Twenty-five years ago, Thursday, Oct. 2, 1997 to be exact, this newspaper published my first column.

It began with “I’m somebody’s daughter, somebody’s sister, somebody’s mother.” Those descriptions haven’t changed.

Devoni Wardlow had the Thursday space, but she was moving on to a new chapter in her life. She encouraged me to apply for the job, and I submitted three columns. Managing editor Bob Haenel said I had the job.

The first few weeks were spent finding my groove. I wrote about my oldest son giving advice to his younger brother at his first dance – always act cool, keep asking girls to dance and have confidence.

For years, I wrote about the letters to Santa we published each December. I still remember the strangest advice a young girl gave to St. Nick – “Don’t drink the milk. I spit in it.”

The people I crossed paths with often made it into my column – Kit who worked in his family restaurant in West Virginia and mesmerized our sons with stories of the mountains. Rosie who has cut my hair for 30 years and would never use Aqua Net on my hair despite my writing she did.

Because I’m the biggest klutz around, I wrote about my missteps, embarrassing moments and cringe-worthy incidents. There was no shortage of those.

My youngest sons were in elementary school when I started, and my eldest was in junior high. Those boys provided me with more examples of failed motherhood than I could’ve possibly hoped for.

There were times when I didn’t think I had anything to say, and many of you would probably agree I should’ve taken a sabbatical that week. But I am proud to say I never missed occupying this space for the past quarter century.

I wouldn’t have that opportunity if it wasn’t for the owners and editors of Hartman Newspapers, and I thank you for sticking with me all these years. My husband and family faithfully read what I write and know when the computer keys are clacking, mom’s working.

I owe a huge debt of gratitude to former editor Bob Haenel. He pulled me out of the pit of despair more than once and believed in me when I didn’t. We all have heroes in our lives – Bob is mine.

I’m not well versed in politics, so I leave those column inches to those who are smarter than I am. My goal has always been to connect with other people, and humor is my favorite entry point.

But my favorite columns ae about the people in this community.

Because of them, I always have a feeling of sincere gratitude. The people who’ve overcome incredible obstacles keep me going. Whenever I want to give up, I think of how they didn’t stop.

Neither should I.

Their voices and stories play in my head all the time, and I’m thankful they allowed me to write about them. Trusting someone to tell your story correctly takes courage.

Mostly, I owe you, the reader, for taking time to read what I’ve written. Without you, there would be no reason to type out these words.

You’ve been with me as I did my best to take three boys from rambunctious toddlers to capable, grown men.

You’ve been with me as I navigated the waters of becoming a grandmother, teacher, and now retiree. The time has flown, but I’m so glad I had you as company along this fun and unpredictable ride called life.

I’m still somebody’s daughter, somebody’s sister and somebody’s mother. I’m also somebody’s wife, grandmother, aunt, cousin, friend, neighbor, and co-worker.

I wouldn’t have it any other way.

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald. 

There’s a new library being built out in Fulshear. I see the construction as I pass by the site, and I know it’s going to be quite grand.

I’ll miss our small little library where we know the librarians by name, they know our children, and the perfect book is never more than 25 feet away.

Libraries hold a special fascination for me. Not big, impressive buildings, but the cozy places, the one-room libraries. They’re slowly being replaced by bigger, sleeker and more modern libraries.

They have their appeal for sure, but my childhood memories of the library were created years ago. It’s what I picture when I think about the perfect place to curl up with a book.

The main library in my hometown was built in 1909, and I rode my bike there at least once a week, my yellow cardboard library card with the metal plate in the middle tucked in my pocket.

The only area I was allowed to visit was a small section on the first floor, but that didn’t matter. All the treasures I wanted were there.

When we moved to Louisiana, the Baker Public Library was a small, two-story building with the library on the first floor and meeting rooms on the second.

I felt important because I knew the Dewey Decimal System and how to look up books and magazine articles.

The librarian was an elderly lady, just like the stereotype one sees in movies. She had silver hair and reading glasses that hung around her neck, suspended by a silver chain.

I thought she lived at the library because, if given the choice, I’d probably choose the same.

In high school, I remember sitting at a library desk, an encyclopedia open in front of me, while I painstakingly copied down information for a book report.

All of us were careful to give the correct attribution because to not state where you got your information would result in a failing grade.

Two things I love about libraries are how they smell and sound. There’s a musty smell mixed with printer’s ink, glue that binds the books together, and the rich smell of the wooden shelves.

Today’s modern libraries have electronic books and metal shelves. They might be cheaper, but they don’t have the same feel of a bound book or the smell from the dozens of wooden shelves in the library.

Footsteps often echoed in the library because there wasn’t any carpet, just linoleum. I remember hearing the librarian’s thump, thump as she’d stamp books being checked out.

There was a card in the back of the books. She’d take out the card, stamp it and the card glued to the inside back cover of the book so you’d know the due date.

If the book came from the adult section – we all tried sneaking those in with our Hardy boys’ books – the librarian would pull it out, cluck her tongue and the book was returned to the adult part of the library.

Most times, she’d recommend books for us to read, based on what we were checking out. That’s how I discovered mystery writers like Phyllis Whitney and, as a teen, the master of all storytelling Stephen King.

Books that aren’t checked out for a while are often sold to help generate funds for the library. I’ve picked up quite a few gems over the years, and I always wonder how a particularly well-written book could go unnoticed for so long.

Then I smile, feeling like a pirate who discovered a long-lost treasure.

Whenever we go on vacation, I always find the town’s library and stop in. Most have a “Friends of the Library” sale, and I can usually pick up a paperback novel or magazine to read.

There’s no stopping progress, and I’ll be a frequent visitor when this new library is open for business. Until then, I’ll be content with the coziness of our neighborhood library.

If you haven’t visited yours lately, stop in. Browse the bookshelves, ask a librarian for a recommendation and see if there’s a book sale going on.

You never know what treasures you might find.

 

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald. 

In my hometown, schools were named after a saint or a city. Here in Texas, schools are named after people who’ve positively contributed to the educational system.

The history behind the names of some of the older schools in our area is a rich and diverse one. Some are named for those who enhanced the community outside a classroom.

One is named after Taylor Ray who was instrumental in establishing a school district in the late 1800s.

Manford Williams was determined to improve education when he saw the system needed assistance. He helped form the Lamar CISD and served for 26 years on the school board.

Campbell Elementary was the first school named after an educator, Bess Campbell. People still talk about the positive influence she had on their lives.

Cora Thomas was born and reared in Fort Bend County and taught for 38 years. Irma Dru Hutchison helped open Lamar Consolidated High School and taught for over 30 years.

I feel honored to have met some of the people who have schools named after them. Adolphus Elementary is named in honor of the late judge Jim Adolphus who was always a supporter of the educational system.

Culver Elementary is named after another judge, Thomas Culver, who supported the law, education and his family. I took a group of Cub Scouts to visit his classroom one afternoon, and he called out a friendly greeting to me and the Scouts from the bench.

Lindsay Elementary is named after the late Kathleen Lindsay. Although she wasn’t an educator, she was a pioneer in all aspects. She was one of only three women in her graduating class from the University of Texas’ law school in 1939.

She helped open Richmond State School and was instrumental in starting the Fort Bend County Library system, an idea of the Share-a-Book Club. They started with a bookmobile, and now there are 12 branches celebrating the system’s 75^th birthday.

In life, Mrs. Lindsay was the definition of grace and culture, and spending time with her was always a pleasure.

Such is the case with one of the newest elementary schools in Lamar CISD, Phelan Elementary.

Maxine Phelan is an educator who taught at Lamar CHS for many years. When I first came to this area, I was told she, Mike Cooper and Richard McDaniel were the epitome of excellence. Having met Mike and Maxine, those accolades are well deserved.

Maxine and I have become friends, and I know first-hand why her former students and colleagues respect and admire her.

The first few years of teaching were rough for me, but Maxine constantly told me to stay the course and showed me how to reach students in a positive way. That encouraging nature is evident in every aspect of her life, from school to church to family.

She is generous and kindhearted yet she knows when it’s time to get tough. Teachers not only have to teach the curriculum, but they’re often a coach, counselor or referee.

They’re supposed to have all the answers for parents, the community and their administrators.

That’s an almost impossible request because they’re dealing with human beings. Little ones who cry, laugh, act out and bring all their emotions with them to a safe place – a teacher’s classroom.

The positive impact teachers have on a student, a school and a community lasts a lifetime.

Just ask any student who was fortunate enough to have a seat in Ms. Phelan’s classroom.

To all the Knights at Phelan Elementary, know the original knight in shining armor is about 5 feet tall, has a razor-sharp mind and a generous heart.

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.