While visiting my mom, we came across a light green digital camera in a desk drawer. Seeing the camera brought a smile to my face because I remember seeing that camera at family get togethers.

I complimented her for always having the camera handy, but secretly I thought she was probably one of the worst photographers in the family.

Family picture duties usually fell to my sister, Diane, an outstanding photographer. I’d also take my fair share because photographer extraordinaire Russell Autrey taught me to have my camera with me at all times.

Kodak Moments happen when we least expect them. But I’d get busy with the kids or other chores, and forget to take pictures.

In the background was Mom with that little green camera, snapping away. I’d always worry about the quality of the images based on some of my Mom’s early photos. The black-and-white photos in the albums usually showed a group of people – taken from far away — either off to the right or off to the left.

One of my favorite memories is when the girls in our family went to see interior decorator Christopher Lowell. We couldn’t wait to have our picture taken with him, and Mom remained seated because she didn’t want to wait in a long line.

When it was our turn, we realized the only one with a camera was Mom. There she was, all 4-foot 9-inches, crouched behind the autograph table with that little green camera.

“Don’t take our knees!” yelled Diane. “Focus on our faces!”

But that was the only picture we had from that day and it was because Mom had her camera ready.

I’d forgotten about the camera until she brought it out from the drawer. She’d never uploaded the images on the camera card, so we sat down and unloaded 270 pictures from the card.

We found a treasure.

Mom dated a wonderful man named Bert Bauerlin for many years until he passed away. Bert treated my mom like a queen. He always sent her flowers, and we were able to see pictures of most of the arrangements, thanks to Mom.

There were pictures from my niece’s graphic design show, and I marveled at the creative displays Kayla created. I’d heard about the reception, but Mom had captured the whole event with that little green camera.

Mom grew up in New York State and misses seeing the leaves change color in the fall. One year, she and Bert took a trip to the Blue Ridge Parkway, and she took lots of pictures of the mountains.

Sure some of the images had the car side window in the shot, but there was no missing the gorgeous scarlets, oranges and yellows dotting the countryside.

On that trip, they visited my niece, and seeing pictures of Hope’s children was a true delight. Today, Landon and Camryn are ready for middle school, and the pictures Mom took had us reminiscing about their escapades as little ones.

There was a baby picture of her great-granddaughter, Sophie. We got a little misty-eyed looking at little Sophie because her mom was exposed to a virus while pregnant.

Only because Courtney knew what to look for and was vigilant about taking every precaution to make sure her baby was healthy was the reason we have that beautiful girl with us today.

Seeing the picture of Sophie as an infant reminded me how precious our family is, and Mom’s pictures were the reason I was reminded.

Mom will continue to document our lives. Some of the images will be out of focus because that’s her style, but she captures the moments.

Keep snappin’ Mom and keep recording our lives.

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald. 

Father’s Day is Sunday, a time to honor the people in our lives who fulfill fatherhood responsibilities.

These days, the line between mom duties and dad duties has practically disappeared, but parenthood, no matter if you’re male or female, has a long list of responsibilities.

Here’s my list of what it takes to be a father in a Snap Chat, Netflix world:

First, be a good listener. It’s difficult to listen when we’re bombarded with constant noise, either from Pandora or a blaring television. When your child wants to talk, listen to the words they’re saying and the ones they’re not saying. Don’t interrupt –listen with an open heart and mind.

Second, be a disciplinarian. That doesn’t mean spanking or sending a child to bed without supper. That means making tough decisions and sometimes being unpopular. Parenting is hard, the hardest job in the world. Pull up those big-boy pants and take care of business.

Third, be a good citizen. Make sure your children see you vote. Keep your home and yard neat. Don’t throw loud parties until 2 a.m. Drive the speed limit and wear your seat belt. Respect law enforcement and teachers.

Fourth:  Be there. When your children are sick, when they’re well, when they win a game and lose a game. Pick them up on time, especially if you’re divorced. Call just to hear their voice and be available 24 hours a day. Not when it’s convenient. All the time.

Fifth:  Pay up. If they need braces, piano or dance lessons, car insurance or math tutoring, write the check. Check their school lunch account every month and don’t let them be embarrassed because you forgot to put money in their account. Pay your child support on time. If you’re the one receiving child support, spend that money on the children.

Sixth:  Pay attention. Children don’t come right out and tell us they’re lonely or being bullied. The only way to know what’s really going on is to pay attention – has their appetite dropped? Are they sleeping too much or too little? What clothes are they wearing and who are they hanging out with? A child chooses their friends. If that crowd isn’t what you think is best, it’s your job to find out why your child’s self-esteem is that low.

Seventh:  Have a sense of humor. YouTube is filled with videos of dads having fun with their children, so take a clue from these fun-loving parents. Dress up, tell them corny jokes, dance in the kitchen. Wear crazy aprons when barbecuing and have water-balloon fights in the back yard. Let loose and have some fun before they leave the nest.

Eighth:  Show up. If you said you’d be there, be there. Don’t miss a dance recital, awards ceremony or birthday party. Don’t miss an opportunity to pick your child up from school because that’s when they’re ready to talk. If you don’t show up, you miss those golden chances.

Ninth:  Provide for your family. That doesn’t mean you need a six-figure income, but it does mean that you provide them with food on the table, a roof over their heads and making sure they have what they need. You also provide them with the security that you won’t abuse them, you’ll protect them from harm and you’ll love them no matter what.

Tenth:  Teach them what the word “honor” means. It means you do what’s right instead of what’s easy. It means you never speak harshly about someone they love. Honor means taking time to help others, even when you’re bone tired yourself.

So to all our dads out there – grandparents, mothers, men, brothers, uncles, neighbors, step-parents, foster parents, cousins – Happy Father’s Day. Now get out your goofy ”Kiss-the-Cook” apron and enjoy that back-yard barbecue with the ones most precious in the world – your family.

 

       This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald. 

My husband hadn’t seen his hometown since he’d walked across the stage at Eastern High School in Middletown, Ken. in 1968, but the invitation to attend his 50-year high school reunion aroused his curiosity.

Looking through his old high school yearbook brought back memories of high-school pranks, dances, football games and track meets.

A few months later, we found ourselves on an airplane headed to Louisville, curious as to who’d come to the reunion and how their lives had unfolded.

We had an afternoon to explore the Middletown and Louisville areas before the activities began, so we drove through neighborhoods and streets he remembered as a boy.

So much had changed – there were sprawling subdivisions where there were once acres of woods and familiar landmarks were gone, replaced with shopping centers.

He was thrilled to find the same barbershop in the old downtown section. The traditional barbershop sign had seen better days, but the inside had been preserved just as it was back in the 1950s, down to a bottle of witch hazel by the sink and a vinyl green barber’s chair near the window.

We went to the high school and lucked up when a gracious assistant principal volunteered to take us around. Each corridor brought back memories – the gym where my husband had taken so many pictures because he’d been on the yearbook staff, finding the walk through from the neighborhood to the school parking lot and the sadness at seeing the school track in poor condition.

Soon it was time for the first activity of the reunion weekend – a scavenger hunt. Betty Southard Stokes was the yearbook editor at Eastern High School and once again was coordinating the reunion.

People arrived and greeted each other with a “Hey, weren’t you…” and then smiles and hugs. We divided up into teams with instructions to take pictures at city landmarks.

As we drove around, Emily and David, who’d stayed in the area, filled my husband in about where friends had gone, who’d passed away, their current and past jobs and, of course, reminiscing about life at Eastern High.

That night, almost 50 people came to reunion dinner, and classmates were remembered with fond anecdotes. As people shared stories of high-school escapades, they also updated folks about the status of those who weren’t there.

There was the suicide of one of their most talented artists, and the room collectively grieved when thinking about their talented friend. The man sitting next to us was ribbed about falling asleep in math class.

Later, his wife told us that he had a severely handicapped sister, and he had to take care of the sister when mom was at work. Often, those duties went on into the night, so naturally he was tired during the day. We discovered many people had obstacles no one knew about at the time.

Some classmates had fulfilled their dreams, others were still working on them. Some had remained relatively unchanged – the funny one, the engineering guru, the gifted writer – and others had followed a totally different path after they’d left high school.

On that one night in Louisville, a room was filled with people who stepped back in time, laughed about the time a group of boys cut down a neighbor’s prized dogwood tree to use as a decoration for the senior prom and still debated who was responsible for stealing the neighboring city’s landmark anchor.

For most of us, high school is the place where our personalities begin to blossom into who we’ll become as adults. Reunions are a time to reconnect with those who helped us maneuver through those tough, turbulent years.

Classmates are the ones who remember when we agonized about our first love, the decision about who to take to the senior prom and the feeling of accomplishment when we walked across the stage at graduation.

Knowing there’s people out there who experienced what we did is reassuring. We didn’t imagine the past. We lived it and so did they.

You go, Eagles, Class of 1968. You did the world proud.

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.

 

I’m on a committee to help plan a retirement party for a dear colleague, and we met today to finalize plans. It didn’t take long for me to realize I was in way over my head when it comes to party planning.

These wonderful women discussed chargers, table drapes and runners. My thoughts were cell phones use chargers, drapes hang from curtain rods and runners are what people do in the early mornings to stay in shape.

Not so with party planning.

Growing up, my mom took care of festivities. Over the years, she collected all the needed equipment for great parties – cake platters with lids, silver serving trays and specific party dishes – one for deviled eggs, a divided tray for olives and vegetables and others that remain a mystery.

When it came time to plan parties for my sons, I didn’t have to think deeply. A couple of packs of hot dogs, a store-bought cake and a gallon of Neapolitan ice cream were all the necessary ingredients. Throw in water balloons and I could’ve called them galas.

I helped out as a room mother for classroom parties, but I was the mom who raised her hand when the question was “Do we have any volunteers to clean up?”

I left the high-level party planning details to the sophisticated mothers who possessed all the secrets to throwing a terrific party.

Today, I marveled at the finesse these moms had for planning this retirement party. One mom brought a bag filled with a sample table runner and a tablecloth. She knew the silver and black would look stunning together, and she was right.

When she pulled a round mirror out of that bag, I knew to keep my mouth shut. I figured out from the pictures another mom had that the mirrors went on the table to reflect the candlelight.

Flowers were next on the list, and these moms knew the best deals for ordering bulk flowers.

They knew what bakeries could duplicate a photo for the top of the cake and that there’s a variety of frostings for cakes in every size and shape.

They also knew how to make a balloon arch.

“Impressed” doesn’t come close.

The clincher was when the mom coordinating the event brought out a color-coded chart for the tables and chairs, complete with directions as to how the traffic would flow.

I have no clue how she created that diagram on a computer and the correct way to arrange the tables so people would still have room to mingle and sit down.

“Why would people want to sit down if it’s a reception?” I asked.

These very nice women did not look as if an idiot had spoken. Under different circumstances, I would’ve rolled my eyes at someone who asked that dumb question.

“Some people like to sit down with their cake and visit so the tables and chairs are for them,” one said.

At the parties I’ve hosted, the kids stood up the whole time because boys have a hard time sitting while someone else is unwrapping a Nerf water blaster.

I came away from the meeting a smarter person.

Runners go down the middle of the table and add pizzazz to the tablecloth.

Chargers are not what women with a new Visa card are called – chargers are oversized plates that dress up ordinary plates.

And table drapes hang down the front of the tables to hide extra supplies.

When the day comes that I have to throw a grown-up party, I hope my mom will lend me her three-tiered tray.

It’s perfect to serve ketchup, mustard and relish for those hot dogs.

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.