In a family with seven children, times when we were all together were often scarce.

But there was one meal that was sacred, one meal we did not miss no matter the reason.

Sunday dinner.

But first, there was Sunday Mass.

My dad “found religion” when I was in high school and our church habits changed.

Before he saw the light, we sat on the back row and Dad snored through most of the service.

After his religious weekend, all nine of us had to sit on the front row. This wouldn’t have been so bad except we were always late.

For a teenager, that march up the aisle was the walk of shame. Add to that humiliation was that my dad insisted on singing every single hymn as loud as he could.

Dad couldn’t carry a tune to save his soul.

So there we were, late, on the front row with dad belting out “Here I Am Lord” for the angels to hear, although they probably had no problem picking him out of the congregation.

Once home, we’d set the table while Mom made the salad dressing. The menu didn’t change much – roast, white rice, gravy, mashed potatoes, salad and corn. No problem – our Mom’s a fabulous cook.

We’d say grace and pass the food to the right – Dad’s rule – and talk about everything under the sun while we ate.

Sometimes we’d talk about what was going on at school or sports but the conversation usually turned to politics.

We all had different views on the world, especially when we got to be teenagers.

Dad believed every word out of Archie Bunker’s mouth was the gospel truth.

We thought Archie Bunker was an idiot.

Dad thought voted for Richard Nixon.

Nixon single handedly shattered my belief that the president was right up there next to the pope and The Beatles.

We’d all chime in with our opinion. Some, like our sister Diane, loved to argue for the sake of argument.

Neither she nor my dad ever took their often loud disagreements personally. To them, those debates were verbal and intellectual exercise.

Our dad ended the discussion with his trade-mark wrap-it-up opinion.

“It’s a communist plot,” he’d say.

We’d throw our hands up in exasperation and took care of the dishes and leftovers, each one seamlessly taking on a task, from washing pots and pans to sweeping the floor, until the kitchen was clean.

Those Sunday dinners taught me invaluable lessons.

Although we differed in our views, we still allowed the other person to state their opinion, and we respected their right to have that opinion.

My incredibly smart siblings made me look at thorny issues in a different light.

Sometimes I changed my mind. Sometimes I stuck with what I thought. But I’m so glad they made me look at life from a different angle.

Social media and the opportunity to rant from a keyboard instead of face to face has turned civilized debate into a blood sport.

And that’s a shame.

Making political or religious disagreements personal doesn’t allow our minds to see an issue through a different lens and causes rifts in the family.

It’s sad how many relationships are splintered because of this unwillingness to honor another person’s point of view.

Our political and religious views are one small sliver of the pie that makes up each and every one of us. In our determination to be right, we forget that our right-wing friend is also an incredible artist, writer or gardener.

We need to remember our differences don’t make us enemies.

They just make us different, a message learned over hurried Sunday mornings and passing around a platter of pot roast.

 

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald. 

My uncle Marshall died unexpectedly when he was 21 years old. I remember hearing my grandmother wailing in the bathroom that night.

For the rest of her life, she wore nothing but black or navy blue clothes, seldom smiled and we were forbidden from mentioning Marshall’s name in her presence.

This once vibrant woman turned into a bitter, angry person.

That’s what I thought bereavement looked like.

But Dana McBride completely changed my outlook about death and grieving in less than 10 minutes.

Many years ago, I heard about children at Austin Elementary collecting coins for Chandler’s Tree Farm. My first thought was they were planting trees at the school.

Their project was much bigger.

Chandler McBride was the younger brother of Chelsea McBride, a student at the school. Chandler was battling cancer at Texas Children’s Hospital.

The McBrides understood first-hand the hardships quarantined families faced as they spent weeks isolated on the ward.

Dana and Kevin decided to make those families’ lives a little brighter with the help of the children at Austin Elementary. On every holiday, Dana, Kevin and Chelsea bought gifts for all the families on the ward.

Mother’s Day, Father’s Day and Valentine’s Day were all celebrated with the families by the McBrides. At Christmas, Kevin dressed up like Santa and pulled Chandler in a little red wagon to deliver the gifts.

As much good as they put out into the universe, 2-year-old Chandler quietly died in Dana’s arms.

There are few parents who could recover from such a heartbreaking tragedy.

But the McBrides chose a different path.

Instead of shutting their hearts, Dana, Kevin and Chelsea remembered the exhausted parents on the cancer ward.

Every Christmas for 18 years, Kevin dressed up as Santa and Dana and Chelsea delivered gifts from the back of Chandler’s little red wagon.

This family that brought such joy to so many was dealt an unbelievably cruel blow last week.

Chelsea was tragically killed in an automobile accident.

When I read Dana’s post about Chelsea receiving her heavenly wings, I had to read the post three times for it to sink in.

Surely God could not be so cruel as to take both of the McBride’s children.

Not the bright and happy Chelsea who volunteered at the local cancer center and worked with children. Not this family again.

I drove to the funeral reception in Lufkin with a heavy heart, crying, yelling at God, wondering how Dana and Kevin could survive this gut-wrenching tragedy.

When I saw Dana, she jumped up and hugged me. I told her how sorry I was and she said she was too, but they’d had Chelsea living with them and she was so grateful for that time with her daughter.

And then she changed my life.

With a serene smile on her face, Dana told me how she’s coping. We all have a purpose in life, she said. They were parents to Chandler and Chelsea and now God needed her and Kevin for something else.

“Chandler and Chelsea will be waiting for us when it’s our time,” she said. “Until then, we need to do what we can to fulfill our purpose here on earth.”

I came to Chelsea’s reception with an angry heart.

I left with forgiveness in my heart.

I took Dana’s words as a life challenge.

Live with a purpose, even on the days when you think you can’t get out of bed for the overwhelming sadness.

Live with forgiveness, even on those days when anger is the only emotion you feel.

Live with hope, even during the nights when overwhelming memories threaten to drown you.

There’s a reason and a purpose for your being here.

Never stop searching for your purpose here on earth and continue to pray for comfort, strength and peace for Dana and Kevin.

 

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald

One year ago, we were slowly waking up to a new vocabulary and reality –face masks, social distancing and pandemic.

We’re still separated into the anti-maskers and the pro-maskers, those who will never take the vaccine and others driving an hour to an appointment where they can receive the vaccine.

Schools, however, have Spring Break on the calendar and no matter where you stand on the coronavirus debate, the kids will be school-free for an entire week.

Many are tired of staying home and looking at the same four walls. Others aren’t ready to venture out too far, so here’s some ideas to appeal to some and perhaps spark some interest in others.

Fun can be found within 50 miles of Fort Bend County, and most of these activities are right in our own backyards.

In no particular order, here’s some recommendations for Spring Break 2021:

 “The Berg:” Businesses have worked to make Rosenberg an up-to-date tourist destination.

The downtown neighborhood is filled with beautiful murals and quaint shops where the prices are right and choices plentiful.

Bargain and antique hunters are sure to find something in their price range.

Chain restaurants are reliable, but for a true adventure, take in one of Rosenberg’s home-grown eateries and listen for the train whistles. Save money, stay away from crowds and delight your taste buds.

Parks, like Seabourne Creek and the gorgeous Brazos Bend, offer adventures for bird watchers, families wishing to fly a kite, barbecue some hot dogs or kick around a soccer ball.

Eagle Lake:  If you want to stay away from crowds, consider a trip to Sealy and back home through Eagle Lake.

The easy drive north on Highway 36 to Sealy offers a first look at emerging wildflowers.

Stop at the railroad park in Sealy a few blocks away from the town’s square. Stretch your legs, stroll the square and head back home through Eagle Lake.

This tiny but beautiful city has lots to offer. There’s a museum and thrift store open during limited hours, and the Railroad Depot museum will be open the first weekend of Spring Break. History buffs will find the Masonic cemetery, established in 1872, a treasure trove of Texas’ past.

The big draw in Eagle Lake is the Attwater Prairie Chicken National Wildlife Refuge, home to this endangered species. If you love seeing a coastal prairie, the refuge is a beautiful spot.

Chances of seeing a chicken are slim, but chances of seeing some wildflowers are pretty good.

The visitor’s center is closed, but the restrooms are open. Best of all, the 20-minute driving tour is free. The center is open from sunrise to sunset. Driving time to Fort Bend County from Eagle Lake is 30 minutes.

Surfside:  There’s a free public beach but some spots require you to pay to park. Whatever you do, don’t park on the sand as you’ll get stuck.

Remember, since it is Spring Break, chances are this usually quiet spot will be filled with beach lovers aching to get away from memories of the recent arctic freeze. Driving time is an hour and a half.

Bellville:  There’s a nice town square here and a few barbecue places, but the biggest draw of all is Newman’s Castle. Step back in time in a real castle complete with a moat. Reservations are required, and admission is a little steep – $20 per person – but if it’s adventure you’re looking for, this is the place.

Finish off your medieval day with a treat from Newman’s Castle Bakery. The inside is nothing fancy but that doesn’t matter when munching on fresh kolaches and doughnuts. Newman’s has tables set up outside for those still cautious about inside dining. Driving time is one hour.

All of the cities in Fort Bend County have some historic or beautiful draw for all ages and interests, from the courthouse and beautiful gardens in the heart of Richmond, the boutique shopping and big-city feel of Sugar Land and the free playgrounds, restaurants and parks in our smaller cities.

Spring Break fun, even in a winding-down pandemic, can be found in your own back yard.

 

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald. 

It’s a dreary day and I’m going to tackle a dreaded chore I’ve been putting off for about 10 years – cleaning out the closet.

This isn’t first on my gotta-do list. I could sit down in front of the television with a bowl of popcorn and binge watch “America’s Worst Cooks.”

Or I could find mates to all the orphaned socks, clean out the junk drawer or vacuum under the couch.

But it’s time to roll up my sleeves and organize my closet, the one area where I find myself totally overwhelmed.

When we moved in, I promised myself I’d maintain my closet. All the pants went on the bottom rod and shirts and skirts went on the top.

I folded all the T-shirts and put those on a shelf. I lined up my shoes on a shelf instead of throwing them in a corner. Hangers were finally used.

That was years ago, and there’s only so much room in a closet. I faced the facts – some things needed to go.

T-shirts seem to be the most out of control, so I decided to start there.

I only own two long-sleeved T-shirts so both of those should stay. Same goes for the Christmas T-shirt – it’s the only holiday shirt I own.

There’s a couple of sentimental shirts from family reunions and from my teaching days. In the words of superstar organizer Marie Kondo, they “bring me joy” and get to stay.

At the bottom of the stack are two paint-splattered T-shirts. I use those for messy projects, so they have to stay as well.

Seems like I’m keeping all the T-shirts.

Time to move on to the dressy shirts.

Some have tags from stores that have gone out of business. Some are sleeveless, even though I won’t wear sleeveless shirts, and some are itchy or the collar’s too high.

However, I paid full price for them, so I’ll keep those as a reminder that full price doesn’t always mean full comfort. Also, for full price, I need to learn to like turtle necks.

On to the pants.

These seem to fall into three categories:  too small, barely fit or if I suck in my stomach and hold my breath, they’ll fit.

There’s a pair of jeans in the back part of the closet I wore before I had my first child.

They’re 40 years old, but one day, I’ll fit into those jeans.

One day, bell bottoms will come back in fashion.

One day hasn’t come yet, so I’ll hold on to those a little bit longer.

I’m not a fan of long sleeves but after this past winter where the temperature was 50 degrees in my house, I’m holding on to everything that’s warm.

Dresses are next. Now that I’m retired, I consider tossing all of the dresses on the donate pile, but there are some dress-up occasions I have to attend so I’ll keep all of them.

Dresses remind me I need high-heels. This one black pair isn’t the most comfortable but they make me feel tall, so I’m keeping them.

Another pair are like fun tap shoes, so they’re definitely staying.

These black flats were a terrific bargain, and I’ll keep those as a trophy to smart shopping.

I stand back with satisfaction – all the T-shirts are neatly folded on a shelf, pants are on hangers and the dresses are all facing the same direction.

The donate pile doesn’t have one thing in it, but that’s okay. When I lose weight, I’ll have a bunch of too-big clothes to donate.

That’s going to happen about the same time aliens land in my back yard and take me to their leader.

At least I can tap dance my way onto the ship.

 

This column was originally published in the Fort Bend Herald.