Painting isn’t exactly a talent of mine. When I was a teenager, I was painting the border around the top of my room.

I was stupidly standing on a folding chair, and the chair buckled out from underneath me. I spilled bright blue paint all over the carpet and the wall.

Since then, I’ve successfully painted a few bedrooms and our mail box, but I never attempted to paint a picture. Until my daughter-in-law Alle booked a birthday painting party for Ingrid, our eldest son’s wife.

One daughter-in-law couldn’t make it, so there were only four of us there – Alle, Ingrid, me and another girl, Lily. Her boyfriend didn’t want to come so she came alone.

We immediately asked her to join us. We had plenty of snacks and wine, but she declined. She did, however, join our conversation throughout the night.

The instructor, Professor Moonshine – I’m not making that up – had a painting we could use as a reference. He said he’d lead us through creating the painting step by step, but we were free to experiment.

The first part was easy – a blue-and-white background.  I painted blue and then white, and my canvas resembled the one on the easel.

He said we could add some extra colors to the background, so I got a little bold and added some purple to my blue and white. It looked okay.

Then it was time to add green leaves.

Mine were awful. They were too wide with no definition, but the professor said I could cover them up during the next step, adding small flowers.

This advice was familiar – I know how to cover my rear end and double chin – long tunics and scarves. Those leaves would soon be history.

I couldn’t get the hang of the five-stemmed flowers. Moonshine showed me and I still couldn’t do it. I settled for flowers that had a Monet quality – a little out of focus.

There was supposed to be a big peony on the right-hand side. I tried but I couldn’t get it right.

I looked at my daughters-in-law’s paintings. They painted their big flower perfectly. Their shading was spot on. Mine looked like a giant blob of pink on one side of the canvas.

I didn’t think it was possible to camouflage the leaves and this big flower. I settled for swirling some white over the pink. Okay, a lot of white.

Then we were supposed to add tall, thin flower stems. These I knew how to do – dab, dab, dab. I walked over and looked at Lily’s. She’d added orange to her painting, a color not on the tray Moonshine prepared for us.

She said I could borrow her idea. I added some light orange dabs and a little white to the purple – I could not resist that purple puddle on the plate – and the picture started to take shape.

Finally it was time to add a few final touches. By this time, I was feeling a little adventurous. I put a yellow dot first and then small black dots on the centers of the flowers, just like I’d seen in my yard.

Was my picture perfect?

Not by a long shot.

Did I have a blast?

Absolutely.

Mostly it was the joyous company of my daughters-in-law. There was also a freedom after I let go, freedom that comes from creating something you never dreamed you had inside you.

I texted a picture of the painting to my brother, Jeff, an extremely talented artist and writer. I pointed out most of my mistakes. His reply was what I needed to hear:  “Chasing joy leads to much better results than tracking errors.”

He’s absolutely right.

Every time I look at my first painting, I’ll remember what a fun idea Alle had to honor Ingrid and realize, our pictures, just like the evening, were perfect.

 

This article was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald. 

Our 8-year-old grandson loves checking the mail. Doesn’t matter if it’s Sunday or a holiday – he’ll ride his skateboard down to the street and check the box every time he’s here.

I remember when getting the mail was a big deal, especially around our birthdays.

Our grandparents sent birthday cards, usually with a couple of dollars inside. We loved the money, but having an actual letter addressed to us was the biggest thrill.

I wrote letters to my grandparents and my aunt because they lived far away from us. I’m sure my letters were filled with inconsequential details, but they were a glimpse into our daily lives.

I found a letter I’d written to my dad over 20 years ago after we’d taken our one and only trip to Europe. I could see the trip again in my mind from the details I gave him. I switched gears and detailed some of the frustrations of having temperamental toddlers.

My handwriting’s gotten a little sloppier over the years, but seeing my thoughts written in my own hand brought back memories of those long-ago days.

The last time I got an honest-to-goodness hand-written letter was last year from my cousin, Vickie. We’ve always called her Aunt Vickie and she’s an incredible writer. Her letters are like her – organized and filled with news about her children.

She always asks about my family, and always asks me to send her best to her cousin, my mom. My reply to her was typed because it’s faster, but I’m regretting I don’t take the time to actually write her a letter like she did for me.

These days, our mail consists of flyers from roofing companies or coupons from the local pizza restaurants. Occasionally we’ll get a bill from a doctor’s office, but for the most part, almost all of our mail is in the junk mail category.

I, for one, buck the trend. I have a box of greeting cards for all occasions, but the biggest section is for birthday cards. There’s cards with dinosaurs on the front, kids playing soccer, heart-felt cards and cards with hunting or fishing scenes.

My calendar lets me know when birthday are coming up, and I’m often on time when it comes to dropping a card in the mail. I know it’s old fashioned, but my young great nieces and nephews love getting a letter in the mail. My nieces tell me their children carry the card around all day.

It doesn’t matter that most people use e-mail or text messages to wish someone a happy birthday. I believe in the old ways when it comes to certain things like sending birthday cards in the mail. I suppose I’m also one of the few that also plays VHS tapes and has a box of floppy discs in my closet.

There’s no denying it’s easier, cheaper and quicker to send an email. I try to make the typed words in the response personal, but there’s no personality to a Times New Roman font. There is in someone’s handwriting – a flourish here, slanted letters there, little hearts in the margin and at the bottom.

Even though it’s not expensive stationery, I think I’ll pull out a few sheets of loose-leaf paper and write a letter to my Aunt Vickie with all the small, seemingly inconsequential details of our lives. Even though it’ll take a few days to get to her, something tells me she’ll enjoy getting a letter like that much more than an email.

Old fashioned? Yep, but sometimes, the old ways are best.

 

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald. 

 

I tend to be someone who often exaggerates.

I embellish the facts a little bit.

Okay, I exaggerate all the time.

Years ago, our dog was barking at the barbecue pit. When I opened the lid, there was a rat in there.

Every time I told that story, the rat got bigger and bigger. It snarled at me when I opened the lid, I’d tell people.

In reality, the rat was probably the size of a large mouse. With the way I was screaming, I scared that rodent more than it scared me.

A couple of weeks ago, I wrote about my sister-in-law’s dogs. They went after a snake that had gotten in the house.

The way I described the situation, the snake was as big around as a thick rope and about five feet long. I probably told people it was hissing and had reared up to strike.

In reality, the snake was only about five inches long and not even as thick as a pencil.

In my defense, a rat is a rat, and a snake is a snake.

We live in a world where exaggeration is how events are reported. The reason – hyping it up sells the news.

Newspapers used to keep track of how many subscribers they had and how many newspapers they sold each day.

Now news organizations base promotions, raises and revenue amounts on the number of “clicks” articles get.

A reporter could write an important article about the national debt but it probably won’t get as many clicks as people wanting to know about the best deals at Costco.

If you want a plain news story with just the facts, good luck. Most of the online news is hyped up. For example, a recent headline read:  “Southwest Airlines makes a change passengers will love.”

This headline made me curious – what exactly is Southwest doing that I’m going to absolutely love.

Get ready – Southwest is promoting its rewards program for those who fly through the end of November.

This is nothing new.

I’ve been using Southwest Airlines for many years, and they’re always running sales – one-way fares as low as $39 is a common promotion for them.

Southwest is using the same enticements they’ve always used. The difference is now they’re using sensational words to get your attention, your click and your money.

When it comes to health, the headlines are often doom and gloom. Here’s one – “the common mistake that could be wreaking havoc on your cholesterol.” That’s a clever headline because we all want to know how we can stay healthy.

The “common mistake?” Not working with a doctor to manage your cholesterol. That’s common all right – common sense.

A favorite tactic is using the line “here’s what happens to your body if you eat this one food every day.” You don’t know if it’s something good or bad so you click on the article.

Let me save you some time.

If you eat high-fat ice cream every day, you will gain weight.

If you snack on celery and cucumbers instead of ice cream, you will probably lose weight.

If you eat cheeseburgers and fries every night, your body will expand around the waist and your cholesterol will shoot up.

There. No need to ever click on those misleading headlines again.

Other words they use to get you to click on their articles are “stunned,” “heartbroken,” “sizzling deals,” “I can’t stop watching,” and, one of my favorite over-used phrases “swear by.”

An old newspaper saying was “if it bleeds, it leads.” That’s still true, but a rare sighting, an incredible product, and “here’s what everyone should know,” grabs the lead every time.

 

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.

There are a few things every household has.

A bathroom.

A front door.

A junk drawer.

Having a junk drawer is Housekeeping 101. There has to be a place to throw all those extra ketchup packets, obsolete paper take-out menus, twist ties and odd kitchen tools.

I’ve watched a few YouTube videos where overachievers empty out a junk drawer, buy expensive plastic inserts and put everything back nice and neat.

Go ahead and spend all that money on fancy dividers, but in two weeks, that drawer will revert to its original reason for existing – storing junk.

Things will migrate into chaos, but that’s okay. It’s a junk drawer and half the fun is rummaging around in there because you find all kinds of treasures while looking for what you want.

On a hot afternoon, I decided to straighten out a few messy places in the house. I went through the place where I keep dust rags and old towels. I threw away the ones with lots of rips and holes and kept the ones with only a few holes.

Then I spotted the junk drawer. I opened it and looked around. I had a couple of dividers in there, but those had been buried underneath junk years ago.

Instead of dreading cleaning out this drawer, much as I had with the old rags and towels, cleaning out the junk drawer was like being on a treasure hunt without the threat of quicksand or venomous snakes.

I started rummaging around. I found a 9-volt battery and one Batman walkie-talkie. Underneath those were a few small screwdrivers.

These are the ones that fit perfectly in kids’ toys. Must’ve been why I tossed that 9-volt battery and the walkie-talkie in here.

I found dozens of twist ties. I keep those because they come in handy when tying the strands of Christmas lights together before storing them for the year.

There were at least a dozen assorted small screws and nails. No use sorting those, I thought, and left them in the bottom of the drawer along with extra buttons, drapery hooks, nails, thumb tacks and paper clips.

Then I found something I’d been looking for since last year – extra matches.

At the last birthday party, none of us had any matches or a lighter. I remember when every restaurant had a bowl filled with matches by the cash register. Not anymore.

So I bought a 12-pack of matches, and then tossed them in the junk drawer. I hope the next time we have a birthday party I can remember where I put them.

I must have a thing for glue because I found three or four glue sticks – all dried up, of course — some kind of bond adhesive, caulk, Gorilla glue and a package of Super Glue. None of these, by the way, ever work for me.

There’s a set of pliers in here, along with a hammer and my dad’s beat-up flat-head and Phillips screwdrivers.

There’s also a few cheap metal wrenches that come with furniture. You’re supposed to throw them away, but those of us who can’t stand throwing things away – remember the towels with holes – believe those little wrenches could come in handy one day.

That day hasn’t come yet, but I’m hopeful.

There’s a role of kite string in the drawer. When I picked it up, I smiled, remembering when we took our son’s Cub Scout group kite flying.

The boy in the group who wasn’t the fastest or the strongest turned out to be the best kite flyer in the bunch. He got his kite up higher and faster than all the other Scouts.

That string is a reminder of fun days and fun times. And maybe that’s what most of the things in a junk drawer are for – they remind us of some happy memory.

Putting together a bookshelf with a small child, blowing out birthday candles or watching a shy child come into his own because we found a place where he could shine.

I closed the drawer without straightening anything out. A messy drawer is exactly what’s it designed to be – a place for memories.

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.