My grandchildren and I were riding in the car, and we saw a sign for exit 607. There were giggles in the back seat until I asked what was funny.

“Six seven,” they replied, and the laughing started all over again.

According to social media, the phrase “six-seven” is extremely popular among the pre-teen crowd. But an end-of-the-year Associated Press article thinks this trend has run out of steam.

There are words and phrases dating back to the 1960s that are still in use today because, like “six-seven,” they’re fun. More importantly, they mean something to a select crowd grownups aren’t allowed to join.

Creating new words and phrases isn’t new.  Over 65 years ago, hippies came up with the word “groovy.” I loved that word as a pre-teen because it was so much more colorful than saying something was “good.”

There’s a lot of other phrases from the Love Generation that remain popular today.

Whenever things don’t go my way, I often mutter “bummer” under my breath. I’ve been known to use “the man” when describing nasty people in power.

But I’ve run into quite a few “Karens” – to grab a slang word from the past couple of years – who can give “the man” a run for his three-piece suit.

“Take a chill pill” has come out of my mouth more than once since I was in high school. But old trends are replaced with what’s new and edgy.

Because CB radios were popular in the ‘80s, there are a lot of phrases truck drivers used that became part of our vocabulary.

“Ten-4 good buddy” was one we tossed around whenever we wanted to say good-bye. I had a keychain fob with “keep on truckin’” on it until my young son asked what in the world that meant. My explanations sounded lame even to me, so I tossed the antique.

Despite modern technology, cell phones, and social media, each generation creates words and phrases that fit their age group perfectly. Some last a lifetime, some a year and others fizzle out. There are words and phrases I believe I’ll always use.

My favorites are the two words to describe something truly amazing – “awesome” and “righteous.”

I think “awesome” is overused, but it’s still a great word to describe the best sunset you’ve ever seen. It’s also my go-to word on Facebook to reply to a friend’s achievement.

From the safety and anonymity of my car, I’ve called someone an “airhead” numerous times when they make a stupid move on the road.

I often interchange “airhead” with “bonehead” because they both mean the same thing. Besides, with little children around, the words I’d really like to use aren’t appropriate.

Whenever I use the phrase “far out,” I think I should be wearing a bandana, hoop earrings and huarache sandals.

I love that the 80s generation came up with using “hunk” to describe muscle-bound men. They also came up with “foxy” to describe beautiful women, but I’ll take that one. Foxes are smart, quick, gorgeous and sly. They do what they want with a smile on their face.

Which brings us back to “six-seven.” According to young people and the internet, the phrase means nothing. It can be used to describe anything where a laugh is sought.

For this young generation, “six-seven” will be one of those teen-age memories they’ll slap their foreheads about when they’re older. We know how they’ll feel because we thought bell-bottom jeans and polyester leisure suits were “legit” and would last forever.

We were wrong, but we admit the error of our ways.

Can ‘ya dig it?

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald. 

         

It’s officially 2026.

What happened to last year?

This coming year is going to be better.

Those are the top cliches in my vocabulary arsenal I use every single New Year’s Eve.

Looking back, there’s so many promises I make to myself and so many promises I break.

I’ve made long lists that concentrate on personal health. Usually I make that list while munching on Cheetos but getting healthier will start right after that bag is empty.

I’ve had years when exercise is my big promise. On Jan. 1, I put on my socks, lace up my tennis shoes, and I’m standing at the door with my keys.

If it’s too cold, I shut the door and go back inside. If it’s too hot, I tell myself to wait a few days – it’ll cool off. As you can probably guess, it’s always either too cold or too hot.

The pros advise throwing away clothes that haven’t been worn in a year. Those of us who struggle with our weight know we have three sets of clothes in our closets.

There’s the “one-day” clothes, the ones we will lose weight and get back into. They represent hope.

Then there’s the clothes we can wear right now. They represent reality.

Then there’s the last section of elastic-waist pants and T-shirts that come down to our mid thighs.

They represent regret.

Then there’s the years I promise myself to declutter. That list is so long, it’s overwhelming. Instead, I made a short list of reasonable projects last  year.

I cleaned out the junk drawer but only threw away dry-rotted rubber bands and string. The rest stayed. One never knows when a dozen twist ties and an oddball bolt will come in handy.

Cleaning things is always on my resolution list. I washed and dusted the blinds in the kitchen and living room this year. As I did so, I realized the last time I’d undertaken that task was during Covid.

No wonder the dust was so thick.

So instead of making resolutions of what to do, I’m making a list of things I’m not going to do even though professionals would recoil in horror.

Clean the top of the refrigerator. I’m 5’2”. If I can’t see it, the dust isn’t there.

Organize the kitchen utensil drawer. Rummaging round in there for my favorite spatula is part of the cooking process.

Throw away old towels. I like that thinner towels don’t clog up up the lint trap in the dryer.

Moisturize our couch. I don’t even moisturize my face, so why would I bother with a couch that’s 15 years old.

Make my home look like something in a magazine spread. There’s no personality in a house with no family photos or knick-knacks on the shelves.

I still have fake greenery on the top of the kitchen cabinets and on the living room shelves because I like having plants in the house that do not require any maintenance.

I also have hand-crocheted doilies on shelves. They were made by my grandmother, and they’re at least 60 years old. No way they’re sitting in a drawer or getting thrown away.

Clean off the front of our refrigerator. I smile every time I look at the fridge and see drawings and notes from our grandchildren there.

One poem is from our eldest granddaughter when she was in the first grade, and she’s graduating from high school this year. When they’re so faded I can’t read them, they’ll come off.

Maybe.

Here’s hoping your 2026 resolution list is short, fun and promises to make your life easier and happier.

After all, isn’t being happy the best resolution of all?

 

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald. 

 

Merry Christmas! If you have young children, there’s probably a sea of crumpled wrapping paper and ribbon covering the living room floor.

The kids are playing with the boxes as much as they are the toys, and you’re probably going to stay in your pajamas all day.

Parents are wondering how in the world they’re going to find room for new trains, toy cars and dolls. Then there’s the aggravation of watching them play with their favorite old toys instead of the new ones.

Those with teens have a different kind of silence on Christmas morning. Teens are immersed in cell-phone worlds, listening to music on headphones or tapping away on their laptops.

Those of us who are retired enjoy the peace and quiet, but there’s a feeling of nostalgia for the days when we had little ones in the house.

On this Christmas Day in Pecan Grove, there are families experiencing a blessed holiday who never thought they’d have a happy one this year.

That’s because of the wonderfully generous Pecan Grove Christmas Elves.

Many of us are familiar with Pecan Grove for their Christmas light displays. The subdivision is famous around the Houston area for having incredible light and yard displays.

Thousands of people drive through the neighborhood in December to marvel at the lights and creative ways people decorate their yards.

But what people don’t know is that behind the tinsel and twinkling lights are people who fundamentally understand that Christmas might include making life a little easier for their neighbors.

Behind the scenes, with little fanfare, some of the people in Pecan Grove have made sure those in need have a happy holiday. The Facebook caption is “The Wish,” and this effort has been going on for the past few years.

The group posts a letter from either a person in need in Pecan Grove or a friend who knows that neighbor would never ask for help.

The struggles they face are overwhelming. Lost jobs, health issues, inability to keep up with house maintenance due to illness and more.

But Santa’s elves in Pecan Grove come to the rescue.

For one family, the elves came and cut the grass, shaped up the trees and lawn and got companies to donate to help create a beautiful place in the back yard so the mom could have a beautiful place to recuperate while undergoing chemotherapy.

The elves provided hayrides, gift certificates to local grocery stores and more than the person ever asked for or thought possible.

It’s easy these days where there’s overwhelming bad news, rising prices, and a general depression about the state of the world. That pessimism can overshadow the good that’s happening here in our community.

Many thanks to the people in Pecan Grove for going above and beyond in yard decorating and putting up with traffic snarls and crowded streets to bring strangers holiday joy. The look on children’s faces as they look at the displays is worth a million dollars.

But to know these neighbors also reach out and help those in need is all the reminder I need that the world is going to be just fine.

Their generosity reminds me of one of my favorite quotes from the late Fred Rogers.

“When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, ‘Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.’”

Mr. Rogers’ mother was right.

The helpers are right here in our community, neighbors helping neighbors, people helping strangers and angels making sure those in need are comforted.

Thank you, Pecan Grove, for reminding us that giving to those in need is what really keeps the world a holy and loving place.

Merry Christmas to you and yours!

 

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald. 

I remember teaching my teenage sons how to drive. My right foot stomped the floorboard constantly as I yelled “brake, brake.” There were probably fingernail holes in the dashboard as they considered stretches of open road as an invitation to practice their Daytona 500 skills.

Now our eldest grandson is practicing his driving skills. Alex and I spend a lot of time in the car together, so I’ve become one of his primary instructors.

Poor kid.

We started out in a mostly deserted school parking lot with Alex getting comfortable with the brakes and handling the steering wheel and gas pedal.

One of the toughest driving lessons is learning how wide the car is. That helps a driver stay in his or her lane without hitting a mailbox or a trash can. From first-hand knowledge of hitting both things when I learned how to drive, I knew that was an important skill.

Then there’s driving when there’s oncoming traffic. Years ago, cars were a lot smaller, but the lanes stayed the same width. Alex has to learn how to stay in his lane when an oversized F-250 truck is barreling down the other side of the road.

These are all mechanical lessons. The hardest lesson is defensive driving, namely avoiding stupid drivers.

Every time we’ve gone out, we’ve witnessed bonehead moves. I never realized how many stupid maneuvers people make until I started paying attention for Alex’s sake.

On one of our first excursions, we saw a truck come to a complete halt in the middle of a busy intersection, back up, and then turn left.

We’ve seen more than one driver run a red light, barrel through a stop sign without slowing down and cross four lanes of traffic on the freeway to exit.

In just a few outings, we’d seen enough bonehead moves to last a lifetime. But we needed to move on, and that next lesson was freeway driving.

We had a trip planned to visit Texas State University in San Marcos, and the best way to get there is Interstate 10.

In reality, few of us are equipped for the free-for-all known as I-10, but I hoped this stretch of highway away from any major cities would be a little calmer.

He handled the interstate with skill and calm. He did the same driving in the rain and driving when daylight turns dark.

With those maneuvers down pat, we moved to the next item on the learning-to-drive list – handling roundabouts. They’re supposed to be safer, but Texas drivers don’t have a clue how to drive on them.

Nobody knows who has the right-of-way, and the philosophy is whoever drives the fastest gets to merge whenever they want.

Not the lesson I want to teach, but we’ll handle that one in January.

Then there’s parallel parking. The only reason we’re going to tackle this maneuver is because it’s on the driving test. My advice to Alex was to keep driving until he found a parking lot.

One of our last lessons will be driving on I-10 to downtown Houston. Our son-in-law had our granddaughter drive there at night so she could learn interstate driving, night-time driving and how to get around city streets.

I told Alex we’d get up early on a Sunday morning and go when there’s not as much traffic. I’m not as brave as our son-in-law.

Helping Alex practice driving has been a fun shared experience, and I’m thrilled I play a small part in his learning. Wish us luck as we continue to tackle the next two hardest lessons when behind the wheel of a vehicle – parallel parking and handling bone-head drivers.

 

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald. 

 

There’s a reason there’s a box of tissues in every pew at funerals. We shed tears as we remember our loved ones. But I wonder if for some people, being remembered with tears isn’t the choice they’d make.

One of the elders in our family, Aunt Mary Bett, recently passed away at the age of 95. She was a teacher, registrar, avid reader and cook. Mostly, she loved being a “Siti,” the Lebanese word for grandmother.

I wasn’t looking forward to the tears, but that’s not how Aunt Mary lived her life, and it wasn’t how her family honored her.

Instead, they chose to celebrate her life. Aunt Mary’s granddaughters created colorful posters with pictures featuring the different fun occasions the family shared.

As I went from poster to poster, one fact stood out – Aunt Mary was not only there, but she was an active participant in the festivities. Relatives spoke about Aunt Mary with laughter, and the photos surrounding us of her reflected her sunny disposition.

After the wake, we went to Aunt Mary’s house for food and visiting. Having the opportunity to reconnect with cousins was incredible. The cousins sat around the table – Aunt Mary’s favorite spot – and swapped family stories and lots of laughs.

We had shared memories of summers in Olean, N.Y., the homes and buildings we remembered roaming when we were kids. I came to appreciate even more their parents and our shared grandparents and great-grandparents.

Reminiscing about how our family made it through the early difficult years reminded me how fortunate I am to come from such strong people. That tough gene is obvious in my cousins who are incredible men and women.

It might sound weird to say I was glad I went to a funeral, but family bonds were strengthened that evening. I think Aunt Mary would be happy knowing we were sitting around her table sharing family lore.

On the way home, I thought about the hundreds of times my family has sat around a dinner table, talking for hours, playing games, eating and then going back for seconds. We went from kids around the table to teenagers to young adults to having grandchildren sit on our laps.

In all those occasions, there’s one constant – our mom. In the beginning she cooked all the food we ate. Later, she guided us as we slowly took over kitchen duties. Not only did she make sure we were all fed, Mom made sure she came to family functions.

Mom attended the graduation festivities for almost every grandchild, even the ones who lived in a different state. I took for granted she was going to come. I never considered the time she put in to make sure she was there for family.

Whenever she physically can, our 93-year-old Mom comes to family events for her great-grandchildren, and the little ones love to come and talk to her.

That showing up runs in our family. Our beloved Aunt Bev, who passed away much too young, came to almost every wedding and celebration we had.

It didn’t matter that she and our Uncle Jim had to book flights from Buffalo, N.Y. to Louisiana to celebrate with us.

It didn’t matter if it was summer in the South. Those two Northerners came and smiled through the humidity and heat.

Sorrow is a tough emotion, but it’s eased when shared by those who share your past.

Joy is a powerful emotion and enhanced when shared by those who love you.

If you’re lucky to be part of a large, healthy extended family – aunts, uncles, cousins upon cousins – try and attend family celebrations and, yes, even the sorrowful ones.

I like to think Aunt Mary was sitting with us that night, laughing at the stories we remembered. We’re connected when we sit around the kitchen table and share not only bread but memories.

 

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald. 

Poor Thanksgiving.

Overlooked.

Demoted.

Underappreciated.

As I drive around town and shop in the stores, I’m surrounded by Christmas decorations. There’s red and green garland, ornaments and elves on the shelves in every store.

Know what I see on the clearance aisle? Thanksgiving decorations.

Thanksgiving used to be one of the bigger holidays of the year. Commercials advertised a piping hot turkey resting on a big platter. Moms were filling bowls with mashed potatoes and gravy. An orange tablecloth covered the table, and marshmallow ambrosia was on the table for everyone to have seconds.

Growing up, our mom made sure we had all the traditional Thanksgiving dishes – turkey, bread dressing, salad, mashed potatoes, rice, gravy and rolls. Her favorite dessert was pumpkin pie, and it’s the only time of the year she made it.

We’d watch a football game in the afternoon, fall asleep on the couch, and then go back for seconds a few hours later. Thanksgiving was a day when we gave thanks, ate ourselves into oblivion and vowed we wouldn’t eat turkey again for six weeks.

All that has ended.

I’m not sure if it’s a rebound from covid or the sad state of the economy, but people are Christmas crazy. I was in an arts and crafts store, and people were lined up at the cash register, their carts filled with Christmas decorations.

One shopper was pushing a cart with a stuffed gingerbread man that hung off the sides because it was so big. People were buying artificial Christmas trees so fast, the loudspeaker crackled with “John, report to the front for a tree take out” every two minutes.

Stores no longer wait until the day after Thanksgiving to start promoting Christmas and holiday shopping. They started this frenzy right after the back-to-school supplies were pulled from the shelves.

That’s not an exaggeration.

But I feel for Thanksgiving.

The day was once a big deal, a time moms spent weeks getting ready for. There was the shopping for a big frozen turkey, knowing how many days it would take to thaw out the bird in time to pop it in the oven at 6 a.m. so families could sit down at noon.

There was chopping – onions and celery – and making sure there was nutmeg and cinnamon in the pantry for the pies.

Even though I’m not a good cook, I enjoy cooking on Thanksgiving. I buy a big turkey as soon as I see them because the bigger birds are the first to go.

After the turkey has been procured, it’s time to shop for everything else. My grocery store list for Thanksgiving has at least 20 items on it.

There’s the 10-pound bag of potatoes because I like to make mashed potatoes from scratch. Then there’s the dried cornbread dressing mix. My son prefers baked cornbread which I might actually attempt this year.

The Wednesday before, I bake an apple pie, cherry pie and a pecan pie. Sometimes I’ll bake brownies, but that’s only if I have time. I usually forget to buy a can of cranberry sauce, so that’s a run-to-the-store Wednesday night.

We use the good china and we give thanks before we sit down to eat. We are blessed and fortunate to have so many incredibly good things and people to be grateful for. It’s the one day centering around remembering the gifts we’ve been given.

That’s why my Thanksgiving decorations won’t come down until the turkey’s stored in the fridge and all the pie is gone.

I want the last Thursday of November to know – I respect you.

It’s a fabulous and, in my heart, much appreciated holiday – Thanksgiving.

 

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald. 

This week, our eldest granddaughter turned 18 years of age, that magical threshold when a child crosses over into adulthood.

Kylie’s been adulting for a while – she’s in NHS and theatre, has a part-time job, drives herself to and from school and makes wise decisions.

As she’s already been accepted into the college of her dreams, there’s not a lot of time to make sure we’ve prepared her for life away from home.

Before you head off to college, my dear, sweet, wonderful granddaughter, in no particular order, here’s a few last-minute bits of advice.

Register to vote. It’s an incredible way to have a say in how your government conducts business, especially on the local level.

You’ll meet people with good intentions and those with not-so-good intentions. Knowing the difference will serve you well.

Be open to meeting new people. Find out about their customs, culture, likes and dislikes. Understand not all will be people you want to keep in your life.

Get rid of people detrimental to your personal growth and character. Don’t feel bad about crossing them off your list. Human parasites will drain you of positive energy.

Forgive when it’s right to forgive. Some people don’t deserve forgiveness. Accept that and move on.

Don’t get a credit card unless you can pay the balance in full each month. Compound interest is the most powerful force in the universe, and it can sink you. If you can’t pay cash, don’t get it.

Pay attention to the details, from choosing classes to buying a car to renting your first apartment. Read the fine print.

When considering a potential partner in life, examine how they live their life. Small bad habits turn into big bad habits. Conversely, good habits turn into fabulous habits.

Notice how they treat their family. Are they still on good terms? Does the family laugh or treat holidays and people in a respectful manner? Do they have lots of friends or co-workers or do they find fault with everyone around them. If so, run, don’t walk, away.

Don’t stay in a job or profession you don’t love. Life is too short to be miserable. In fact, the gift of life is too short to be anything less than enthusiastic about everything.

Come visit us when you can but remember we’ll understand when you don’t come. You’ve got a big life to live, my sweet granddaughter and that means you’re out there exploring the world. That makes me much happier than an afternoon where we sit and watch “Wicked” for the 10^th time.

Be kind to your sister. In this world, our sisters are our soulmates, even though you want to wring her neck. One day soon, she will turn into your best friend for life. I speak from experience.

Trust your relatives, especially the strong women you have in your lineage. They’ve forged a path for you. Follow but make your own way.

Enjoy college. In fact, enjoy every step of the way as you move through life.

See the world. See this big, beautiful planet with your own eyes. Ski down a mountain covered with quiet snow. Sit on a warm beach and enjoy the sunset. Snorkel in crystal clear waters, lunch at a mom-and-pop diner and walk the streets of a big, bustling city.

Find something to do in your leisure time that brings you joy. If that’s puzzles, do that. If it’s writing music or lyrics, sit down at a desk and get busy.

No matter where you are or what you do, create incredible memories.

Happy 18^th birthday to our dear, sweet, smart, talented, loving and beautiful granddaughter. Blow out the candles on your cake and make your dreams come true.

That’s our birthday, and lifelong, wish for you.

 

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald. 

After decades of continuous service, my Magnalite pots and pans are showing their age.

Most Louisiana cooks over the age of 40 swear by two types of pots and pans – Magnalite and cast-iron. Magnalite doesn’t require any special care, but the cast-iron ones need a little spoiling.

I don’t have a lot of the black cast-iron pots, but the ones I have are the workhorses of the kitchen.

Rounding out the collection is inexpensive cookware. They don’t last as long and they have a few other drawbacks.

Food sticks to the surface of the pans after a while, and the pots warp. Trying to balance an uneven pot full of hot water on the stove is not easy.

Perhaps, I told myself when throwing away two cheap pans, I might as well buy a good set that will last instead of replacing the cheap ones every couple of years.

That longevity, I discovered, costs.

A 10-piece high-quality stainless-steel set of pots, pans and lids runs right at $800.

That’s more than I paid for my couch.

As I don’t like to cook, paying that much for pots and pans seems a waste of money. I decided to make sure the cheap pans last a long time. This feat can be accomplished by cooking in the air fryer and the microwave.

It’s not just pots and pans that are expensive. Gone are the days of the inexpensive Pyrex mixing bowls that nest inside each other. New bowls start at $9 each.

Kitchen gadgets can be expensive. A wireless Bluetooth meat thermometer can run as high as $270. A fork stuck in the middle of a chicken thigh works just as well.

A good set of cutting knives will also break the bank. One six-piece set I saw was over $700. I’ve had the same set of knives for over 50 years. They need sharpening, but they get the job done.

I own a few other geriatric kitchen items. A set of orange Tupperware measuring cups are my go-to whenever I’m baking, and I know they date back to the 1980s.

Same for the baking sheets I’ve had for decades. Sure they’re a little beat up, but they work perfectly fine when baking cookies or a frozen pizza.

We’ve used the same forks and knives for years. They don’t match, but they’re capable of getting food from the plate to our mouths without a hitch.

My glass Pyrex baking pans are a little etched, but the baked chicken comes out dry.

My fault, not the pan’s.

Maybe if I had that $700 meat thermometer, I wouldn’t overcook the chicken.

Our coffee mugs are all different colors and designs, but each one represents a memory of where we’ve been or a special occasion.

Some things aren’t expensive to replace. Potholders are usually less than $10 for a set of three, but I use the ones my grandmother crocheted over 50 years ago.

The potholders are lightly stained, and I’ve had to sew up a few rips over the years, but there’s no way I’d leave them in a drawer, forgotten and left to rot from not being used. They were made with love by my grandmother, and they’re priceless to me.

After researching new pots and pans, I made a decision. The pots and pans I have now suit our needs, so I’ll see if I can get a few more decades out of them.

Just because something’s a little dinged up doesn’t mean it’s outlived its usefulness.

I could be talking about myself, but for right now, we’ll stick with the Louisiana queen of the kitchen – Magnalite – and her princess – cast iron.

 

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald. 

Some people love when the seasons change. Daylight either stays a bit longer or disappears earlier.

The temperature either warms enough for us to haul out our shorts or cools enough to bring out the long pants.

The change also brings a visitor.

This visitor is unwelcome.

This visitor is a nuisance, mostly in the morning.

The visitor?

Seasonal allergies.

I don’t need the weather folks to tell me when the season is changing. My allergies alert me the minute a front starts to roll in.

The allergies start with a stuffy nose when I wake up. The first sign is my nose feels like it’s stuffed with cotton. Then my eyes start to itch, my throat feels scratchy and, as an added bonus, there’s the sinus headache.

That one hits about 4 a.m. After years of battling the pounding in my forehead, I found what works. I take two Migraine Strength Excedrins and get a bag of frozen peas out of the freezer. The peas, a blanket and my miserable self huddle down on the couch, the frozen peas over my eyes.

After a couple of hours, the headache’s gone, and I feel like I’ve gotten a spa treatment as the puffy eyes, another byproduct of allergy season, have gone down a bit.

Then there’s the sneezing.

When the allergies arrive, I don’t sneeze a quiet, gentle lady-like “ah-choo” into the crook of my elbow. It’s a loud honk that scared the dog.

Plus, I don’t sneeze just once. My allergies make sure I sneeze at least a dozen times to be sure I’m good and aggravated. They don’t want me to forget I’m allergic to whatever pollen, dust or mold spores are floating around the atmosphere.

I stopped keeping a box of Kleenex next to my computer because that’s gone in a few hours. I use a roll of toilet tissue – it’s soft, inexpensive and lasts through two days of sneezing and sniffling.

I’ve tried a variety of medications. There’s the pill you’re supposed to take before allergy season rolls around to potentially ward off the unwelcome visitor.

After a month of taking the pills, when allergy season arrived, I was still sneezing on the couch with a bag of frozen peas on my face.

Some of the medications have side effects. One type I tried made me a zombie. I practically fell asleep on my lunch sandwich but at least I wasn’t sneezing. Another drug dried my nose up so much, I had nose bleeds.

I’ve tried natural ways to deal with allergy symptoms. Hot, herbal tea works well, but even the non-caffeinated ones keep me awake.

Honey is supposed to help the throat, but I pour so much honey in the cup, I might as well eat a Snickers bar and a bag of peanut M&Ms.

One year, I tried a neti pot. They are advertised as being magical in helping clear out one’s sinus passages.

Getting the hang of a neti pot is a feat in acrobatics. My first few tries, the water spilled over in my eyes and dribbled down into my ears.

After I got the hang of using the pot, I did feel a little better. That is until I read an article that the improper use of a neti pot can increase the chances of an infection in, horrors, the brain.

I weighed the pros and cons and decided I’d rather sneeze than risk anything else compromising my brain.

Here we are, a few days into this seasonal shift. Once again, I’m back to sneezing and rubbing my eyes, waiting for the unwelcome visitor to realize it has outstayed its welcome and move on.

At least until the weather changes again.

And then it’s time to buy another bag of frozen peas.

 

   This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald. 

I took my 11-year-old grandson to a Scout meeting. After we returned to his house, Jason said he still had a little bit of homework.

As he pulled out his packets, I told him I’d sit with him and answer any questions he might have. He had a few math problems to solve, and I lost my confidence.

I’m not a math whiz. In fact, I’m barely competent when it comes to math. I have a hard time remembering numbers, and I beg people to double-check me when it comes to anything related to numbers.

At first, the homework didn’t seem difficult. His class was learning long division, and he said he understood most of the work. It’s been years, probably decades, since I had to figure out long division without the aid of a calculator.

I understand why elementary-aged students need to understand the process of long division as it’s the next step after addition, subtraction and multiplication.

I looked at the worksheet, and the first problem seemed easy enough – 212 divided by 4.

I thought about the process – four doesn’t divide into the 2 but it can work with 21. That’s 4 times 5 equals 20. That leaves a remainder of 1. Bring down the 2 and that makes 12. Three times 4 equals 12. Problem solved.

At least I hoped that was right. I double checked using my phone and, yep, 53 was the right answer. I looked at Jason’s paper. He had drawn boxes and circles to count out the numbers. He was also running out of room in the box provided on the worksheet.

Fifteen minutes later, he’d solved the first problem.

My heart went out to him.

Old-school ways aren’t always the best – imagine churning butter – but this “new” math seems cumbersome and time wasting.

Old-school math put an astronaut on the moon, and the tools scientists used, besides their brains, were slide rules and adding machines.

As I watched Jason slug through three more problems, using lines, boxes, circles and other ways to break apart the numbers, I resisted telling him that as an adult, he’d probably never have to manually use long division.

A laptop, computer or phone can give him the answer in seconds. A $5 calculator will calculate percentages and figure out the square root of a number.

There’s a long list of why we have to learn how to break processes down, and I understand the philosophy. My grandmother taught me how to sew. She explained my sewing machine could hem, make a buttonhole and satin stitch, but if I ever needed to repair a rip or tear, I’d know how because she taught me the basic stitches.

Because I went to a Catholic elementary school with nuns at the chalkboard, I can diagram a sentence in my sleep.

I don’t think there’s a person under the age of 40 who can diagram a sentence, but I’m glad I understand the role each word in a sentence plays.

Diagramming might be fun for some of us, but it doesn’t take the place of a fluid vocabulary and knowing the parts of speech.

Knowing long division can help a student understand how numbers are broken down. But making an easy math problem difficult doesn’t make sense to me.

Ah, but I sound like an old codger. All I need is a corn-cob pipe and a rocking chair to finish the scene.

Lord only knows what Jason will have to go through when the teacher presents the next step in long division – a remainder.

From what I saw, he’ll need another three sheets of paper.

 

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.