Twenty-one.
That’s the age many teenagers dream about because they’re officially considered an adult.
Twenty-one is a top casino game where players try to beat the dealer.
This week marks the 21st year I’ve been writing this column.
I took over the Thursday slot from Devoni Wardlow, a friend and fellow writer, when she moved away from the county.
I submitted three tentative editorial columns to then managing editor Bob Haenel, and he gave me the green light.
Grateful and terrified were the two feelings that accompanied me on that first week back in 1997 when I introduced myself to readers of The Herald-Coaster.
I thought I’d run out of topics after three months. Twelve weeks turned into six months which turned into a year, 10 years and then two decades.
For many years, my sons provided most of the ammunition for these columns. They’d pull some stunt, look at me with a sigh and say “This is going in the column, isn’t it.”
Absolutely.
Who could pass up writing about seeing their child sneak a Halloween pumpkin down the stairs in April, their first days of school or the stockpile of smelly socks I found in the back of their closets?
There were columns about the toys they had to have growing up – the White Power Ranger sword where I literally sprinted out of West Oaks Mall, ran the red light to get to the Toys R Us across Highway 6 and nabbed the last Power Ranger sword in stock.
Over the years, I’ve tried to capture motherhood in a humorous light. It’s either laugh or cry when one realizes the reason the washing machine is groaning and whining is because the college kid put in 25 pounds of stinky jeans and towels in the same load.
I’ve stayed away from politics as I don’t feel I’m qualified to pontificate on the pros and cons of who and what’s on the ballot.
I’m like most people – I vote for the candidate I hope and pray will do a good job and vote yea or nay on issues I think are in the best interest of the community.
Writing for this newspaper has allowed me to meet so many wonderful people from all walks of life and from all economic levels. They are often unrecognizable to the general public, but their contributions are the framework of what good citizenship is all about.
Some of the columns that are nearest to my heart are the ones I’ve written about people who dedicated their lives to improving this community – the late Arthur and Lydia Mahlmann, Hilmar Moore, Frank Briscoe and Kathleen Lindsey, to name a few.
And there are those I’ve written about who are still active well into their later years – Virginia Scarborough and Lucille Jackson are at the top of the list, and there’s hundreds more I’d love to write about.
I’ve worked with some of the best writers, reporters, photographers, carriers and newspaper support staffers around, and they’ve contributed more to my life than they’ll ever know.
Although there’s always a knot in my stomach every Thursday morning when the presses are running, working for this newspaper has provided me with a constant sense of gratitude.
I’m humbled and grateful to the Hartmans for allowing me to keep writing for them, to Bob Haenel for believing in me and giving me and other female opinion writers a chance, and to Scott Willey for allowing me to continue occupying this space on Thursdays.
Mostly, I’m grateful to those of you who take time to read this column. You’re the reason I sit in front of the computer, peck away, eat cookies, hit the delete button at least a hundred times and finally hit the send button.
Thank you for sticking with me for 21 years. Who knows what adventures are ahead?
This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.