Now that the graduation ceremonies are over, parents are getting a son or daughter ready for college.

If you thought back-to-school shopping when they were in elementary school was expensive, you have no idea what’s ahead of you now.

When I went to college oh so many years ago, everything I needed fit in the back of my mom’s Vega station wagon. My roommate’s mom repainted an old table and two chairs. We were perfectly content with a mini-fridge and bunk bed with matching blue ribcord bedspreads from Penney’s.

By the time our eldest son went to Texas A&M University, things had changed.

We helped him move in, but he and his roommates took it from there, and they were proud of their improvements.

There was marble contact paper on the floor, so their room looked like a marble palace.

A couch, rescued from the dumpsters outside the dorm, was one of their best finds. It seems when students move out at the end of the summer, they throw away perfectly good furniture because they don’t want to hassle with taking it home.

Hence the couch.

When our second son went to college, I was better prepared. He’s a no-frills person, and I had an idea that we could outfit his dorm room for $50 or less if we went thrifting. We found everything he needed in one store.

Granted, none of the items matched, everything needed a thorough cleaning, but the price was right. We patted ourselves on the back for our thriftiness.

That was then.

This is now.

No more putting a mini fridge on the floor and stacking boxes of Frosted Flakes and Cap’n Crunch on top. Now rooms require modular shelves that fit over the fridge so you can store a microwave, matching dishes and healthy snacks.

Forget bunk beds. They’re “lofted” beds with a special shelf so you can put a $60 WooZoo fan right next to your teen’s head while they sleep.

Today’s dorm room furnishings look like they came from Pottery Barn, or a professional decorator was turned loose with a blank check.

Everything matches, from the full-size rug to the curtains and the blotter on the desk. The bed requires a $100 mattress pad, extenders, and enough throw pillows to choke a horse.

The most over-the-top pillow I saw was one with a picture of the family pet on it so teens could cuddle Fido at night.

I don’t think Taylor Swift lives this good.

Another must-have is a vacuum cleaner. I don’t think I ever vacuumed my dorm room. Or swept. Or mopped. We used napkins we swiped from the cafeteria to clean up.

Tool kits are deemed essential with the college student’s initials embossed on the front in, you guessed it, colors that match the rug, curtains, bedspread, and blotter.

We had a plastic percolator from TG&Y. Today’s college kids need espresso machines. They also need a rolling laundry kit with room for detergent pods, fabric softener and stain removal pens, not a $2 plastic laundry basket.

A memory foam mattress pad will set you back $90, and some dorm rooms have a big-screen television on the wall.

One of the items I agree with is a medicine kit. One mom had enough supplies to treat a village. I suppose she doesn’t believe there’s a drug store in her daughter’s college town.

One thing that hasn’t changed is that dormitories are a smelly around-the-clock beehive of activity. Living in one is an experience one can only survive when young.

Good luck shopping over the summer, parents.

You and your wallet are going to need it.

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald. 

While on a visit to Baton Rouge, I was hoping to sample some mudbugs as March through May is prime crawfish season.

A crawfish boil in Louisiana is much like a backyard barbecue in Texas with a few exceptions.

Texans need a barbecue pit, cold beverages, and charcoal.

Cajuns need a propane burner, a large pot, cold beverages, and lots of seasoning.

Both celebrations are best when held in someone’s back yard where there’s a wooden picnic table, and kids can run through a sprinkler.

We had quite a few crawfish boils in the Hebert family. Cousins and friends would throw a party whenever the mudbugs were inexpensive and plentiful.

Getting ready for a crawfish boil means covering the picnic tables with layers of newspaper. The reason for the layers is that after the first batch of crawfish is dumped on the table, you roll up the top two layers of newspaper with the crawfish shells and throw that away. Then the table is ready for the next round.

Dump, eat, and repeat.

When the crawfish boils were at our house, Dad would arrive a few hours before we started with big mesh bags filled with crawling, snapping crawfish.

I remember spraying the snapping crustaceans with the hose every few minutes to keep them alive while my dad seasoned the water in the big pot. Just like cooking brisket, crawfish cooking recipes are often passed down from generation to generation.

Each cook has his or her own secret to cooking tender, well-seasoned crawfish. Some people use pre-measured boxes of seasoning created for shrimp, crab and crawfish.

Others use their own heavily guarded recipe of salt, cayenne pepper, paprika, garlic and liquid crawfish boil concentrate. Some cooks add other spices, but hot seasoning is a must-have.

Next comes what to boil with the crawfish. Savvy cooks never let that seasoned water go to waste.

Growing up, the only extra foods thrown in the big pot were small red potatoes and corn-on-the-cob. These extras soaked up the seasoning and were often spicier than the crawfish.

Cajun cooks these days fill mesh bags with green beans or asparagus, brussels sprouts and carrots.

My nephew was in charge of the crawfish for Mother’s Day, and he uses his father’s award-winning recipe. He added links of hot sausage and cocktail links, and both were a big hit. The crawfish were perfectly cooked.

As usual, we debated about how long to cook the crawfish and how to cool them down.

There’s those who believe one adds ice directly to the water at the end of the boiling period and those who let the crawfish cool down naturally.

No matter who’s doing the cooking, crawfish boils follow the same script.

After the agreed-upon time for soaking and cooling, it’s time to dump those now red, steaming crawfish and extras out onto the newspaper-covered picnic table.

Guests stand around the table, peeling, sucking the heads, dipping potatoes in butter and chasing all that down with a cold beer with either an LSU baseball game or Zydeco music on the radio.

There’s usually a wise relative around the table showing the young ones how to snap and twist off the tail, suck the heads and then clean the meat out of the claws.

They teach them not to eat the ones where the tails are flat because they weren’t alive before they were cooked.

In Texas, nothing beats backyard barbecues. In Louisiana, nothing comes close to a spring afternoon and peeling crawfish until your fingers sting.

Mais oui, cher, dat’s a good time.

 

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald. 

 

Growing up in a small town has its advantages. Every Sunday, my family would attend Mass followed by lunch with our aunts, uncles and cousins at our grandparents’ house.

At the time, I didn’t think much about who was cooking all that food. That chore fell to my grandmother, Albedia, who cooked enough Lebanese food to feed at least 20 people every single Sunday.

She never asked for help nor did she complain. I took her hours in the kitchen for granted all those Sundays.

I carried that oversight with my mother. She worked outside the home when we moved to Louisiana. There were seven children in our house, but Mom never made us feel like we were second to her job.

She left the office promptly at 4:15 p.m., was home no later than 4:35 p.m. and had a hot dinner on the table by 6 p.m. No fast-food pizzas or burgers.

We had home-cooked meals every night, including a dessert. Plus, she did all the shopping, from food to shoes, for everyone in the family.

On Sundays, Mom would pop a roast into the oven before we left for Mass. Dinner after church was mandatory – we did not miss sitting down as a family on Sundays.

It never occurred to me that Mom might be tired or need a break. A few years ago, I asked how she managed everything, and she said she didn’t think about it.

“I did what needed to be done,” she said.

Moms are some of the most underappreciated and least thanked people on the planet.

It’s not just at home where we take moms for granted. We expect women to leave their personal life behind when they enter the work force.

They’re supposed to give 100 percent at work and 100 percent at home. Sooner or later, something has to give, and that’s usually personal time for mom.

There’s so much that goes on in a child’s life that it’s a constant balancing act to keep all those plates in motion.

Because of social media, women often compare themselves to mothers whose homes look like something out of “House Beautiful.”

They see women exercising while cooking natural foods, turning trash into treasures and painting murals on their child’s walls.

My house was messy, the closest natural foods I had were apples from the grocery store and the only murals on the walls were when the boys found the markers.

Once children enter school, the workload doubles. There’s notes to teachers, forms to fill out, field trips that need chaperones, summer activities that require deposits and ensuring you have all the pre-requisites completed.

With social media, moms have to constantly monitor their child’s online activities.

Throw in schools with dress-up days requiring parents to make sure they have cowboy hats and boots, sequins, crazy socks, T-shirts in every color of the Crayola box and let’s not forget pajama day at least once a month.

Enough already.

Here’s a salute to all those moms who are driving carpool and creating dioramas out of pipe cleaners and castles out of empty toilet paper rolls.

Here’s to the mom who’s running to the store at 9 p.m. because her child forgot to tell her it’s “anything-but-a-backpack” day and she has to find something for her child to take his books to school in the next day.

Here’s to the mom who loves with all her heart, worries with all her soul and beams with pride when her child shines.

If no one’s told you this recently, Mom, you are appreciated.

You are loved.

Happy Mother’s Day!

 

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald. 

The Class of 2026 is waving goodbye to research papers, standardized testing and restroom passes. Graduation is here, and most seniors can’t wait for their big day.

When a teen graduates from high school, we hope they’ve been taught the academic basics. Those skills include algebra, the history of the world and the difference between bring and take.

In between academics, we hope they know how to wash clothes, watch out for credit card scams and what to do in case of a fender bender.

Practical knowledge is out there on the Internet. There’s no need to guess how to fold a fitted sheet or how to build a bookshelf. YouTube, Google and Chat GPT have the answers.

But life is more than practicality. Here’s a few examples of the intangibles we hope you take with you on this next phase of your life.

Know when to leave the laundry and homework for a walk outside. Listen to your emotions and your body and escape digital noise for a few minutes. Put the phone away and listen to the birds sing and feel the breeze on your skin.

Remember what’s important and what’s not. Going out with friends is important. Some memories stay with you throughout your life while others fade. Some of those friends will be with you for life. Most you’ll never see again. Learn to tell the two apart.

Not to sound like a cranky oldster, before texting, we actually talked to each other. Young people might call that the “old ways,” but they’re useful, even when you’re surrounded by technology.

So much information is available at the touch of a button. But when knowledge is gleaned from a computer screen and keyboard, there’s a loss of human connection. Some things are best learned person to person.

Teaching these intangible skills to someone you love, or having someone you love to explain them, often leaves a loving or funny memory. Those experiences are something artificial intelligence hasn’t been able to capture.

Listen to the stories from your grandparents and parents. So often, the events that made them who they are aren’t written down. You only get that information when you talk to them.

Knowing how your parents met, who their friends were in high school and their favorite movie growing up is priceless information.

There are a few more worthwhile intangibles, Class of 2026. Your parents or teachers might’ve been hard on you over the past four years. They had so much to teach you and so little time left. Understand they were coming from a position of love.

Practice chatting with another person. Before cell phones, we’d strike up a conversation with the person sitting next to us in the doctor’s office, on a slow elevator, or in a long line.

You will gain knowledge from strangers. Sometimes you’ll hear worthless information, but often, strangers that come across your path will create a wonderful memory. Put down the phone and have a real face-to-face conversation.

Along with talking to someone, remember to listen. Stop talking or figuring out what your response is going to be when someone’s talking to you.

Pay attention with your ears and your heart to what someone is trying to tell you. Before you answer, make sure you’re validating what the other person is saying and then state your point. All the knowledge in the world won’t help if you can’t listen.

People have memories, experiences and knowledge you can’t find anywhere else. Soak it all up before you head out into the world and practice all your life. The old ways are more useful now than ever before.

Best of luck, graduates! Make us proud.

 

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.