This weekend, our high school seniors will put a square hat on their heads and walk across a stage to accept their graduation diploma.

For some, reaching this goal has been pretty easy. For others, the finish line was as tough as running a marathon.

      The community will welcome these graduates as young men and women, not teenagers any more, and that safety net called “high school” suddenly vanishes.

       The responsibilities of paying their own way and deciding to go to college or get a job will smash into their lives like a piano dropped out of a second-story window.

      But all is not doom and gloom, Class of 2016. There’s a huge world of opportunity out there, and it’s yours for the taking.

      If you have the guts.

      But, first, let’s talk about all the perks of being a fresh-out-of-school young adult.

      You can go to the restroom without asking for a pass from a teacher.

      You can be late for appointments without providing a written excuse from your parents. 

      There’s no more assigned reading for a grade. No more trying to decipher the complicated works of William Faulkner or suffering through sonnet after sonnet, courtesy of William Shakespeare.

       You can choose what you want to read – TMZ online, Reddit or the latest graphic novel. Better yet, if you want to play games on your iPhone until 4 a.m., nobody’s going to nag you about getting up to catch the bus.

      Yep, the adult world is pretty laid back.

      Until you have to pay the mortgage.

      Or fix the leak in your roof.

      Or figure out how to fill out your income tax form all on your own.

      The adult world, you suddenly realize, isn’t all strawberry shortcake with whipped cream on top.

      There are responsibilities, some of which seem overwhelming.

      But for each one of the responsibilities you inherit as an adult, there’s so much knowledge you’ll pick up along the way.

      Paying a mortgage makes you realize that all those math and algebra classes you took in high school weren’t always a waste of time.

      Fixing the leak in your roof gives you the confidence to lay a new floor in the living room, build a piece of furniture or replace a leaking toilet.

      As far as filling in your income taxes, the main lesson you’ll come away with is the government gets a whole lot of money, especially your money, and that in itself will motivate you to get down to the courthouse and register to vote.

      And as a voter, you’ll see the American judicial system in action. You might get a jury summons and you’ll gripe and complain just like every other adult.

But when you’re in the courtroom waiting for your name to be called as a prospective juror, you’ll see why having a jury of one’s peers is so important.

You could be one of 12 people deciding whether or not someone walks out of the courtroom that morning or is handcuffed and led away to the county jail.

      You’ll see police officers in a role other than someone to hassle you when you’re out past your curfew. You’ll understand why wearing jeans and a T-shirt is unacceptable when interacting with judges, lawyers and other jurors.

      Regular people are there seeking a fair and just trial, and they deserve respect. If you don’t weasel out of jury duty, you’ll come away with a deeper understanding of civic duty, much deeper than you learned in that high school government class.

More than anything else, you’ll learn that at least one person had their day in court, all because 12 people decided to accept the responsibility of being an adult.

So welcome to the adult world, Class of 2016.

Go get ‘em.

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.

One of the television shows my Aggie Boy and I enjoy discussing is HBO’s “Game of Thrones.” Aggie Boy is a long-time science-fiction reader, and he gave me the boxed set of George R.R. Martin’s epic stories one Christmas.

He wanted to have somebody to talk with about the mysterious world where kings battle each other to see who will ultimately sit on the Iron Throne.

This week, my husband came into the living room as a new “GOT” episode was coming on. He said he wanted to see what we were talking about so he could join in on the conversation.

He’s heard me talk about Throne’s major character, Jon Snow, for weeks, and he was curious about the question my son and I had been hashing out for months – is Jon alive or dead.

“Well, he was alive and then he was dead and now he’s alive again,” I explained when Jon appeared on the screen. “That beautiful woman in the red brought him back from the dead, but she’s really not young and beautiful – she’s an old woman.”

I found myself explaining about Jon’s siblings – one lives in a tree, one’s in a medieval cult and the youngest just got captured by the worst of the worst rulers in “Thrones.” I started in on the story of the Lannisters where a brother and sister have three children together – two of which died violently – the youngest has been banished for killing his father and the other has a golden hand.

And then I stopped myself. Trying to explain family histories on “Thrones” is like trying to unravel a knot.

“Just enjoy the sword fighting,” I said. “I’ll tell you who to root for.”

Luckily the scene changed to one of my favorite characters, Tyrion Lannister. I launched into an explanation of how he’s really smart but he did kill his father but can now talk to dragons.

“Dragons?” he said.

I launched into the back story of Daenerys Targaryen and how she hatched three dragon eggs in her husband’s funeral pyre and how she was queen and now she’s not the queen, and then my husband yawned.

I couldn’t blame him. I sounded like I was explaining the ridiculous plot to a daytime soap opera.

Which is exactly what “Thrones” is, I realized — a pricey soap opera set in some far away land. I have no room to poke fun at my mom for being a constant “Young and the Restless” viewer.

The last time I visited her, we sat down to watch her soap. That show was one of my favorites when I was in high school, and I was surprised to see some of the same people still playing their devious roles.

“Isn’t that Jack Abbott?” I asked, spotting a familiar face.

“He’s such a snake,” Mom said. “He’s in the hospital, but it’s not really him. It’s an imposter pretending he has amnesia.”

And, bingo, there it was. The amnesia card. No soap opera is complete without at least one incident of amnesia.

And, come to think of it, no season of “Thrones” is complete without a beheading.

I was starting to feel a bit foolish, but then I realized nothing beats real life for crazy stories.

Let’s see – a man who was an Olympic gold medalist will become a woman and host her own reality show. A billionaire with a ridiculous comb-over who once hosted a television show will be running for president of the United States.

So maybe a world of fire-breathing dragons and people who come back from the dead – still sporting the best hair on television – isn’t so farfetched.

Hey, maybe Trump will sit on the Iron Throne.

Stranger things have happened.

 

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.

 

 

      The 3-year-old couldn’t decide. Did she want a cupcake with Superman icing or one with a purple sugar butterfly on top? She took her finger out from between her lips and pointed at the girly butterfly cupcake.

      “That one,” she said with a big smile.

      When we handed her the cupcake, she stuck out her tongue and licked all the icing off in one quick motion.

      That’s the way kids are, I thought, chuckling to myself.

      And kids are kids, even special needs children like the ones I was interacting with this past weekend at Gigi’s Playhouse, a 501(c)(3) charitable organization in Sugar Land.

      I know about Gigi’s Playhouse through Amanda Hudson. We’ve been friends for many years, and her granddaughter was born with Down syndrome two years ago.

Amanda and her family embraced their precious grandchild with love and a commitment to provide the best education possible for her.

      They helped open a center through Gigi’s Playhouse, a national organization of over 28 achievement centers that serves children and adults of all ages. They offer a variety of educational and therapeutic programs for free to families in an atmosphere and format where individuals with Down syndrome learn best.

      At Gigi’s in Sugar Land, the rooms are painted in bright pastels, and each room serves a special purpose. There’s the arts and crafts room where crayons, paints, stickers and pom-poms are within easy reach for the children.

      The toddler room is specially outfitted with safe toys to stimulate motor development but, at the same time, stimulate the child’s imagination with colorful toys and decorations.

      Professional therapists and teachers donate their time and knowledge to create stimulating programs and therapy sessions. I overheard a volunteer talking with a mom about the upcoming speech therapy session, and the volunteer patiently answered every question this mother asked.

      That’s because this volunteer has a child with Down syndrome, and she understood this mom’s need to find as many answers as possible.

      As her daughter was getting her face painted, one mom told us she’d come from the other side of Houston. She saw Gigi’s Playhouse online and couldn’t wait to bring her daughter to the carnival.

      Doctors didn’t know exactly what syndrome her daughter had, but it didn’t matter when that child was bouncing in the bounce house, a huge smile on her face. Nor did it matter that some children didn’t want to have their faces painted, but a big flower on the back of their hand was simply delightful.

      The youngsters at this carnival enjoyed the prizes they won at the duck pond, loved throwing the baseball at the empty paint cans and giggled with delight when they won a cupcake at the cake walk.

      But as much as the children enjoyed the carnival, the teen-age volunteers received just as much satisfaction. Many came because they wanted the service hours to fulfill a requirement for graduation, but that duty quickly vanished as the children climbed up on the teens’ laps and freely gave hugs.

      I volunteered because I thought I wanted to give back because my three sons and my four grandchildren don’t have disability hurdles to climb. I thought I was doing something for children in need when I got out of my car.

      But I was wrong.

      I learned that having a disability like Down syndrome doesn’t hinder a child from the pure joy that comes from having fun at a kid’s carnival. Those youngsters had given me more than I’d given them – the understanding that we’re all created special. Some a little more than others.

      If you’d like to volunteer at Gigi’s Playhouse or if you’d like to be involved in this worthwhile learning environment, email sugarland@gigisplayhouse.org or call 832-939-9919.  

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.  

Some of the best lessons in life are learned from the women in our lives. So it’s fitting that this week is not only Teacher Appreciation Week but also Mother’s Day.

I’m fortunate in that the males in my life were good role models, and I couldn’t be a mom without my three wonderful sons. But it’s been women who’ve created the most indelible memories for me.

First and foremost is my mom. She taught me to believe in myself, to love unconditionally and that no matter how much someone protests, offer them something to eat.

She’s doesn’t play favorites yet we all secretly believe we’re the favored one, an incredible balancing act she accomplishes every day.

My grandmothers were polar opposites. Marguerite always dressed in high heels, the latest fashions and smelled like Chanel No. 5.

She taught me how to sew, a skill I silently thank her for every time I thread a needle. She also taught me to put my feet up whenever possible to give my calves and ankles a rest.

My mom’s mother believed if she was wearing an apron and you were eating, everything was right in the world. From her, I learned the importance of filling a house with the smells of home-cooked foods.

My aunts were fabulous teachers, and their visits were ones I cherished. My Aunt Kathy taught me how to laugh at life and that pretty isn’t what’s on the outside. Aunt Claudia taught all of us that a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich is the perfect meal.

My Aunt Bev taught me how to knit, and she taught me to see the delicate beauty in antique china cups. She remembers my childhood, and she’s always willing to fill in the gaps.

But having a font of wisdom and knowledge doesn’t always come from the older generation.  

My two younger sisters not only shared a bedroom with me, they’re my confidants. Even though they know my most humiliating and embarrassing moments, they don’t sacrifice me for a cheap laugh.

      I’m blessed to have four sisters-in-law who love my brothers and me unconditionally. They taught me how to cook and season, set an elegant table, make sure our dog is part of the family and how to live prayerfully with a chronic illness.

My nieces are a reflection of their mothers. In them, I see strong young women who are charting their own paths, making smart life decisions and laughing at life when a curve ball comes their way.

From my daughter-in-law, I’m blessed to watch the loving seeds she’s planting in our grandchildren blossom. She’s brought new ideas and traditions into our family, and I’m thankful for her every day.

Even though my granddaughters are young, they’ve shown me it’s possible to love unconditionally. Seeing how they open their hearts without holding back has been a humbling lesson.

From my female cousins and friends, I’ve learned the cattiness depicted in the media between women is highly exaggerated.

I know I could call any one of them day or night and they’d be at my house in a flash, even if that meant showing up in a bathrobe and flip flops.

The female teachers in my life are made up of much more than someone in a classroom. The women in my life teach me life lessons every time we’re together, and I’m eternally grateful they’ve allowed me into their hearts.

So Happy Mother’s Day to all the moms out there, whether you’re a biological mom, a dad fulfilling that role, a step-parent, foster parent or someone willing to take on the title of mom.

By default, that makes you one of the best teachers around.

 

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.