No matter what others may say, Houston has become a mighty romantic place to hang out, if you like art and ethnic food.
Check in and stay for a long romantic weekend at the Hotel ZaZa, smack dab in the center of the Museum District and only a few blocks from all things medical in Houston. Newly renovated, I recommend shopping online for one of the ZaZa’s spacious suites overlooking their sparkling Mediterranean-inspired swimming pool. Check for deals on any ZaSpa packages.
Besides the obvious, like Houston’s Museum of Fine Arts directly across the street from the ZaZa, this international city also has an often-overlooked sampling of art created and collected with a spiritual perspective.
For instance, there’s the Byzantine Fresco Chapel, which was created to rescue a set of stolen and ransomed frescoes. By 1992, the city of Houston and the Menil Foundation had teamed up to become the stewards of the frescoes, which forever belong to the Church of Cyprus. The church is reclaiming them, so they will be going home soon.
Don’t miss the Rothko Chapel, an internationally known draw, with its focus on human rights. If you are traveling with traditionalists, prepare them for the minimalist flavor of the chapel, so they can experience quiet with a meditative heart.
“It has become a pilgrimage for thousands of visitors who are drawn by its importance both as an artistic masterpiece and as a gathering place for people of all religious beliefs,” according to Rothko literature.
I recommend a visit to the Annunciation Greek Orthodox Cathedral, only a few blocks from Hotel ZaZa and the Rothko Chapel. If you are there on a Sunday, visitors are welcome to join worship. On other days of the week, priests are gracious and hospitable about informing respectful visitors about the significance of icons in Greek Orthodox tradition.
If you are a bibliophile, stop by the book store while you are at the church for a thorough selection of all things related to icons and icon painting, along with great choices in Greek heritage and the history of Greek immigration to America.
As long as Greek is on the art tour, why not take in cultural cuisine, too?
Choosing one or two items off the extensive menu at Byzantio Café and Bar is impossible. So, meet friends and order a huge spread to try it all.
Every bite is delicious, from the lamb souvlaki to the hummus to the gyros, and especially the tzatziki sauce.
With neighbors and regulars laughing and greeting each other across the restaurant, Byzantio feels like a great big Greek American family reunion.
And since you are having an art holiday, don’t miss the photography on the walls. Personal and expressive, we especially enjoyed the depictions of the local belly dancers who perform at the restaurant every Thursday night.
Belly dancing; a perfect excuse to start a romantic weekend in Houston early.
Cathy Primer Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, lives and writes with a Texas twang. Comments are invited at checklistcharlie.blogspot.com.
Showing posts with label history. Show all posts
Showing posts with label history. Show all posts
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Sunday, August 28, 2011
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.
Monday, May 9, 2011
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.
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.
Monday, April 25, 2011
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.
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.
Wednesday, July 21, 2010
Media, Microphones, and Messages
Never trust me with a microphone.
Close friends know better.
But I recently got handed a mike at the last minute because the real MC was double-booked. Oh yeah! Woo woo!
The best part was the crowd was heavily loaded with media people.
We were working together on an event to raise money and awareness for the way HIV/AIDS is affecting East Texans from all walks of life. Not necessarily a popular topic in these parts.
Now I’m going to share with you the thoughts that popped into my head at the same moment they trusted me with that microphone. Just cus 4th of July is when I spout off about newspapers, truth, justice, and the American way.
Here’s the deal. We live in an area known for generosity. We take for granted the zillions of non-profits, church programs, and foundations that work diligently to make our communities amazingly blessed. Not to mention all the volunteer hours contributed toward good causes.
It is just part of what we all know and enjoy around here.
What hit me like a ton of bricks that evening was how much the media gets taken for granted in all this community service.
Because who would have time for volunteering if someone didn’t hold corrupt public officials accountable?
How would we know that we could count on good infrastructure in our towns and counties, freeing us to travel our roads and get where we’re going unencumbered by graft and corruption that plagues other countries, if not for our watchdog friends in the press?
And who would report the truth if there are whispers of inappropriate uses of donations in local charities or governments?
Yep, we enjoy our gatherings in peace and tranquility without ever considering how much the local press contributes to the well-being of our communities.
We read the front page with glee when we see our favorite charity honored with a lengthy article there, yet we seldom consider that all that paper and ink and overhead costs money. Do we think to support the local media with some advertising dollars now and then?
So I took the mike enthusiastically and spoke for all East Texans, thanking the local press for making their unique contribution to our communities.
And I am officially thanking this newspaper in today’s column.
Preach it, sister!
Cathy Primer Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, lives and writes with a Texas twang. Comments are invited at checklistcharlie.blogspot.com.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Truth, Justice, and the American Way
Justice is something Americans take for granted.
Like last week’s newspaper, we don’t think about it at all unless we need it for some reason.
But when we suffer an injustice, we suddenly crave justice, we search it out, and we complain if we can’t get it. And we keep complaining. Sometimes for years. For as long as it takes.
Last year, I got to be useful in a small way that mattered to me personally; I was part of a team that accomplished a little moment of historic justice. My part was a small thing. I just wrote a story that needed to be told.
It was printed in a little weekly paper that people tend to take for granted by an editor who, like all editors, happens to be underpaid.
The real hero was the man who was chosen, along with the only other three African Americans involved, to fill the draft quota for Henderson County out of a pool of 22 young men during the Vietnam era. Only four men were needed to fill the quota. The only four men chosen were the four black guys out of the twenty-two possible men. All the white guys went home to their mamas that day.
Coincidence that those four names were randomly drawn? Dumb luck? Not likely.
You almost had to live through the civil rights era to get how pernicious racism can be.
If you missed the story, my friend lived through the war and developed an attitude that reminds me of Joseph, “What you intended for evil, God intended for good.” He is a true American hero.
Justice is something we take for granted.
We read our newspaper and we don’t even think about how the stories affect our culture. How they make us all aware of injustices and provide an opportunity for communities to come together and address problems, to right wrongs.
Our forefathers made the FIRST amendment Freedom of Speech simply because a free culture depends on truth. Our local press – unencumbered by government jurisdiction - gives us an avenue to express our love of a vibrant community conversation.
Sometimes, justice is accomplished like a sigh of relief – without courts or law enforcement – simply because someone finally spoke up and said what we all knew to be true.
Our local newspaper is a place to declare what we believe to be true and self-evident.
Cathy Primer Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, lives and writes with a Texas twang. Comments are invited at checklistcharlie.blogspot.com.
Thursday, January 1, 2009
The Gift of Silence
Sunlight poured through the windows of the third floor room in the monastery where twenty novice artists bent over icons, working carefully to apply the paint-like substance made by a master iconographer from red clay, water, and egg yolk. Filling the air were the ancient chants harmonized for centuries by monks in monasteries throughout Europe and the near East.
Silently, prayerfully meditating on God’s own nature, the artists carefully prepared the surface for gold leaf to enliven the halo, designating the central figure as a heavenly-inspired personage.
Purposefully, the artists endeavored to make all of the icons identical so that the message would be preserved accurately.
In fact, the artists left each finished icon unsigned simply because a signature might be a distraction from the symbolism intended to draw the viewers’ attention to, in this case, the mighty warrior-angel who expelled Satan from heaven, Archangel Michael.
The artists worked on hand-crafted wooden boards which were prepared with twenty coats of plaster, sanded smooth between each coat by the nuns of a similar sisterhood.
For hours on end, icon students learned the centuries-old technique as an instrument of devotion; as in the Middle Ages when monks devoted their lives to keeping the gospel message alive by spreading the message via icons and illuminated texts to civilizations that were most often illiterate.
Today, students can gather in a scattering of places around the US for instruction by masters who have been trained by one lone man who brought the process to the US and developed a school in New York after leaving the USSR when that government was committed to destroying all Russian icons. At that time, those who understood the ancient technique, because of their association with the Greek Orthodox Church, were often persecuted.
Now, once a year, the Jesuit Spirituality Center in Grand Coteau, Louisiana, hosts an iconography workshop. For one week, students gather from all over the US to be trained in the ancient art.
The Center is a peaceful place because the Jesuit priests who live there adhere to the principles of St. Ignatius’s spiritual exercises that are best experienced with quantities of silent contemplation.
Jesuit priests prayerfully provide quiet hospitality throughout the year to folks who come for silent retreats. Bells interrupt the silence at regular intervals, announcing meals and daily Mass.
It is impossible to describe my feelings as I began to inscribe the pure white board with the black lines of the icon’s pattern, symbolizing sin’s pattern on the beauty and purity of God’s creation. Amid the silence, each stroke of my brush reminded me again of how grateful I am to belong to Him.
Meditation is a lost art in our culture.
There is something purifying and healing about silence. Awe-inspiring.
This holiday, amid the clatter of the season and as the New Year begins, why not take a few hours to give your soul the gift of silence?
Cathy Primer Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, lives and writes with a Texas twang. Comments are invited at http://checklistcharlie.blogspot.com or cathykrafve@gmail.com.
Silently, prayerfully meditating on God’s own nature, the artists carefully prepared the surface for gold leaf to enliven the halo, designating the central figure as a heavenly-inspired personage.
Purposefully, the artists endeavored to make all of the icons identical so that the message would be preserved accurately.
In fact, the artists left each finished icon unsigned simply because a signature might be a distraction from the symbolism intended to draw the viewers’ attention to, in this case, the mighty warrior-angel who expelled Satan from heaven, Archangel Michael.
The artists worked on hand-crafted wooden boards which were prepared with twenty coats of plaster, sanded smooth between each coat by the nuns of a similar sisterhood.
For hours on end, icon students learned the centuries-old technique as an instrument of devotion; as in the Middle Ages when monks devoted their lives to keeping the gospel message alive by spreading the message via icons and illuminated texts to civilizations that were most often illiterate.
Today, students can gather in a scattering of places around the US for instruction by masters who have been trained by one lone man who brought the process to the US and developed a school in New York after leaving the USSR when that government was committed to destroying all Russian icons. At that time, those who understood the ancient technique, because of their association with the Greek Orthodox Church, were often persecuted.
Now, once a year, the Jesuit Spirituality Center in Grand Coteau, Louisiana, hosts an iconography workshop. For one week, students gather from all over the US to be trained in the ancient art.
The Center is a peaceful place because the Jesuit priests who live there adhere to the principles of St. Ignatius’s spiritual exercises that are best experienced with quantities of silent contemplation.
Jesuit priests prayerfully provide quiet hospitality throughout the year to folks who come for silent retreats. Bells interrupt the silence at regular intervals, announcing meals and daily Mass.
It is impossible to describe my feelings as I began to inscribe the pure white board with the black lines of the icon’s pattern, symbolizing sin’s pattern on the beauty and purity of God’s creation. Amid the silence, each stroke of my brush reminded me again of how grateful I am to belong to Him.
Meditation is a lost art in our culture.
There is something purifying and healing about silence. Awe-inspiring.
This holiday, amid the clatter of the season and as the New Year begins, why not take a few hours to give your soul the gift of silence?
Cathy Primer Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, lives and writes with a Texas twang. Comments are invited at http://checklistcharlie.blogspot.com or cathykrafve@gmail.com.
Monday, November 24, 2008
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.
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Day Tripping to Carthage
“East Texas Oil and Gas Blast, Feel the Energy!”
Great line, huh? And what timing, given that all the politicians are talking about energy now that prices at the pump are way up.
Well, we have to give our East Texas neighbors in Carthage credit for doing their part to keep us independent of foreign oil, by celebrating our rich oil and gas history with a festival.
Why not fill up the tank and mosey over to Carthage for the fun?
The Saturday, October 11th event, promises all day entertainment, from 10am to 5pm, including performances by special guests, Tony Booth and Johnny Lee.
The Texas Country Music Hall of Fame is in Carthage, of course, and worth a visit all by itself. But there’s plenty more to do while you are there.
There’s also the Old Jail Museum, built in 1891, featuring restored jail cells on the second floor and the Leila Belle LaGrone Family History Center, an active genealogical research library housed downstairs.
Blast special events will include arts and crafts, a pie contest, a car show, and hourly drawings for prizes.
But each and every Saturday night in Carthage means live music at the Esquire, an old downtown movie theater which is now the home of the Country Music Hayride, where “All shows are geared towards providing good family entertainment,” according to the East Texas Tourism Guide. When there’s a fifth Saturday night in the month, music is usually gospel.
While you’re in town, check out the historic downtown where music chimes all day long, and the streets are lined with boutiques and antique stores.
There’s the Emporium on the Square, at 102 N. Marshal/Henderson, specializing in antiques, sporting a nice collection of rhinestone jewelry.
At Blessings, 110 E. Main St., gifts have a faith-filled message; I bought ribbon-trimmed dish towels and tucked them away for stocking stuffers. Lunch is served daily at quaint tables in the back.
Speaking of lunch, there’s also the Texas Tea Room, 100 E. Sabine, where volunteers serve up fresh sandwiches and soups at reasonable prices in an effort to support the Heritage Museum which is devoted to the history of Panola County. Above the tea room, the museum is a tip o’ the hat to inhabitants of the county, including Native American artifacts, photos of early community leaders, and a history of education in the county.
Save room for desert because the Fudge and More Store, at 106 W. Sabine, serves fresh, buttery fudge to chocolate-seeking customers, prepared after-hours each evening by owners, Dean and Brenda Jones. My favorite was a chocolaty concoction of pecans and toffee filling, but the traditional toffee was good, too.
Carthage is also home to Panola College, where the manicured, park-like campus could even inspire an old person like me to re-enroll for classes.
With so many cafes to choose from, lunch could be just another excuse to come back and visit Carthage again, not to mention the shopping and the museums in this history-loving little Texas town.
Cathy Primer Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, lives and writes with a Texas twang. Comments are invited at http://checklistcharlie.blogspot.com or cathykrafve@gmail.com.
Great line, huh? And what timing, given that all the politicians are talking about energy now that prices at the pump are way up.
Well, we have to give our East Texas neighbors in Carthage credit for doing their part to keep us independent of foreign oil, by celebrating our rich oil and gas history with a festival.
Why not fill up the tank and mosey over to Carthage for the fun?
The Saturday, October 11th event, promises all day entertainment, from 10am to 5pm, including performances by special guests, Tony Booth and Johnny Lee.
The Texas Country Music Hall of Fame is in Carthage, of course, and worth a visit all by itself. But there’s plenty more to do while you are there.
There’s also the Old Jail Museum, built in 1891, featuring restored jail cells on the second floor and the Leila Belle LaGrone Family History Center, an active genealogical research library housed downstairs.
Blast special events will include arts and crafts, a pie contest, a car show, and hourly drawings for prizes.
But each and every Saturday night in Carthage means live music at the Esquire, an old downtown movie theater which is now the home of the Country Music Hayride, where “All shows are geared towards providing good family entertainment,” according to the East Texas Tourism Guide. When there’s a fifth Saturday night in the month, music is usually gospel.
While you’re in town, check out the historic downtown where music chimes all day long, and the streets are lined with boutiques and antique stores.
There’s the Emporium on the Square, at 102 N. Marshal/Henderson, specializing in antiques, sporting a nice collection of rhinestone jewelry.
At Blessings, 110 E. Main St., gifts have a faith-filled message; I bought ribbon-trimmed dish towels and tucked them away for stocking stuffers. Lunch is served daily at quaint tables in the back.
Speaking of lunch, there’s also the Texas Tea Room, 100 E. Sabine, where volunteers serve up fresh sandwiches and soups at reasonable prices in an effort to support the Heritage Museum which is devoted to the history of Panola County. Above the tea room, the museum is a tip o’ the hat to inhabitants of the county, including Native American artifacts, photos of early community leaders, and a history of education in the county.
Save room for desert because the Fudge and More Store, at 106 W. Sabine, serves fresh, buttery fudge to chocolate-seeking customers, prepared after-hours each evening by owners, Dean and Brenda Jones. My favorite was a chocolaty concoction of pecans and toffee filling, but the traditional toffee was good, too.
Carthage is also home to Panola College, where the manicured, park-like campus could even inspire an old person like me to re-enroll for classes.
With so many cafes to choose from, lunch could be just another excuse to come back and visit Carthage again, not to mention the shopping and the museums in this history-loving little Texas town.
Cathy Primer Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, lives and writes with a Texas twang. Comments are invited at http://checklistcharlie.blogspot.com or cathykrafve@gmail.com.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Quilt As Contemporary Art
I finished a quilt for my son this week.
Without a doubt, this quilt qualifies as the worst one I’ve ever made.
It’s the first time I ever made a quilt on the sewing machine and I discovered that my machine refuses to sew through more than five layers of fabric. Who knew? So, already, I have to go back and repair by hand all the places where seams are supposed to come together.
All of which just goes to show you that boys and girls are different because my son is perfectly thrilled with it.
It is the only quilt I’ve ever made from left over t-shirts. My son’s favorite old t-shirts were so worn out that I had to first patch the holes in shirts before I could use them, thus giving the term “patch work quilt” an ironic truth.
The good news is that when he throws it over his bunk at camp, I don’t have to worry about it getting holes in it.
“Oh good, I’ll get to use your machine!” he answered when I suggested he could create a pillowcase out of the leftover camo print fabric I used as binding.
What is it about boys that they are thrilled with anything that has a motor?
Nobody sent him the memo that sewing is for girls. I suspect that he views the foot petal as the accelerator.
It’s just a good thing I have extra machine needles in my sewing basket because he will drive that machine at full throttle for the whole stretch of every seam.
I used to be more of a quilt snob. In my mind, all true quilts had to be hand-stitched in the finest American frontier tradition, in front of the fire place in the winter, of course. Very picturesque. Never mind that the TV was entertaining me the whole time I worked.
That was, until I discovered store-bought quilts in the 80s when Chinese imports first hit American markets in full force. My friend fussed at me for supporting Chinese worker maltreatment. But I’m pretty sure that Chinese women and children wanted to make the quilts I bought. I could tell by the meticulous stitches, lovingly worked into their designs.
To me, the work of Chinese women diligently caring for their families seems like the perfect tribute to an American Art form developed on the prairie by resourceful women of another era.
Using old t-shirts, I tip my hat to our ancestors, creating a contemporary art form to wrap lovingly around a happy camper. Contemporary art tends to be a little strange anyway, right?
Cathy Primer Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, lives and writes with a Texas twang. Comments are invited at http://checklistcharlie.blogspot.com or cathykrafve@gmail.com.
Without a doubt, this quilt qualifies as the worst one I’ve ever made.
It’s the first time I ever made a quilt on the sewing machine and I discovered that my machine refuses to sew through more than five layers of fabric. Who knew? So, already, I have to go back and repair by hand all the places where seams are supposed to come together.
All of which just goes to show you that boys and girls are different because my son is perfectly thrilled with it.
It is the only quilt I’ve ever made from left over t-shirts. My son’s favorite old t-shirts were so worn out that I had to first patch the holes in shirts before I could use them, thus giving the term “patch work quilt” an ironic truth.
The good news is that when he throws it over his bunk at camp, I don’t have to worry about it getting holes in it.
“Oh good, I’ll get to use your machine!” he answered when I suggested he could create a pillowcase out of the leftover camo print fabric I used as binding.
What is it about boys that they are thrilled with anything that has a motor?
Nobody sent him the memo that sewing is for girls. I suspect that he views the foot petal as the accelerator.
It’s just a good thing I have extra machine needles in my sewing basket because he will drive that machine at full throttle for the whole stretch of every seam.
I used to be more of a quilt snob. In my mind, all true quilts had to be hand-stitched in the finest American frontier tradition, in front of the fire place in the winter, of course. Very picturesque. Never mind that the TV was entertaining me the whole time I worked.
That was, until I discovered store-bought quilts in the 80s when Chinese imports first hit American markets in full force. My friend fussed at me for supporting Chinese worker maltreatment. But I’m pretty sure that Chinese women and children wanted to make the quilts I bought. I could tell by the meticulous stitches, lovingly worked into their designs.
To me, the work of Chinese women diligently caring for their families seems like the perfect tribute to an American Art form developed on the prairie by resourceful women of another era.
Using old t-shirts, I tip my hat to our ancestors, creating a contemporary art form to wrap lovingly around a happy camper. Contemporary art tends to be a little strange anyway, right?
Cathy Primer Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, lives and writes with a Texas twang. Comments are invited at http://checklistcharlie.blogspot.com or cathykrafve@gmail.com.
Sunday, July 6, 2008
Immigration Reform or Sound Bites?
Whatever happened to Compassionate Conservatism?
Good grief. I am so tired of trite quips that don’t even come close to telling the truth.
For instance, on the issue of immigration reform, one-liners don’t cut it.
Somebody tell the politicians.
Occasionally, I am happy when they get it right. For instance, when someone pointed out that “illegal immigrants” is an oxymoron.
Immigration is a tough issue, one that is centuries in the making.
In Texas, we understand that families have been living on both sides of the Rio Grande for generations.
When I was growing up, my history books left out the fact that, because slavery was outlawed on their side of the border, the Mexicans thought God was on their side at the time of the Alamo.
In fact, some immigrants to the Mexican territory from the US were looking to add Texas to the Union as a slave state.
You would think hassling with ruling governments would end with freedom from Mexico, but Texas had issues with the US government, too. It was still another five years before the US settled up with Texas, paying $10,000,000 in 1851 because of boundary disputes involving what are now other states.
Hmm…like I said, life can be complicated, even in Texas.
The issue of immigration won’t be solved by building a wall, not that walls keep people out.
On the other hand, if communist governments have taught us anything, walls do tend to keep people in. But that’s another story.
Then, there’s the whole welfare, government-provides-all-our-needs economy thing at work. When I was growing up that was labeled socialism.
American perspective has shifted to the point that we no longer view health care or education, for instance, as an opportunity and privilege available in a free country to those willing to make other sacrifices, but we tend view them as rights provided by our government.
I bet my grandparents would have scratched their heads over that notion.
What would happen if the government got out of the welfare business, reduced our taxes, and let us make our own decisions about our hard-earned cash?
I suspect that many Americans would enjoy giving away even more money to help others. Especially if charity meant education and health care for the needy.
Of course, that idea doesn’t buy votes. And lobbyist would have to find something else to do, something productive maybe. There’s a thought.
The growing pains associated with the current influx of foreigners won’t be solved without a lot of compassionate understanding.
Americans can handle the discussion; a good ole knock-down, drag out, lively debate all at once on the multiple repercussions of policy.
In fact, I’m bettin’ that many Americans think that debate is exactly what it is going to take to think creatively and come up with solutions along with consensus.
The American public is not stupid; if only our elected officials would leave off with the sound bites.
Sometimes I think “wise leaders” might be the more problematic oxymoron.
Cathy Primer Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, lives, writes, and votes with a Texas twang. Comments are welcome at cathykrafve@gmail.com http://checklistcharlie.blogspot.com.
Good grief. I am so tired of trite quips that don’t even come close to telling the truth.
For instance, on the issue of immigration reform, one-liners don’t cut it.
Somebody tell the politicians.
Occasionally, I am happy when they get it right. For instance, when someone pointed out that “illegal immigrants” is an oxymoron.
Immigration is a tough issue, one that is centuries in the making.
In Texas, we understand that families have been living on both sides of the Rio Grande for generations.
When I was growing up, my history books left out the fact that, because slavery was outlawed on their side of the border, the Mexicans thought God was on their side at the time of the Alamo.
In fact, some immigrants to the Mexican territory from the US were looking to add Texas to the Union as a slave state.
You would think hassling with ruling governments would end with freedom from Mexico, but Texas had issues with the US government, too. It was still another five years before the US settled up with Texas, paying $10,000,000 in 1851 because of boundary disputes involving what are now other states.
Hmm…like I said, life can be complicated, even in Texas.
The issue of immigration won’t be solved by building a wall, not that walls keep people out.
On the other hand, if communist governments have taught us anything, walls do tend to keep people in. But that’s another story.
Then, there’s the whole welfare, government-provides-all-our-needs economy thing at work. When I was growing up that was labeled socialism.
American perspective has shifted to the point that we no longer view health care or education, for instance, as an opportunity and privilege available in a free country to those willing to make other sacrifices, but we tend view them as rights provided by our government.
I bet my grandparents would have scratched their heads over that notion.
What would happen if the government got out of the welfare business, reduced our taxes, and let us make our own decisions about our hard-earned cash?
I suspect that many Americans would enjoy giving away even more money to help others. Especially if charity meant education and health care for the needy.
Of course, that idea doesn’t buy votes. And lobbyist would have to find something else to do, something productive maybe. There’s a thought.
The growing pains associated with the current influx of foreigners won’t be solved without a lot of compassionate understanding.
Americans can handle the discussion; a good ole knock-down, drag out, lively debate all at once on the multiple repercussions of policy.
In fact, I’m bettin’ that many Americans think that debate is exactly what it is going to take to think creatively and come up with solutions along with consensus.
The American public is not stupid; if only our elected officials would leave off with the sound bites.
Sometimes I think “wise leaders” might be the more problematic oxymoron.
Cathy Primer Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, lives, writes, and votes with a Texas twang. Comments are welcome at cathykrafve@gmail.com http://checklistcharlie.blogspot.com.
Amendment #1: July 4th, Celebrating a Free Press
“Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances.”
That music you hear playing in the background is the Star Spangled Banner.
Yes, July 4th is the time of year when I like to salute our local newspaper.
I suppose this could be considered self-serving of me, since they do print my column after all.
My young friends tell me that to really reach people, my blog, not my column, is the way to go. Apparently, young people are not into reading newsprint, they prefer lap top screens.
Their loss, I say.
This paper has a website and it serves its purpose, I suppose, especially if you are young. The news industry is changing to keep up with the technology.
On the other hand, as a writer, I can’t help but be in awe of what our forefathers could cover in one sentence, even without a laptop. Clearly, they were not having a slow news day.
For instance, George Washington was elected our first president on February 4, 1789; a whopping thirteen years after the Declaration. Our forefathers had a lot of details to iron out.
Eleven of the original states first adopted the Constitution in 1787 and 88, but two states, North Carolina and Rhode Island, held out for many reasons.
So, what were the hot topics of the day?
The first ten amendments of the Constitution are what sealed the deal.
The hold-out states insisted that individual and state’s rights have some form of definition before they were willing to form an alliance with their fellow independence-minded States.
Which brings us back to the very first thing on their minds: religion, free speech, press, assembly, redress from the government.
What makes my heart pump red, white and blue is the way those things are so obviously related. Obvious to us now. Not so obvious then. You have to hand it to our forefathers for being far-sighted.
So, if you value the right to exercise freely your religion or lack thereof, to speak your mind in public, to assemble peacefully for any reason, to demand changes and integrity from our government, remember the service that a free press affords us. The patriots chose free press as a balance to our self-government in order to ensure those other primary rights.
The local news guys are the ones on the front lines, keeping our government honest.
Pick up today’s newspaper and for less than a dollar, you are buying more efficiency from our government. Certainly more than your tax dollars will ever buy.
Buy an ad from your local paper and not only are you getting media attention for your business, but you are supporting a worthy cause, the fourth estate. Plus, you can probably deduct your business’s media expenses from your tax bill.
Our forefather’s weren’t too keen on taxes; I am pretty sure they would have supported a tax deduction for media. But I bet they never imagined a blog.
Cathy Primer Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, welcomes comments at CaeKrafve2@aol.com or http://checklistcharlie.blogspot.com.
That music you hear playing in the background is the Star Spangled Banner.
Yes, July 4th is the time of year when I like to salute our local newspaper.
I suppose this could be considered self-serving of me, since they do print my column after all.
My young friends tell me that to really reach people, my blog, not my column, is the way to go. Apparently, young people are not into reading newsprint, they prefer lap top screens.
Their loss, I say.
This paper has a website and it serves its purpose, I suppose, especially if you are young. The news industry is changing to keep up with the technology.
On the other hand, as a writer, I can’t help but be in awe of what our forefathers could cover in one sentence, even without a laptop. Clearly, they were not having a slow news day.
For instance, George Washington was elected our first president on February 4, 1789; a whopping thirteen years after the Declaration. Our forefathers had a lot of details to iron out.
Eleven of the original states first adopted the Constitution in 1787 and 88, but two states, North Carolina and Rhode Island, held out for many reasons.
So, what were the hot topics of the day?
The first ten amendments of the Constitution are what sealed the deal.
The hold-out states insisted that individual and state’s rights have some form of definition before they were willing to form an alliance with their fellow independence-minded States.
Which brings us back to the very first thing on their minds: religion, free speech, press, assembly, redress from the government.
What makes my heart pump red, white and blue is the way those things are so obviously related. Obvious to us now. Not so obvious then. You have to hand it to our forefathers for being far-sighted.
So, if you value the right to exercise freely your religion or lack thereof, to speak your mind in public, to assemble peacefully for any reason, to demand changes and integrity from our government, remember the service that a free press affords us. The patriots chose free press as a balance to our self-government in order to ensure those other primary rights.
The local news guys are the ones on the front lines, keeping our government honest.
Pick up today’s newspaper and for less than a dollar, you are buying more efficiency from our government. Certainly more than your tax dollars will ever buy.
Buy an ad from your local paper and not only are you getting media attention for your business, but you are supporting a worthy cause, the fourth estate. Plus, you can probably deduct your business’s media expenses from your tax bill.
Our forefather’s weren’t too keen on taxes; I am pretty sure they would have supported a tax deduction for media. But I bet they never imagined a blog.
Cathy Primer Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, welcomes comments at CaeKrafve2@aol.com or http://checklistcharlie.blogspot.com.
Amendment #2: Guns
“A well-regulated militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear arms, shall not be infringed.” US Constitution, The Second Amendment, 1791
“Whenever guns are illegal, only criminals will have guns.” Yeah right, we’ve heard it all before.
Too bad, that quippy little saying really misses the point.
The View, that daytime girlfest of chatter, is a perfect wake-up call that not everyone has been reviewing their grammar school history lessons.
I happened to catch it one day when I was fighting off boredom on the treadmill with a magazine and a headset.
Elizabeth, the lone conservative on the show, is my TV action hero because she is bright, articulate, talks about motherhood like she loves it, and is outnumbered 3 to 1 by her more liberal counterparts.
When the topic was the right to bear arms, though, even Elizabeth missed the chance to remind America the real reason we should cherish the rights our forefathers established.
So why do we have Amendment #2 in the first place?
Amendments 3, 4, and 5 serve as a reality check.
Amendment #3 reminds us that at one time, the English monarch thought it was okay to force his subjects to house and to feed his soldiers, without compensation.
Amendment #4 reminds us that King George‘s soldiers thought it entertaining to bust in on folks’ private homes and search.
Amendment #5 reminds us that the king’s representatives in the New World had a bad habit of accusing folks, throwing them in jail, and confiscating their property without a trial.
Our forefathers were still in creating-a-self-governing-nation mode when they wrote the Bill of Rights. They were looking for ways to keep government for the people, by the people, of the people, as Abe defined it later.
They were creating not only three checks and balances to reign in government, but as many as they could think of, including a free press in the first amendment.
One balance of power was to ensure that government officials would be aware that every citizen was armed. That might slow ya down a mite when you are thinking tyrannical thoughts about world domination and power mongering.
Call me paranoid, but I stand with the patriots on this one.
Lately, there is talk about whether “the right of the people” refers to individuals or the military.
Really? We need to invest in history lessons for media-types.
Our forefathers were not worrying about criminals, although they had their share in a rough and rugged new country.
No siree. They were giving citizens the tools they needed to protect themselves from the very government they were in the process of designing. Just in case.
Cathy Primer Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, welcomes comments at CaeKrafve2@aol.com or http://checklistcharlie.blogspot.com.
“Whenever guns are illegal, only criminals will have guns.” Yeah right, we’ve heard it all before.
Too bad, that quippy little saying really misses the point.
The View, that daytime girlfest of chatter, is a perfect wake-up call that not everyone has been reviewing their grammar school history lessons.
I happened to catch it one day when I was fighting off boredom on the treadmill with a magazine and a headset.
Elizabeth, the lone conservative on the show, is my TV action hero because she is bright, articulate, talks about motherhood like she loves it, and is outnumbered 3 to 1 by her more liberal counterparts.
When the topic was the right to bear arms, though, even Elizabeth missed the chance to remind America the real reason we should cherish the rights our forefathers established.
So why do we have Amendment #2 in the first place?
Amendments 3, 4, and 5 serve as a reality check.
Amendment #3 reminds us that at one time, the English monarch thought it was okay to force his subjects to house and to feed his soldiers, without compensation.
Amendment #4 reminds us that King George‘s soldiers thought it entertaining to bust in on folks’ private homes and search.
Amendment #5 reminds us that the king’s representatives in the New World had a bad habit of accusing folks, throwing them in jail, and confiscating their property without a trial.
Our forefathers were still in creating-a-self-governing-nation mode when they wrote the Bill of Rights. They were looking for ways to keep government for the people, by the people, of the people, as Abe defined it later.
They were creating not only three checks and balances to reign in government, but as many as they could think of, including a free press in the first amendment.
One balance of power was to ensure that government officials would be aware that every citizen was armed. That might slow ya down a mite when you are thinking tyrannical thoughts about world domination and power mongering.
Call me paranoid, but I stand with the patriots on this one.
Lately, there is talk about whether “the right of the people” refers to individuals or the military.
Really? We need to invest in history lessons for media-types.
Our forefathers were not worrying about criminals, although they had their share in a rough and rugged new country.
No siree. They were giving citizens the tools they needed to protect themselves from the very government they were in the process of designing. Just in case.
Cathy Primer Krafve, aka Checklist Charlie, welcomes comments at CaeKrafve2@aol.com or http://checklistcharlie.blogspot.com.
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