Recently Lamar CISD announced the names of four new schools, and they and those who nominated chose quite well.

The four new campuses are Clifton Terrell Jr. Elementary, Maxine Phelan Elementary, Harry Wright Junior High and Dr. Thomas Randle High School.

I count myself fortunate to know, or have known, all four.

Cliff Terrell was a true friend to education. I met him through this newspaper, and spent a wonderful car ride with Cliff to Wharton County Junior College one afternoon.

We talked about the future, education, children and life in general, and his outlook was optimistic and eager.

He was someone who handled a dozen different obligations with ease and grace and helped everyone from WCJC to the Boy Scouts to people in general.

Cliff passed away a few years ago, but he left a huge legacy and a definite chart to follow if one wants to make their community a better place – do what you say you’re going to do and do so with humility.

Before I met her in person, Maxine’s stellar reputation as the matriarch of the English department at Lamar CHS preceded her.

Tough and fair, knowledgeable yet always willing to learn, is what I was told. She cared deeply for her students and pushed them to go beyond what they thought they were capable of learning.

She came to the newspaper office one afternoon, and Clyde King said there was someone who wanted to meet me.

A petite woman introduced herself as Maxine Phelan. She had no idea I was the one who was awed to meet her.

I stumbled over my words, but that brilliant smile quickly put me at ease. Since that meeting, I’ve talked with Maxine and her husband, Herb, many times, and we’ve become friends.

When I was frustrated with a college grammar class, Maxine patted me on the hand and told me something I’ve never forgotten.

“New fads come and go,” she said. “Stick to the basics and you’ll be fine.”

I think she’s given hundreds of teenagers that same comforting advice over the years as well as knowledge, encouragement and a smile that lights up a room.

Harry Wright is a legend in town. He was the first principal at Terry High School and he united everyone when the school opened. I’ve seen him at sporting events and he’s a definite crowd favorite.

He is the epitome of an educator who believes in giving youngsters a chance and challenging them to do their best. I don’t think he’ll ever make it through the grocery store without at least one person thanking him for being a fantastic person and educator.

Dr. Thomas Randle has been the superintendent of the school district since 2001, and I’ll admit to being a bit in awe of him. However, when I first met him, Dr. Randle instantly put me at ease and remembers my name whenever I see him.

He visits all the campuses in the district, often taking a quick walk through the halls, talking to students along the way.

He’s legendary for the costumes he wears at the annual back-to-school convocations – race car driver, astronaut and farmer, to name a few – and he delights children every year as the Easter Bunny. There aren’t many superintendents who’d go that far to put a smile on a child’s face. He’s always challenging his teachers to get to the top of Mount Everest, in other words, never stop until you reach the top.

What these four individuals have in common is a passion about education, whether it’s in the classroom, the board room, the principal’s office or the superintendent’s office.

This community should be proud for honoring those who’ve spent their lives as down-to-earth, bona-fide teachers and educators.

Bravo Lamar CISD.

         This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald. 

 

 

Like thousands around the world, I watched in sorrow as the 850-year-old Notre Dame Cathedral was engulfed in flames. The church is an icon for Catholics around the world, and especially the French.

Fire has caused some sorrow in my family, and watching helplessly as those flames in France seemed to gut the cathedral brought back memories.

Many years ago, I was visiting my grandparents. My grandfather sat by a big picture window in their library because he could see all the way down the hill by their house.

One evening, the house across the corner was on fire. He sat there calmly, watching the flames dance across the night sky.

“That’s some fire,” I said to him.

“Yes, I don’t think they can save it,” he said.

My aunt burst into the room, crying.

“Dad, your house is on fire,” she said between gulps of air.

“I know,” he said and continued looking out the window.

“You own that house?” I asked him. He told me he did. I asked how he could remain so calm.

“What’re you going to do,” he replied. “It is what it is.”

I’ve never forgotten how quiet my grandfather was as something he owned was destroyed right before his eyes.

He taught me an invaluable lesson – remain calm in an emergency and understand and accept when things are out of your control.

The second fire happened at a cabin we have in the woods. My husband was spending the night out there, and I got a call in the morning.

“There was a fire here,” he said. “But I’m okay.”

Fire fighters were quick to respond, but one section of the cabin was destroyed.              We finally figured out that flames had seeped out between the back of the fireplace and the wall.

We had no idea the structure had shifted to allow that to happen, and it was a good thing my husband saw what was happening and could call the firefighters out.

It took months to repair the damage at our cabin, but I was so grateful and thankful that my husband wasn’t injured in the blaze.

Our last run in with fire happened last summer. My husband called and quietly explained that our son’s 50-year-old house had burned to the ground.

Nobody was living there at the time, and the house had burned so fiercely and quickly, there wasn’t enough left to rebuild, much less run an investigation.

All I could do was cry.

After I calmed down, my husband convinced me that our son could have a fresh start with a new house.

A fire takes everything in its path – furniture, clothing, pictures, a feeling of safety, but you pick yourself up and go forward.

My grandfather was able to save most of the house and rent it out again. We rebuilt our cabin, and our son has started rebuilding his home. France has vowed to rebuild Notre Dame, and donations started pouring in from every nation on earth even before the flames were extinguished.

The morning after the fire at Notre Dame, a gold cross remained standing and seemingly untouched by the intense heat and flames.

People are saying the cross is a symbol of hope and, watching the light illuminate that simple cross, I believe they’re right.

Amidst the ashes, that simple gold cross is a sign that even though fire can destroy structures, the really important parts of life, the intangibles like faith and hope, cannot be destroyed.

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald. 

The bride was radiant and the groom smiled nervously. Friends and family were gathered at the Cotton Gin 116 event building in Brookshire to witness Margaret and David exchange wedding vows and begin a new life together.

The wedding was definitely a Lone Star event – both the bride and groom wore cowboy boots, and all the groomsmen wore Texas cowboy hats and vests. Guests were encouraged to dress casually in their favorite western duds, and yellow roses on all the tables reflected the theme.

As the bride walked in, she did so a little slowly as she’d broken some bones in her foot. Margaret’s foot was the last thing on her mind that evening.

She only had eyes for David and David only had eyes for her. Even though I was sitting a few rows back from where they exchanged vows, the unwavering looks that passed between them was electrifying.

They celebrated a wedding tradition I’d never seen before – both had written letters to each other, and they put the sealed letters in a wooden box to be opened on their first wedding anniversary.

They’d written how they felt about the other in the days before making their union official, and the minister told them the letters would be a great reminder of why they’d gotten married.

Their reception was spectacular. This was the first wedding reception at the newly renovated cotton gin, and the polished wooden floors were so shiny, I could see my reflection. The grounds were meticulously maintained, and the food was good and plentiful.

But the most wonderful part about the wedding was the love Margaret and David showed to each other. Even though the hall was filled with people, those two kept each other in their sight almost all the time.

I thought about all the times I’ve seen marriages go badly. Two people fall in love and make promises. Times get tough, and many bail, thinking someone new won’t cause them any trouble.

They’re mistaken.

Marriage has its share of unhappiness, but it’s worth toughing out the rough years if both people are truthful to each other and work to honor their commitment.

There’s another person who’s promised to stay through watching you sit on the side of the bed in your ratty pajamas while you cut your toenails.

They stick with you when there’s not enough money to pay the car note, you unexpectedly lose your job or you need a root canal and there’s no dental insurance.

The internet displays a world of beautiful people doing beautiful things while bragging about their beautiful lives.

It’s all an illusion, and reality faces a tough competition with fantasy.

We all get crow’s feet around our eyes, a little paunch from indulging in late-night chocolate ice cream and, sooner or later, the hair goes gray and bifocals are a necessity.

For those who stick it out, they understand between the wedding vows and the retirement home there are glorious moments.

Sometimes they don’t seem as numerous as the bad ones, but knowing someone else is there and won’t desert you is worth the world.

Looking at Margaret and David, I believe they’ve found someone worth holding on to. For their honeymoon, they’re taking Route 66 to see what’s on the path far from the interstate.

I have no doubt these two know what they’re doing and that the car trip will be filled with conversation, laughter and love.

And, oh, did I mention – Margaret and David are both in their late 60s. But from the look in their eyes, they’re teenagers at heart.

Best of luck you two lovebirds. Thanks for reminding me it’s never too late to believe in love.

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald. 

After an early morning and a full day, I went to photograph a soccer match.

I picked up a camera I seldom use because I wanted to see how well it would perform with fast action on a sunny day.

Pointing the camera toward the stands, I pressed the button, heard a click and checked the playback.

Black screen.

Pointed the camera at the field and pressed the shutter button a couple more times.

Still nothing in the camera’s playback screen.

I showed the camera to the teenager taking pictures next to me and asked if he knew what could be wrong.

“Well the camera takes better pictures if you take the lens cap off,” he said, reaching over and gently taking the lens cap off the end of the camera’s lens.

I haven’t done anything that stupid in years.

Wait a minute.

I did something equally stupid just two days earlier.

Most people do stupid things, I told myself. But most of us don’t say anything because we don’t want others to think we’re dumb.

But if my columns over the past 20 years have revealed anything about me, it’s that I do dumb and stupid things on a regular basis.

So I decided to share my stupidity for seven days on my very public Facebook account.

The first entry of seven was about leaving my wallet at home. I didn’t realize I’d left it until the grandchildren and I were at the check-out counter. We had to leave what we’d picked out, and I felt like I’d let the grandkids down.

They were quite understanding, even more so when I promised to get them double what we’d picked out because we had to come back.

The second entry was owning up to wearing mis-matched shoes to work.

When I find a pair of shoes that are comfortable, I’ll often an extra pair in a different color. I’ve grown weary of returning shoes or having a blister at the end of the day, so when I find a good shoe, I stick with it.

Until I’m getting dressed in the dark and, hours later, realize that I’m wearing one blue shoe and one brown shoe.

The third entry was owning up to wearing mismatched earrings or only putting mascara and eyeshadow on one eye, not two.

The fourth was about leaving the water running in the sink while I got distracted. It’s a good thing there’s a built-in overflow feature in the kitchen. Apologies to you, hubby, because the water bill might be a bit higher this month.

Fifth would be about the number of times I’m cooking something on the stove, forget about what’s on there and return to burnt pancakes or ebony-black French toast.

On the sixth day, I owned up to leaving things on the kitchen counter and walking out the door without them – my keys, my lunch, my water bottle. Or leaving for the day with the back door open. Or all the lights on. Or… well, you get it.

On the last day, I owned up about leaving the lens on the camera. What I didn’t expect was the number of people who commented that they’d done the same stupid things I’d done, and they shared smiley faces with their confessions.

We were all in the stupid ship together it seemed, and we weren’t embarrassed or ashamed to admit we were human.

And that’s how I ended the post on the seventh day.

We all make mistakes. We all do things wrong and we all do things right. We beat ourselves up when we do dumb things and we forget to congratulate ourselves for getting through the day.

Give yourself a break and remember – you are an incredible person. You’ll sometimes leave the house without your wallet, your lunch or your homework.

Just don’t forget — there’s one thing you’ll always have with you – a sense of humor.

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.