed it had pictures, albeit black and white ones.
“How did they get into the box all the way from Hollywood?” we asked my dad.
Dad proceeded to explain something I still to this day don’t get: air waves.
In the 60s, the first TVs all came with their own little spindly-legged stand made of chromed metal and some antennae-like things that were attached with wires. And covered with aluminum foil. The stand was necessary because the television set needed to be high enough to be seen.
Maybe having a stand and bunny ears made it a set.
Maybe it was a set because it just “set thar.”
Okay, it didn’t just sit there; the screen was so small we had to wheel it in close enough to actually see it. That was in the days before remote controls were invented, so close was convenient for kids squatting on the floor in front of the television set.
Finally, mom and dad purchased the ultimate luxury item, a television set big enough to be seen across the room and ensconced in a luxurious maple-like piece of furniture.
In living color, no less.
My grandparents got a color television set before we did and so we were already aware that Lawrence Welk was just as boring in color as in black and white.
Naturally, at our house we immediately switched the channel, without the help of a remote control, to The Rifleman and Bonanza for action-packed western adventure.
Ahh, the 60s, the age of fabulous television, free of the self-consciousness of any reality programming at all.
By the way for any youngsters out there, flatware is the same thing as “silverware,” which is probably not sterling, but merely looks silvery.
You know, your knife, fork and spoon. I am not sure if plasticware qualifies. In fact, I’m not sure it was invented when I was a kid.
Cathy Primer Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, lives and writes with a Texas twang. Comments are invited at checklistcharlie.blogspot.com.

Premarital Sex? Not really.

There is no such thing as premarital sex.
“How does God define marriage?” asked a wise friend one day.
I never would have thought of asking such a thing. I was too busy accepting the status quo.
“Isn’t it somewhere in the Old Testament?” I asked, even though I couldn’t think of a place. “Leviticus maybe?”
I figure if I don’t remember it, it’s probably in Leviticus.
Think of how important the answer to that question is.
For instance, if we got our doctrine straight on this issue, the issue of same sex marriage would not have ever come up in American politics.
Oh sure, folks who think of themselves as gay would still need legal protection from rude people.
But, marriage is not defined by a legal document. The state actually has very little authority in this arena.
In fact, the laws in place are only necessary because humans tend to be exceptionally rude to each other, including sometime being exceptionally rude to the people they love.
The church has no authority over the arena of marriage either, although most Christians wouldn’t dream of having a wedding without a preacher.
So who defines marriage and when does it take place?
Can you think of a place in the Old Testament where the Bible offers us a format for wedding ceremonies?
What about a place anywhere in the New Testament where the government’s legal responsibilities are described.
I’m just saying.
So, what did my friend say when I guessed Leviticus?
“Cathy, think about it. What did Jesus say about marriage?” This friend is always the epitome of patience and compassion for me in my ignorance.
“The two shall become one flesh?” I guessed again.
Bingo!
Okay, then I had to think about it a whole year before I admitted that she was correct.
Some things are just too obvious to be true, right?
By the way, there is no such thing as premarital sex.
Cathy Primer Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, lives and writes with a Texas twang. Comments are invited at checklistcharlie.blogspot.com.

Surviving Your Siblings

I have an awesome younger sister and brother.
You could have seen the beginnings of who my siblings are now, if you had known us way back when we were kids.
Among other things, my brother is energetic, tender, and funny.
My sister is loyal, attentive, and thoughtful. We always say she fills up a room with her laughter.
We were also very creative children, so my poor mom had a hard time staying ahead of our mischief. Especially me.
Basically, I thought as the oldest it was my job to totally subjugate the other younger two.
No matter how many bad habits you have left over from your childhood, there are there are some easy things you can do to repair the damage as adults.
Number one; understand that God designed the family of our youth as a training ground for leadership.
Good leaders know that women need to be valued by having appreciation expressed for them. Men need to be valued by being treated respectfully. Understanding that your siblings need to be valued can go along way to repairing the damage.
Number two; recognize that your siblings were designed for God’s purpose in their adult lives. The traits that annoyed you when you were all immature were put there for a purpose. Making a list of all the things that annoyed you as a child may help you recognize how great those traits are in adults.
Number three; remember to parent your own kids, but not theirs.
Since we were the first to have kids in our generation of our family, we got plenty of inexperienced, unwanted advice. We learned to respect God’s leadership and to trust our siblings to make wise decisions when their kiddoes came along. We try to offer encouragement only.
Cain is the poster child for destructive sibling rivalry, isn’t he?
“That’s not fair!” he shouted, like an immature brat, when God explained the consequences for killing his brother.
The guy kills his brother and he has the nerve to tell God that the consequences are not fair. What a problem child!
I can imagine God thinking, I designed that kid with boldness and look how he talks back to Me.
Just like Abel couldn’t fix Cain, as adults sometimes we can’t fix our relationships with our siblings.
Murder is not cool.
Sometimes surviving is enough.
Cathy Primer Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, lives and writes with a Texas twang. Comments are invited at checklistcharlie.blogspot.com.

Heroic Mothers

You won’t read about her in history books.
In fact, you almost wouldn’t read about her at all, except for one small thing; her son mentioned her. I was interviewing her son and daughter-in-law about their experiences growing up in segregated East Texas for a series I am doing on African American high schools in our region.
It turns out his mom sowed the seeds of justice in his heart in the 1950s when he was just a young kid.
What she did was simple.
She loaded up a pickup truck with every brave soul she could find who would participate in her well-intentioned misadventure.
She was the mother of eleven children; I admire her courage for that alone.
The pickup was loaded with a cargo of humans who were mostly her offspring and a few close friends who didn’t have the heart to say no to this determined woman. The stakes were high for her, based on who was in the back of that truck.
Their small band of parents and children, not much of an army, stormed the Brownsboro school district’s administration building in broad day light, walked right into the Superintendent’s office, and demanded enrollment with the white students of Brownsboro Independent School District.
David and Goliath. No odds maker in his right mind would take that bet.
In fact, nothing much changed.
Some of her neighbors thought she was crazy for stirring up trouble and they didn’t mind telling her so, but that was about it.
Nothing changed, except for the seeds planted in the hearts of her kids.
She didn’t know she was heroic.
Gertrude Cofer Evans of Moore Station, Texas.
Remember that name.
Not because she would want the attention. Not because you’ll ever see it in a history book.
But because she stood up for what was right.
And she taught her kids do so.
Cathy Primer Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, lives and writes with a Texas twang. Comments are invited at checklistcharlie.blogspot.com.

Easter gloves and hats

I am old enough to remember when no one went to Easter Sunday service without gloves and a hat.
Say what you want to about the 60s, but the fashion was historic.
There is something so spiritual for a tiny girl about having to keep beautiful white gloves clean.
No easy assignment.
However, as if to compensate for the responsibility of gloves, there was the incentive of the perfect new straw hat, haloed in ribbon and silk flowers, delicious enough to buzz with tiny, felt bumblebees and butterflies made of silk.
Nothing took the stress out of keeping gloves clean like a perfect Easter bonnet.
Over forty years later, I can’t say that I remember a single Easter Sermon.
In the days before air-conditioning, I do remember concentrating to sit perfectly still as the preacher droned on. And I remember the relief of getting to pop up and sing resurrection’s joyful and thankfully loud choruses.
Even kneeling was a relief on hot, spring Sundays because a breeze might catch you as you prayed.
In fact, the sermons were probably a waste on little ears burdened with the dignity of the proper head attire.
On the other hand, bouncing alive to glorious music accompanied by trumpets was probably the perfect metaphor for the resurrection.
Anyway, that’s the way I remember it.
May your Easter celebration include joyful music, trumpets, short sermons, and lots of children in perfect bonnets.
Cathy Primer Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, lives and writes with a Texas twang. Comments are invited at checklistcharlie.blogspot.com.

Living with Autism

Learning about the Autism Spectrum will be a process for me, but one thing has struck me as I listen; the variety and beauty of God’s design for humans is about as vivid, and, yes, as challenging as any human can imagine.
The following was sent in for you because I asked for help finding ways to let people know about living with Autism.
A day in the life of caring for a 25-year-old son with Autism
By Cynthia Matlock
Having an adult son with Autism is challenging and entertaining.
From a distance my son looks like a typical 6’, 220 lb young man about to cross your path until you question his sudden laughter, song, or repeating a phrase over and over again.
Each day requires thinking, predicting, and planning for behavior triggers that may cause a scene, especially when you go out in the public.
One day I drove to my local grocery store and told him to get out of the car.
He said he would stay in the car.
That’s good, I thought. If I hurry I will not have to worry about losing him in the store.
He loves to just walk around or put a bag of “hot fries” in my buggy.
So I went in, picked up a few things, checked out, and headed back to the car quickly.
When I got to the car he was gone. Imagine the panic.
My hope was he stayed in his routine, which is pacing the store or going to the restroom in the store.
“Routine” is important for those who live with Autism Spectrum. Changing their routine can be a major alteration or frustration to their day and your day.
Luckily he can read and goes in the correct facility, the men’s.
Being a lady, I asked the manager to check if my son was in the men’s restroom. The manager walked in the restroom briefly, came out, and informed me that he was still in there.
I waited outside the door about three or four minutes.
My son has an obsession of admiring himself in a mirror and smiling again and again. Impatiently, I cracked the door and shouted for him to hurry!
I then started walking toward the front of the store. Out the corner of my eye I saw the man, not my son, come out the bathroom.
Then, straight ahead I saw that my son was already going out the front door ahead of me to the car. Realizing my mix up, I made my escape quickly, hoping my flushed face didn’t show.
Oh boy, another day in the life of an adult with Autism.
Some days you just shake your head and smile.
Cathy Primer Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, lives and writes with a Texas twang. Comments are invited at checklistcharlie.blogspot.com.

Slithery snakes, sexual abuse, and being brave

I have a fear of having a snake show up in my garage.
Lest you think I am paranoid, this actually happens in my neighborhood from time to time. If you live in the country, you know what I mean.
I am not afraid of snakes in my yard and have learned to identify the common East Texas varieties.
I know I can take a deep breath, get my shovel, and cut the heads off the venomous varieties. I’ve done it so often that I am confident that I am the smarter, faster adversary.
But there is something so claustrophobic about meeting up with a snake, of any variety, in close quarters. It gives me the creeps and makes my skin crawl.
I have a very beautiful friend who has the cleanest, most ship-shape home I know. She is the last person on earth to find a snake in the garage, especially since she lives right in the heart of Tyler, surrounded by neighbors, neatly fenced yards, and concrete curbing.
Not like out here where we live, surrounded by woods, pastures, and oil top lanes.
One day she found a snake in her domain, all right.
And not in the garage, either.
That snake found his way to her master bedroom and was relaxing near her bed! Imagine the panic.
That was the snake’s final and most deadly activity – for him.
My friend’s brave and dashing grandson had the snake decapitated in no time.
On any given week day, in courtrooms all across the US, victims of sexual abuse are taking the stand to testify, often about close friends and trusted family members.
You may wonder how parents could not notice, but the truth is, just like snakes, sexual predators are sneaky and slithery.
This column is dedicated to the young victims who have the courage to testify.
Thank you for taking another snake out of action.
Cathy Primer Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, lives and writes with a Texas twang. Comments are invited at checklistcharlie.blogspot.com.

Meals on Wheels: Recipe for Service

Fruit salads are one of my favorite treats next to turkey or ham around the holidays.

Another treat is eating at Meals on Wheels.

I bet you didn’t know that Meals on Wheels occasionally hosts club luncheon meetings for organizations interested in knowing more about their efforts.

“Meals on Wheels Ministry, Inc. serves a daily meal to nearly 3,500 frail, homebound senior citizens and disabled persons every weekday in East Texas.

These meals are prepared fresh at the central kitchen located at 3001 Robertson Road, Tyler, TX, “ according to www.mealsonwheelseasttexas.org. “The meals are then home-delivered by compassionate volunteers to eligible persons who cannot provide meals for themselves. Often this is the only meal they will have that day.”

When Mike Powell and his staff served up this fabulous Waldorf salad along with lunch for a recent meeting of the Bethesda Alliance luncheon, I asked for the recipe to share with readers. It’s the best Waldorf I ever put in my mouth.

Monarch Mayonnaise’s Waldorf Salad

2/3 cup dried cranberries

1/2 cup mayonnaise

3 Tbsp. sour cream

2 Tbsp. lemon juice

1 tsp. sugar

4 Granny Smith apples, cut into ½ inch cubes

1 1/3 cup thinly sliced celery

1 1/3 cup red grapes, halved

¼ cup candied pecans, for garnish

Mix all ingredients, except the pecans, together in a mixing bowl, until uniform. Cover and refrigerate until needed. Serve on a bed of fresh bib lettuce. Sprinkle the candied pecans on top for garnish.

While I was munching on lunch, I learned another interesting fact about Meals on Wheals. Did you know that you don’t have to be impoverished to enjoy having a meal delivered to your home? If you have a loved one who could benefit from the service and can afford to pay for the meals, Meals on Wheals will deliver your lunch at a prorated fee.

They even have grateful customers and families who subsidize other, less fortunate customers’ lunches with a regular donation.

Making Meals on Wheels a perfect example of the motto: “Serve people and success will follow.”

In Bullard, the plan is to collaborate with the Bullard library to put in a kitchen that can act as a southern staging point for Meals on Wheels delivery.

If you ask me, this is one more reason to support efforts to build the new library building in Bullard.

To volunteer for Meals on Wheels or for more information, contact Executive Director Mike Powell at 903.593.7385 or go to their website at www.mealsonwheelseasttexas.org.

Cathy Primer Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, lives and writes with a Texas twang. Comments are invited at checklistcharlie.blogspot.com.

Night Before Hunter’s Christmas

I am not much of a poet, as you will see if you read further.

My apologies.

Hunting season and the holidays collide this time every year and all Texas women know what that means.

In case you are giving your husband a utensil useful for hunting, like say a gun, this Christmas, this little ditty can serve as an incentive to send your husband on a scavenger hunt that is sure to entertain your children and other loved ones.

Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house not a creature was stirring not even a mouse.

The children were tucked in and trembling with fear because a cowboy was loose and protecting their gear.

The stockings were hung by the chimney with glee and there was amo beribboned and under the tree.

Other folks get golf clubs, fishing rods, and the occasional book.

Not at this house; no, take another look.

The gun safe is locked with its dangerous load.

Nothing new there, so don’t bother with the code.

With another weapon, we’ll all feel more secure.

You’ll be the envy of all alpha males, that’s for sure.

Burglars, be warned: Best stay out of sight!

This Christmas is protected and locked up tight!

Santa is jolly and his message is blunt:

Merry Christmas to all and to all a safe hunt!

I’m sure my husband is hoping the hunt for a new gun will become an annual Christmas morning tradition.

Personally, I think a good novel and a box of chocolates are more in keeping with the peaceful sentiments of the season.

Bambi agrees with me.

Cathy Primer Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, lives and writes with a Texas twang. Comments are invited at http://checklistcharlie.blogspot.com.

Gun Safety; a Mom’s most-feared the oxymoron

A kid brought a BB gun on a Bullard school bus causing a serious stir on the rumor mill among worried parents, but fortunately no other disturbances.

Thanks to the alert and quick handling by school officials, and some well thought out policies and training, we are not reporting a tragedy in this week’s paper.

When I heard the rumors, my first thought was: There but for the grace of God go I.

My husband was in charge of gun safety at our house because, well, bluntly my dad did such a good job on gun safety over 40 years ago that I am paranoid of guns to this day.

Gun safety is an oxymoron, if you ask me.

Thank heavens God gave my children two parents because my husband has a more judicious, less hysterical approach.

I never worried about our daughters, too much, being hormonally predisposed to a sensible, practical approach to weapons.

In fact, one of our daughters recently finished her Concealed Handgun License, or CHL. I love to brag about her perfect score on the target shooting section of the training.

Her daddy rewarded her by buying her a sleek, small black handgun that looks like a toy. I have no idea how it feels cus I won’t get near it.

Knowing she is licensed to carry actually makes me sleep sounder at night.

My son is getting there, too, but that hasn’t always been the case.

As a 3-year-old, he would slip out of the house and stop traffic with his plastic cowboy pistols. The main danger was to his mother who suffered serious panic attacks on multiple occasions with that kid’s adventures.

Fortunately, the neighbors quickly grew to anticipate the unexpected and graciously proceeded with extreme caution while he outgrew the sheriff stage.

We took the obvious precautions with our guns.

-We locked them in a gun safe with a combination, not a key, lock.

-I insisted on trigger locks on each and every gun inside the safe.

-We kept the ammo in a separate, secure place on the other side of the house.

Our kids know “All guns are always loaded, even the ones you think are unloaded.” They also know to get the heck out of Dodge if they see anyone holding a gun in an unsafe way or place. Run, don’t walk.

We live in Texas. People keep as many guns as they keep Bibles in their homes. And that’s a lot.

But for heaven’s sakes, there are things you can do to keep guns out of the hands of children.

Do so, or suffer serious personal consequences, folks.

Cathy Primer Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, lives and writes with a Texas twang. Comments are invited at checklistcharlie.blogspot.com.

Highway 155 Dives

Okay, folks, the lake is calling East Texans.

Yep, the sun is shining and it’s time to drive the byways, take in the wild flower covered rolling hills, and head to the country. If you are going my way, down Highway 155 towards Lake Palestine, here are the places we love to eat.

Starting at Loop 323 and heading for Frankston:

Scooter Pete’s. Browse past all the motorcycle paraphernalia and belly up at owners Denise “Nisee” and Pete Mauk’s Iron Horse Grill for a fabulous breakfast served ‘til 11pm or order the Andre Burger, a cheeseburger topped with a fried egg, all day long, Mondays through Saturdays. You can order it with a side of some of the best hash browns in East Texas. 903.581.0810

Noonday Store. What would we do without our regular fix of their addictive chicken sandwich smothered in grilled green peppers and onions, their Angus beef hamburgers, or one of their daily plate lunch specials? I get cravings for the cobblers. Order ahead and take homemade yeast rolls for parties. 903.534.9498.

Purple Pig. My favorite thing on the menu is the tender slices of slow-grilled turkey breast, but I bet you’ll also love the barbeque beef, pulled pork, or the random nights when owner Shane Swan boils up crawfish. 903.825.6800.

Star Bar-B-Q. Just past the last bridge, as we say in these parts, don’t blink or you’ll miss Lane Mills’ barbeque joint where ribs etcetera share the grill with pulled pork. They just added a new deck, but check out the recliners inside, too. Cigars are welcome and draft beer is served. 903.876.2209

Lake Palestine Marina. Most romantic destination in our area if your idea of a romantic meal out is a steamy cup of coffee accompanied with a perfect omelet, bacon, and hash browns soaked in ketchup. All with a view of the lake. Larry and his wife have years of experience in the resort business and it shows in their hospitality. 903.825.3600.

Maxwell’s Drug Store. Old folks like me remember when the best place to get a chicken salad sandwich was at the soda shop at any small town pharmacy. The problem is, most modern pharmacies no longer have food counters. Unless you are in Frankston, of course. The Soda Shoppe, at he back of Maxwell’s, features daily lunch specials like homemade chicken enchiladas or baked pork chops, but who can resist their chicken salad? 903.876.2323.

If your idea of a dive is icky, dirty, or out of the way, these spots are not for you. Or if you are looking for honky tonks.

I’m defining “dive” here as unexpected, fun, family-friendly, AND definitely clean; or I’d never talk my husband into stopping.

Our family hopes you support these 155 Dives. See ya there!

Cathy Primer Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, lives and writes with a Texas twang. Comments are invited at http://checklistcharlie.blogspot.com.

Blame Now; Credit Later

“I’ll take the blame now because it will be credit later,” said the father of my children, amidst the protests of an unhappy family including me.

Now we quote him on a regular basis when decisions require a backbone.

My own dad has some gem-dandy ways of making us think.

“Will it matter in two years?” was his favorite response whenever I worried about the trials teenagers face in high school.

When folks are unkind to us now, I quote my dad to my kids as we walk away. “They probably have hemorrhoids,” was his way of telling us as kids to be patient because you never know what personal stuff might be going on in someone’s life to make ‘em cranky.

Since college students often get bogged down in choosing what they believe to be their life-long career, my dad also gave my kiddoes some sage advice when they started college, “Set a goal and change it if you change your mind.” He told them that in the long run they would get farther by moving ahead, rather than wavering in uncertainty.

What are some other favorite words from dads?

"I love you and I'm proud of you!" answered a friend of mine who is well respected in newspaper circles, is an ex-coach, and happens to be a nurturing person himself.

Another well-known and well-loved friend wrote this: "There are many... but first comes to mind the very last words he spoke to me. The day before he died, I was sitting on his hospital bed. He leaned over, hugged me, and said, "I'm proud of you, sugar.""

It seems there is a correlation between nurturing dads and success, doesn’t there?

Speaking of success and wise perspectives, one friend added this: "After dropping by yesterday and getting up to leave (his dad said)- "No need to hurry, why don't you stay a little longer?""

“Are you okay?” is the first question that my husband remembers clearly when as a teenager he called his dad to report that he had just wrecked the car.

Which brings me back to my husband’s comment about blame and credit.

Dads who are willing to take a hit - out of conviction about what is best for their kids - get kudos at the finish line.

Happy Father’s Day to all, especially my own dad.

Cathy Primer Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, lives and writes with a Texas twang. Comments are invited at checklistcharlie.blogspot.com.

How to Raise Faithful Kids

Our family adopted a beautiful, smart black and white Border Collie from a rescue shelter for our son when his big sisters left for college a few years ago.

We brainstormed and came up with a list of fifty or so names, including terrific choices like “Scout” from To Kill a Mockingbird.

“Lucy. I want to name my dog after my wife,” demanded the 8-year-old, proud new owner of man’s best friend.

I’m not sure how that’s going to work out, but the dog’s name is Lucy. Up until that moment, it had also been his prayer nickname for his future spouse.

So, how do you teach a child to care about someone they haven’t met yet?

-Teach your kids the true answers to the question, “How does God define marriage?” This includes answers to questions like, “When is a marriage official in God’s sight?” and “What are God’s purposes for marriage?”

-Don’t wait until they are teenagers to think and talk about their future spouses. Begin today.

-Be reasonable and consistent about dating. All kids need some social interaction, but do they really need to be alone as a couple in a car? Group activities are so much healthier and more practical than pairing up.

-Set a high standard for yourself as a parent. Be strict with yourself about how you interact with your co-workers and friends of the opposite sex.

-Say encouraging things to your kids, like “Your future spouse is out there right this minute” or “Your school friends may be the ones to introduce you to your future spouse” or my personal favorite, “Would you really want your friends telling her that you crushed on every girl in middle school?”

-Have fun as a family. Welcome your children into the social aspects of your life when they are small and they’ll be more likely to include you in their lives when they are teens. Make life fun.

I can’t wait to meet my future daughter-in-law. I just hope her name isn’t really Lucy. It could be awkward.

Cathy Primer Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, lives and writes with a Texas twang. Comments are invited at http://checklistcharlie.blogspot.com.

Dyslexia is a Blessing

Dyslexia is a blessing.

It does not seem that way in 1st and 2nd grade when your child comes home with big red X’s on his paper because he wrote a 2 where his brain was thinking of a 6.

It does not seem that way in 3rd grade when he’s the only one in the classroom who can’t read his assignments so you are spending your weekends catching him up by reading each and every chapter to him out of textbooks.

There was a day when ISD administrations were slow to take up the issue of dyslexia because it represented a new expense, another burden. Fifteen or twenty years ago, a handful of parents fought hard to make special training for dyslexic students happen in our area.

What a blessing for those of us who have come afterward.

Fortunately those parents discovered a fabulous program, developed by Scottish Rite which is now the benchmark for all that followed.

“Dyslexia is a learning disorder that affects approximately 10 percent of children,” according to the Texas Scottish Rite Hospital for Children website, http://www.tsrhc.org/dyslexia-educator-center.htm. “Those diagnosed with dyslexia have trouble connecting sounds to letter symbols. This affects the way children with dyslexia learn to read and spell.”

“Well, no dah!” I would have shouted at my computer screen a few years ago, fearing my son would never read, never keyboard, never have a chance at college.

“Children with dyslexia can learn to read and be successful despite their learning differences. Fortunately, major strides have been made in understanding the language-based disorder, many of them at Texas Scottish Rite Hospital for Children,” says the article.

Dyslexia does not seem like a blessing at first. It seemed overwhelming.

Therein lies the problem: We tend to protect our children from any form of discomfort. Most parents, including me, don’t usually see challenges as a blessing.

Especially if those challenges involve making the parent (me) uncomfortable!

Later, when we begin to see how much fortitude our dyslexic child has gained in the process of learning to compensate, suddenly our viewpoint may start to change.

When we see success.

When we see his willingness to work harder than everybody else. Then the realization dawns that dyslexia has turned out to be a blessing.

Cathy Primer Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, lives and writes with a Texas twang. Comments are invited at http://checklistcharlie.blogspot.com.

Girl Scout Cookies

My New Year’s diet always has an expiration date. It ends March 1.

That’s inevitably when I run into the first Girl Scout Troup selling boxes of temptation outside the grocery store.

You know what I’m talking about. Those adorable girls in their matching costumes, giggling and chatting behind folding tables, working hard to earn money for a good cause; they make succumbing to temptation feel downright righteous.

All of which would NOT be such a high-caloric problem if only I was willing to share.

Let’s face it; those cookies are so addictive that you cannot possibly open a box without eating each and every crumb.

It requires a strategy to get even one cookie once your family discovers that you have purchased a box.

Fortunately, a long and delicious life has taught me a thing or two about getting my fair share of the Girl Scout Cookies.

First, buy at least ten boxes every time you run into the girls. It’s for a good cause.

Second, when you get home wrap all the Thin Mints in brown paper bags and hide them in the back of the freezer.

Next, throw the family off the scent by putting all the Dosidos in plain sight in the front of the freezer.

Finally, put several boxes of Trefoils out on the counter as if you are an unselfish mom who intended to share.

And, just in case your family is onto your tricks, eat a whole box of Thin Mints in the parking lot before you leave the grocery store.

Favorite uses of Girl Scout Cookies:

-Sneaking two boxes into the movie theater on date night (not that I’ve ever done that.)

-Bringing them to school functions with the comment, “You know I don’t cook, but…” Believe me, no one cares that you don’t do homemade.

-Using them as a bribe for just about anything you want your family to do, as in “There could be a box of Girl Scout Cookies in it for you if you help me with my technology.”

I was disappointed to learn that the young man who mows our grass only takes Girl Scout Cookies as a tip, not full payment.

Back in January, I made a near fatal mistake of running into some early sellers in a different part of the state. Did you know that Girl Scout Cookies are released at different times in different parts of Texas? Who knew?

Personally, I think there should be a warning label on each box: “Could be dangerous for your diet if you are traveling.”

The moral of this story is simple: Don’t leave East Texas between Jan 1 and March 1. Stay where it’s safe.

Cathy Primer Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, lives and writes with a Texas twang. Comments are invited at http://checklistcharlie.blogspot.com.

Less Fat, More life

DIET is a four-letter word.

Imagine the frustration that word is stirring up in the heart of a teenager who was recently diagnosed with high blood pressure; a problem that temporarily bumped him out of the sports he loves and landed him in the hospital. Bummer.

Life is not fair.

His mom happens to have a friend who is a self-trained expert on how to fail at every diet. That would be me. I have a wealth of unwanted experience about trimming the fat and upping the nutritional value of my calories.

In honor of my friend’s son, here are the things that turn out to be kinda easy:

-Google all the fast food restaurants and pick out one item you like on each menu that is less than 300 calories, maybe a little more for guys. That way you’ll have a “safe” choice when you are hanging out with your friends. You’ll be surprised; who knew a small cup of slaw could pack a whopping 600 calories.

-Pick out a sugarless jam or jelly to eat on your toast instead of butter. This can cure a sweet tooth.

-Spread a teaspoon of peanut butter or Neufchatel on a whole-wheat cracker or flat pretzels if you find yourself craving fat. Or choose avocado because it will give you a dose of potassium and you can add onions and tomatoes and have guacamole.

-Teenagers always love Rotel dip, but add a can of vegetarian refried beans and at least get a little real food in there with the Velveeta.

-Keep boiled eggs in the fridge. Cut them in half and throw away half the yoke.

-My friend who is a personal trainer tells me that people who are successful at losing weight keep diaries of what they eat each day. I can’t seem to be that organized more than one week at a time, so I just do it every other week. To me, overeating is a lot like when folks quit smoking for a week, that’s still a week less lung pollution or a week of eating for good health. It can’t hurt.

-Find some easy, crock pot recipes, like lo-cal lo-fat soups, so when you walk in your door tired and hungry the smell that greets you will be temptingly healthy.

-Invest in a sturdy, non-stick skillet.

-Experiment to find the changes your family might not notice, like tossing a few tablespoons of bran or oatmeal into your regular baking recipes. Or replacing some of the butter with small amounts of olive oil.

No, there’s nothing earth shaking on this list; just a few easy changes that your family might be willing to swallow, like drinking more water and less soda pop.

Who knows? A few less calories today might mean a longer, healthier life for the whole family.

Cathy Primer Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, lives and writes with a Texas twang. Comments are invited at http://checklistcharlie.blogspot.com.

The Painless Perfect Pizza Crust List

Nothing says welcome home like pizza! Or TV night in front of the fireplace.

This time of year, warm homemade pizza is a family night waiting to happen, especially if the crust is easy and everybody pitches in to create individual designer pizzas.

The secret to a good crust is in greasing the pan with olive oil and sprinkling it with corn meal instead of flour.

Here’s a list of easy crusts available in our local grocery stores. Pre-made crusts are easiest, of course, but the mixes are easy, too, and have the advantage of saving money. 1 star means no thanks, 5 stars means Bon appétit!

-Jiffy Pizza Crust Mix. Tastes too much like Bisquick for our family. Serves 1 teenage boy. 2 stars.

-Valutime Crispy Pizza Crust Mix. The kids liked this one best, but the adults thought it was too limp. Serves 1 teenage boy. 3 stars.

-Martha White Pizza Crust Thin & Crispy Mix. This was the adult favorite because it held its shape and tasted of yeast, instead of baking soda. Serves 1 teenage boy. 4 stars.

-Pillsbury Pizza Crust Classic. This one is definitely the easiest, but most expensive of the ones you have to spread yourself. It has a good texture, but tastes a little biscuit-y for me. Serves 2 teenage boys. 3 stars.

-Brookshire’s Facochia Bread. Add 8 ounces of grated cheese on top and a salad and you have a meal for four. 5 stars.

-Mama Mary’s 100% Whole Wheat Pizza Crusts. Too dry. Teenage boys won’t eat it. 1 star.

-Boboli Original Pizza Crust. For the money, I prefer mix and bake styles. They taste fresher.

Other things Italian:

-We tried two varieties of Alessi Breadsticks, Grissini Torinesi Rosemary or Garlic. The garlic ones are traditional, a little thicker. (2 stars). The Rosemary ones are very thin, delicious, and wrapped in individual servings, easy to pack in lunches. (5 stars).

-World Classics Artichoke Antipasto. I saved so much on crusts, I couldn’t resist trying this little jar of goodness, even though it was a splurge. I sampled it as a spread on toast (2 stars), with pasta (3 stars), and as a hot artichoke dip mixed with cream cheese and topped with parmesan (5 stars). I recommend it as a hostess gift, too.

Designer pizzas are a fun, inexpensive, easy way to bring your whole family into the warmth of the kitchen on winter nights.

Cathy Primer Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, lives and writes with a Texas twang. Comments are invited at http://checklistcharlie.blogspot.com.

Hi-Tech Redneck

There was a shiny new piece of hi-tech equipment with a big red velveteen bow parked in my driveway Christmas morning.

It seems my husband believes I should have a new vehicle every 200,000 miles or every 10 years, whether I am ready or not.

My problem is I am just not that good of a driver. How am I supposed to drive and find all the new buttons?

Did you know they don’t even put tape players in cars anymore?

Now if you haven’t shopped for cars in ten years, you’re in for some astonishing space-agey, new fangled gadgets. For instance, I don’t have to touch my hatchback any more to get it to close. There’s a button for that.

Oh and they don’t call ‘em hatchbacks anymore either.

Jeremy Lade looked at me with understanding patience in his eyes and explained that I would probably love sync technology once I got used to it. Bless his heart.

So just what is sync technology?

Well, as best as I can figure so far, I talk to my steering wheel and it dials my iphone for me somehow. Okay, so maybe I’ll admit that the road has been a more dangerous place since I got my iphone. And maybe I’ll admit I find myself checking emails as I drive. Did you know there’s an ap for Facebook?

This technological hot rod came with four- count ‘em, four- books. One whole book is devoted solely to making phone calls.

I have a simple solution to so much information. I just drive by the dealership for another lesson.

The guys at Lade have amazing customer service, especially for technologically challenged middle-aged mom-types.

But I’m seriously concerned about Ford’s future truck sales and here’s why:

My sporty little Edge doesn’t understand Jeremy too well.

Every time Jeremy spoke a command, the car’s screen said, listening…listening…listening….

I suspect my techy new Silver Bullet - yep, that’s what my teenage son and I call our new voice activated joy ride - is listening for the King’s English.

“I guess I can’t tell my car I’m fixin’ to call someone, huh Jeremy,” I said.

He laughed and gave me the title for this column.

I’m thinking those engineers at Ford better come up with a computer that listens for a Texas twang or they are gonna have some disappointed cowboys singing songs about losing their true loves because their pick up truck couldn’t dial her number.

And maybe trucks should answer with a younger, sexier voice.

My son suggested Carrie Underwood.

Cathy Primer Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, lives and writes with a Texas twang. Comments are invited at http://checklistcharlie.blogspot.com.