On a dreary Saturday morning, we were channel surfing and came across a familiar face from years ago – Steve Irwin. Smiles broke out and we settled in to revisit Steve and his adventures.

Those of us over the age of 25 remember Australia’s favorite celebrity, the Crocodile Hunter. With his boundless energy and over-the-top enthusiasm toward crocodiles, snakes and reptiles, Irwin was a huge favorite, not only in our house but around the world.

More than just seeing if Steve was going to get bitten by a crocodile or a snake, Steve was constantly talking.

He introduced dozens of Australian terms to American audiences, including the famous “by Crikey” and his love of his home was evident in every show.

Our boys loved watching him lay down on the backs of crocodiles, jump into the water with 12-foot-long crocs and wave venomous snakes around like they were jump ropes.

His constant talking was more than nervous energy – he was educating the audience about the beauty, power and fragility of wildlife on this planet.

His partner was his wife, Terri. I remember watching the show when Irwin introduced her to the crocodile enclosure. He told her to go ahead and jump on the back of a crocodile to calm it down.

“I don’t think so, Steve,” she said as she backed away. But those two quickly became a conservation team, and their adventures throughout Australia were riveting.

When Steve was stung by a stingray in 2006 and died, the entire world mourned. No one could believe that someone who’d faced as many dangers as Steve had could’ve died in the first recorded death by a stingray.

Even though the whole world grieved with the Irwins, his family lost a beloved husband, a doting, hands-on father to then 8-year-old Bindi and 3-year-old Robert and their primary business partner in running the Australia Zoo started by Steve’s father.

Those children could’ve cratered or been completely destroyed. They had two major blows – they were in the public spotlight and they’d suffered a tremendous loss.

It’s unusual to come across children from any walk of life who have their life together after experiencing the sudden loss of a parent, much less the children of one of the world’s most beloved personalities.

Nobody would’ve blamed the Irwin children if they’d lashed out at the world, left Australia behind or hid in drugs or alcohol.

The world would’ve understood if they’d been spoiled brats. After all, they lost one of the most dynamic people the world’s ever seen, but to them, they lost the center of their universe.

Instead, their mother found the strength to continue Steve’s work of conservation and education. The children grew up around animals, just like their father, and embraced the message he believed in.

Today 16-year-old Robert and 21-year-old Bindi are conservation ambassadors who travel around the world, spreading their father’s conviction in protecting wildlife.

Lest we forget Steve, “Animal Planet” has compiled hours of footage from Steve’s earlier shows and added thoughts and remembrances from Terri and one of Steve’s best friends.

This new series gives viewers some insight into what was going on behind the camera. The footage and the commentary from those who knew and loved Steve remind the world that “the Crocodile Hunter” wasn’t just a showman or a daredevil.

Steve lived what he preached – get in there with the world, grab on with both hands and make sure passion is the main ingredient in everything you do. Long after his death, that’s a legacy worth embracing and passing on.

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald. 

 

Today is Valentine’s Day, a holiday where we celebrate the ones we love with chocolate, flowers, cards and sweet sentiments.

Financially, those tributes benefit Hallmark, Hershey’s and FTD, but traditions are traditions. If we can get past the protestations of those who think these types of holidays are nothing more than a marketing plan to take our money, then let’s take a look at holidays and why they’re worth more than retailers would have us believe.

New Year’s Day is more than champagne and horn blowers. It’s a day of renewal, a day to make changes and promises. Of course we don’t keep them, but that’s where Mardi Gras shines.

For those not born in Louisiana, Mardi Gras is the day before Lent begins. The Cajun holiday is more than catching beads, digging through a king cake for the plastic baby and going to parades.

It’s the day where we admit what foods we’ve been cheating with since our New Year’s resolutions fell through the cracks. Mardi Gras is a day to make good on a new set of self-imposed rules and regulations for the 40 days of Lent.

Instead of giving up cake, those 40 days are a great opportunity to give up the things that cause us the most harm – toxic relationships and not taking care of ourselves.

Just about the time our willpower is close to empty after walking past the Cadbury chocolate eggs and giant chocolate bunnies, Easter arrives. For Christians, it’s a day to celebrate Christ rising from the dead and the start of a new year.

It’s also a great time to let loose the inner child in us. No matter how old you are, dyeing Easter eggs is fun. Even though we don’t have young children, I still drag out a Paas kit, vinegar and coffee mugs and dye all the eggs in the fridge.

Likewise with Halloween. I still love seeing little ones dressed up as princesses and pirates. Best of all, Halloween is my son and niece’s birthday, so instead of griping about how much all those bags of candy cost, I’m thrilled two of my favorite people came into the world on Oct. 31.

Mother’s Day and Father’s Day are big-ticket items. Sure there’s the oversized $5.50 Hallmark cards that play music, but nothing beats a hand-made construction-paper card from the kids.

Parents deserve more than a new frying pan or oversized coffee mug. These are the women and men who changed diapers, cleaned up spit, worried about us every day of our lives and do the thousand little things that make life easier.

For those whose parents have passed away, the day is bittersweet, but it’s still an opportunity to think about how mom and dad shaped us into the people we are today.

Father’s Day is when I think about all the good qualities my dad had. It’s also a day to celebrate what a good father and grandfather my husband is and what a good dad my youngest son is.

Thanksgiving is about family and, let’s be honest, cornbread dressing and pecan pie. Christmas is a holy day, and yes it’s commercialized, but at midnight, when the children are dreaming about Santa, it’s the parents who understand the true meaning of Christmas – giving without expecting thanks.

So instead of whining about the money I have to spend for holidays, I try to concentrate on the intangibles they make me think about – the impact the people, holidays and traditions have on our lives.

Which brings us back to Valentine’s Day.

Cards and sentiments say we should praise the ones we love. That includes everyone – a significant other, aunts, uncles, cousins, neighbors, parents, friends and those who stepped in as family when we needed them.

People – that’s what all these holidays are really all about. So go ahead, get that cheesy box of Valentine’s Day candy tomorrow when they’re on sale and share it with your loved ones.

And try not to take a bite out of every square to make sure you didn’t get the orange cream chocolate.

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.

My freshman year at Baker High School was uneventful. The year was 1969 and most of us were in love with The Beatles, pet rocks and bell-bottom jeans.

Our parents weren’t rich, and few of us lived in fancy houses. Most of my classmates had grown up together and we seemed like one big family.

High school life was pretty good, I thought, but all that changed my sophomore year when our high school underwent forced integration.

Black students from a neighboring town had to come to our high school and some of our friends had to go to a different school.

Both black and white parents were outraged. There were protesters outside of the school those first few weeks with screaming angry parents marching back and forth.

Inside the school, things weren’t much better. I distinctly remember seeing our assistant principal walking down the hall carrying chains and brass knuckles he’d taken away from students.

It wasn’t unusual for girls to walk down the hall three and four abreast and knock down anybody in their way.

Tempers flared, fist fights happened every hour, and there was chaos. Our first pep rally, the students from Scotlandville sat together and the kids from Baker sat together.

They sang their school fight song and we screamed ours. Fights broke out, and that was the last of the pep rallies for the year.

I was scared a good bit of the time as well as angry about why politicians and prejudiced parents had to ruin life for us.

Then I got to know some of the kids from Scotlandville, and I found out a few things. They were proud of their school, proud of their school’s achievements and as angry as we were.

As the weeks rolled by, we realized a few uncomfortable truths. The teens from Scotlandville didn’t have the same level of textbooks that we had. Not that ours were great, but at least ours had all the pages and were printed in the last 20 years.

They didn’t have the same school supplies we had in the classrooms nor did they have the same level of musical instruments or football equipment. The classrooms at their old school were in sad shape, and that was unbelievable as ours weren’t that great.

By the time we were seniors, many of us had become friends. Some parents came around, but generations of hate are difficult to erase in one generation and almost impossible to forget.

Which brings us to the uproar over Virginia Gov. Ralph Northam’s black-face picture in a 1984 medical school yearbook page.

What he did is unconscionable. Not because he did it – there’s not a one of us who doesn’t regret something we said or did back when we were young. Who poses next to someone in a Ku Klux robe and thinks that’s funny?

What’s almost impossible to forgive is that Northam didn’t come forward and own his past transgressions. It’s not like he was a teenager whose hormones and immaturity ran ahead of common sense. This man was in medical school in the mid-1980s.

Surely his memory isn’t that shallow.

Still the question looms:  how far back do we go to punish someone? A picture from elementary school? High school? College? Do we examine that person’s life to see if they’ve outgrown those prejudices or do we immediately call for blood?

I admit freely that there were things I said and did in my youth I truly regret. There will probably be words I’ll utter today or next year I’ll wish I hadn’t said. I pray that anyone I’ve hurt will accept my apologies and forgive me, but I’m not sure that’s possible these days.

We are quick to judge and condemn but we should be slower to judge and faster to understand and learn.

We must never stop working to right wrongs, even if they happened five, 10, 20, 30 or 40 years ago. We must be willing to look inside and admit to prejudices and find ways to educate ourselves.

The words of Abraham Lincoln still ring true: “In times like the present, men should utter nothing for which they would not willingly be responsible through time and eternity.”

This article was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald. 

“Ain’t nobody got time for that” is part of American slang, thanks to Kimberly “Sweet Brown” Wilkins.

In 2012, she was being interviewed after escaping from an apartment fire. Her interview was bizarre, especially when describing her escape and her sum-it-up statement:  “ain’t nobody got time for that.”

The phrase caught fire and went viral on social media. I thought about Wilkins’ phrase when I was sitting in bumper-to-bumper traffic with ice cream in the back seat of the car slowly but surely melting.

There’s a lot of things and situations we “ain’t got time for.”

Traffic. Ain’t nobody got time to sit in stopped traffic for no good reason.

If there’s a wreck, it’s logical that traffic would move slowly. I understand a slow down if there’s construction or debris in the roadway.

But to be sitting there because drivers aren’t paying attention to the traffic signals, people are texting on their phones and missing the green light or people can’t manage a left-hand turn, then my patience evaporates.

Waiting in line. Ain’t nobody got time to stand in an endless line in the grocery store, the post office or the return line. If I’m in the grocery store after work, I understand I’ll have to stand in a line.

But to wait in line for 30 minutes – which happened to me last week – with others who were picking up groceries at the end of the work day made me see red.

Grocers, people are tired when they hit your store at 5 p.m., and the last thing they want to do is stand in line for an extra 30 minutes because you’re unwilling to open additional grocery lanes to accommodate the flood of after-work shoppers.

So please think about getting customers out of the store in a timely manner when they’re already frazzled, tired and beat.

Likewise for the post office. I understand people have questions when they’re mailing a package or want to insure a box. But ain’t nobody got time for you to ask about a dozen different mailing methods to save 50 cents.

You’re going to send that letter first class or you’re not. You’re going to insure that package to your aunt or you’re not. And unless you’re a lawyer or a bill collector, you’re not going to use certified mail.

And, please, if you don’t know how to use the self-serve kiosk and there’s a lot of people in the post office lobby, go to the clerk. Ain’t nobody got time for you to stand there and try and figure out the self-service features.

The drive-through. Ain’t nobody got time for you to be indecisive in the McDonald’s drive-through line. Either you want a cheeseburger or you want a Big Mac. Fries are a definite yes but pass on the apple pie.

Ain’t nobody got time to wait for you to decide between a caramel macchiato or an iced caramel cappuccino to go with your burger without onions and extra pickles. Order a Diet Coke and get out of the line.

Another thing we ain’t got time for is punching in 10 numbers in a phone queue when we call a business or the doctor’s office. First, the caller has to decide whether or not it’s English or Spanish and then there’s at least five options for the office you want to speak to.

One for billing, two for consultations, three to talk to the nurse, four to talk to the physician’s assistant, five for directions… you get the drift. Pressing zero repeatedly only gets a “sorry, I didn’t get that, please listen to all the options again” recording.

When you’re not feeling good, ain’t nobody got time to sit in phone purgatory.

So there you have it. My rant is over because, frankly, ain’t nobody got time to listen to me complain.

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.