After I saw the movie “Dances with Wolves,” I knew I had to see the rugged western United States before the “wild west” disappeared. It took a while, but I finally convinced my family to make the trip, and we fell in love with the beauty of the west.

My youngest son must’ve felt the same way because he heard the same call I’d had years ago.

He’d had a rough year.

In the fall, his house burned to the ground. Luckily, no one was home at the time, but to see ashes where your home once stood was devastating.

A couple of months later, Chris was injured in an on-the-job accident. Surgery on his finger was required, and his doctor told him he had to let the tendon heal.

While he was recuperating, he was able to spend a great deal of time with his four children, and being around his sons and daughters was more therapeutic than any antibiotic or surgical procedure.

A life-long dog lover, Chris also brought a baby bloodhound into his life but he remained restless.

In a conversation about places to visit, a friend told him about the Petrified National Forest in Arizona, and, for some reason, seeing something millions of years old intrigued him.

He remembered our trip to Yellowstone National Park but not the majesty an adult feels when seeing those rugged mountains, endless acres of rippling grasses and cobalt blue lakes reflecting snow-covered mountain peaks.

When one loses their home and there’s no job to go to every day, it’s easy to lose one’s way.

He needed an anchor.

He needed to find his way again.

So he loaded up an ice chest, a suitcase, and his puppy and headed west.

For many of us, driving those miles of deserted roadways through Texas, Arizona and New Mexico would be a nightmare, but not for Chris.

The miles gave him time to think and regroup.

He stopped at roadside shops and fell in love with Southwest art and artifacts.

Shopkeepers became sources of information and knowledge, and he soaked up their stories.

He took a detour for a stretch along the iconic Route 66 and, even though he’s young, understood the importance of that roadway in American history.

Because of the government shutdown, he wasn’t able to go through the whole national park, but seeing the nearby Painted Desert was incredible, he said.

Purples, reds, browns and tans painted the landscape as far as the eye could see, and that sight of endless beauty and possibilities struck a chord with him, and the trip was worth every hour spent on the road.

He came back to Texas in time to see his son compete in the Cub Scouts’ Pinewood Derby, and had gifts for everyone. His favorite souvenirs were his Baja jacket and the matching ones he got for his boys.

As they stood in a circle, all happily wearing their jackets, I sensed a peace and calm in their father I hadn’t seen in a long time.

Maybe the petrified wood struck home with him – this was wood that over millions of years transformed into something different yet similar to its original state.

Perhaps that gradual transformation from the original into something different is what makes nature and people strong, long lasting and things of new beauty.

“Go west, young man” is what newspaper editor Horace Greeley said in the late 1800s. Over two hundred years later, that advice is still sound.

At least it was for a young man who needed a bit of an adventure and to see that the world, like the highways and experiences between where we are and where we want to go, are filled with possibilities.

 

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald. 

This weekend, I spent hours oiling the fronts of our wooden cabinets, sprucing up the inside doors and dusting the furniture, including all the nooks and crannies on the dressers.

No need for a pat on the back – the last time I did that type of deep cleaning was 2017.

Yes, two years ago.

I have a love/hate relationship with housework. I love how the house looks when I’m finished sweeping, mopping and straightening up.

I simply hate the process to get there, and I’ve rationalized my way out of almost every household chore.

Dust, in my mind, leaves a protective covering on the furniture. It protects furniture from sun damage, especially since I banished window drapes years ago. I told the boys it was because we all have allergies, but the reason was much more embarrassing.

One spring, I took down the drapes to wash them since they’d never been cleaned, and they were covered with dust.

I’m surprised the curtain rods didn’t break from the extra weight.

Then there’s vacuuming. The carpet looks great when I’m finished, but when I’m yanking and pulling that metal monster across the rugs, it’s a chore.

Plus I always vacuum up a Lego or piece of cardboard and I have to stop, empty out the canister and dig out the offending item. Later, I’ll notice that I forgot to vacuum behind the doors, and with a dog, the omission is obvious.

Sweeping and mopping are two thankless chores. As soon as I finish sweeping the floor, someone spills something. The grandkids love cereal, but quite a few Froot Loops get spilled on the way to the table.

Our dog is thrilled, but I not only have to sweep up whatever she missed but then I have to mop the floor because there’s dog slobber everywhere. I love to walk around barefoot, but I hate stepping in dog spit.

Over the Christmas break, we had our grandchildren here, and I kept a damp mop handy at all times. I mopped up Kool-Aid, orange juice, spilled milk and syrup every day.

There was one particularly stubborn sticky spot, and I had to get down on the floor to remove it.

That’s when I noticed the baseboards.

We’ve been in this house about six years, and I never thought about cleaning the baseboards. But apparently that’s where the dust starts to accumulate before inching its way to the top of the cabinets where the dust partners up with the grease in the air and becomes almost permanently attached to the tops of the doors and cabinets.

Climbing down from the ladder, I noticed the fingerprints and hand prints on the wall. I secretly congratulated my grandchildren for managing to get a dirty hand print on a wall that’s taller than they are.

They do better than I do because when I looked at the bathroom mirrors in the daylight, I noticed that the top third of all the mirrors had a layer of dust on them.

At 5 foot 2 inches, I can’t reach that high, and I’m too lazy to drag a step stool around the house just to clean a bathroom mirror nobody will notice is dusty unless they’re here on a bright, sunny day.

As strange as it seems, I don’t mind cleaning the bathrooms. Perhaps it’s because porcelain glistens and shines when it’s clean and the bathroom towels smell wonderful when they’re freshly laundered.

That makes it easy to overlook the commode that needs a target on the lid for the young grandsons.

But right now, the bathrooms and cabinet doors are gleaming, the floors are clean and the baseboards look like I just painted them. Sitting back with a glass of lemonade, I had to pat myself on the back for a job well done.

And then I saw the dog lick the kitchen floor.

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald. 

 

Ten years ago, I admitted I might need glasses to drive. I could see well enough during the day, but at night, the headlights from oncoming cars were blurry. I bellied up to the bar and visited the optometrist who prescribed driving lenses.

He assured me I didn’t need reading glasses.

Yet.

A few years later, I noticed the words were a little blurry on the pages of my paperback novels.

“Cheap publishing,” I’d say, holding the book closer.

Then one afternoon, I saw some inexpensive “cheater” glasses in the drugstore. I slipped on a pair of +1.25 lenses, and the world jumped into focus.

I loved those cheater glasses so much, I’d buy a pair every time I’d see some. I rationalized they were less than $5, so I could stock on a few and avoid shelling out major bucks for glasses.

But after a year or so, the +1.25 lenses were losing their ability to let me see the small print. So I moved up to the +1.75. Those worked, but I found I had to move up to the +2.00. And, you guessed it, a couple of years later, I was at +2.50.

And then, the nose pad broke off my driving glasses, and one side kept digging into my skin. Plus I noticed the headlights were getting blurry again, and I figured it was time to admit I was getting older and needed all-the-time glasses.

As I was going through the eye exam, I realized just how much my eyesight had deteriorated in the past decade. Gritting my teeth, I agreed to progressive lenses so I wouldn’t have to juggle reading glasses with driving glasses nor would I have to find big enough sunglasses to fit over the progressive lenses.

Walking out of the optometrist’s office, I had to admit age was not only creeping up on me but it was passing me by like I was standing still. My knees creak most of the time, I’m turning the television up louder than I used to and, gasp, I think there’s a brown spot starting on the back of my hand.

Whoever coined the term “golden years” wasn’t thinking about that valuable commodity in the ground. Granted the alternative to growing older isn’t great, but those of us entering these “golden” years are complaining about the same things were heard “old people” whining about when we were younger.

“The kids never call.”

No, they don’t. They text or Facetime their family members. If you’re not getting phone calls from your grown children, learn about texting and Instagram.

“I can’t figure out my cell phone.” Few people over the age of 50 can figure out all the bells and whistles on a cell phone.

If you’ve gotten this far in life without knowing how to copy and paste a text message, then chances are pretty good you can get by the next 10 years without knowing how to accomplish this feat. Just use your cell to play Angry Birds and text the pizza shop.

“The health-care industry is a heartless maze.” Yes, it is. It’s also overly complicated, totally without compassion or empathy and a working entity only because insurance companies make a profit.

I can either whine like so many others or accept getting older. Along the way, I’m making strides — I’m getting used to the progressive lenses. I’m learning how to tilt my head at just the right angle to read the fine print on my medical card and I found the sweet spot when I want to read the newspaper.

I’m still not sure where to put my feet when getting on an escalator or walking up the steps, but the optometrist reassured me I’d catch on sooner rather than later. After all, these are the “golden years,” and so I have to make hay while the sun shines.

Let’s just hope the sun stays out while I get used to these progressive lenses.

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald

I’m a list maker. From what to pick up at the grocery store to never-ending daily tasks, I make a list to stay organized.

I road map my way through life because, without some sort of direction or plan, I wander aimlessly from YouTube video to channel surfing to trying to match up orphaned socks.

For 2019, I decided to make a “try-it” road map. Once a month seems practical, and I’m including activities that are practically free because, well, I’m cheap.

Hopefully my list can inspire you to create your own list for the coming year. Make your checklist fun, make it realistic but, most of all, make the 2019 try-it list something you want to do.

Here goes:

January:  Get a library card and visit a location. The Fort Bend County Library system is one of the best in the state with convenient branches around most neighborhoods. Take advantage of their free e-books, books on CD or go old school with a real paper book. Best of all – a library card is free.

February:  Attend a theater production. The weather’s unpredictable, so indoors is a good bet. Cast Theatrical in Rosenberg is presenting “The Queen of Bingo” at the beginning of the month, and Inspiration Stage in Sugar Land is showing “Peter Pan” at the end of the month.

Plus many of our high schools will be presenting their spring shows, and your money benefits public education. Check the online school calendars for show times.

March:  Live it up. For families that can’t get away a whole week during spring break, spend one night at a hotel in Houston with an indoor pool, and the kids will be thrilled. If you’re young or empty nesters, book a hotel within walking distance to a jazz club. Groupon always has great deals.

April:  Jump in the car. A road trip through the Hill Country offers the opportunity to see Texas wildflowers at the peak of their glory. There are well-marked trails around the Cat Spring area, and that’s less than an hour from your front door. Pack a picnic lunch, and the afternoon’s practically free.

May: Chill out.  Stop at an outdoor café and relax. Order a glass of lemonade and a slice of pie and watch the people walk by as you relax underneath an umbrella for less than five bucks.

June, July and August:  Stop sweating. I’m grouping these months together because they’re brutally hot, so unless you’ve got access to a pool or are willing to ramp up the AC, find something inside.

For kids, check out the free programs at the Fort Bend County Libraries – which should be easy because you have your library card – or a museum. Gone are the days when museums were stuffy relics – they offer interactive activities for all ages and are well worth the price of admission.

September:  Road trip. Fall’s a great time to watch the leaves change color, so a day trip’s in order. Head over to the Hill Country and catch a few glimpses of scarlet and orange from some of the tallow trees. Most of the wineries have outdoor seating areas, so bring your own cheese and crackers to go with a glass of Texas wine.

October:  Polka time. October’s festival month. Admission is often free, so as long as you stay away from the kettle corn and turkey legs, you’ll have a great time browsing through the booths and sampling free treats.

November:  Family time. Visit a relative you haven’t seen in a while. Don’t go empty handed – stop at one of the local bakeries for some kolaches or cookies and surprise your elderly aunt or cousin with something yummy.

December:  Do the Jingle Bell tour. Go see the Christmas lights in any neighborhood or visit the holiday tree-lighting ceremonies from Sugar Land to Rosenberg to East Bernard and experience an evening of old-fashioned fun. You don’t need to spend a fortune to soak up the Christmas spirit.

So there you have it. A years’ worth of activities that won’t break the bank. Enjoy!

 

This article was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.