“It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas” is the song the late Bing Crosby recorded in 1951. That was over 70 years ago, and every year, Christmas starts looking like the holiday earlier and earlier.

The houses on my street already have their lights up, and I’m feeling the pressure to start decorating. But first things first, and that’s to find the perfect Christmas tree.

I know an artificial tree would make this decision a whole lot easier. All we’d have to do is haul the box down from the attic, set up the tree and be finished in a couple of hours.

Instead, I insist on a real tree every year. I know that tree was cut back in August and it’s already on its way to becoming a stick. But I love the adventure associated with a real tree.

First, it’s where to get the tree. We went to Christmas tree farms when our boys were young. We’d ride around the pasture in a wagon, singing carols, and then get out and find a tree.

This, of course, was after numerous arguments between the boys about which tree they wanted to cut down.

One tree would be too short. We found out the hard way that a short tree that looked perfect in the field would look like a shrub once we got it inside.

Then there’s the tall and thin tree – that looks good on a runway model, but I like a tree that’s got a bit of roundness in the middle.

Besides, when you’re short like me, if the tree is too tall, it’s impossible to put the angel on the top without a ladder. Whenever we’ve gotten a tall tree, the lights stop three fourths of the way up because that’s as far as I can reach.

If the tree’s too wide, there’s no place to put it and still be able to walk past the tree without bumping into furniture. But a wide tree offers lots of nooks and crannies to hang the bigger ornaments we have.

We’ve yet to find a tree that didn’t have a bad side. Usually there’s a big hole on one side which isn’t a problem. That side goes against the wall.

Some real trees lean to one side which isn’t evident until it goes in the tree stand. Others have thick trunks that don’t fit in the stand without taking a hatchet and whittling the trunk down.

Then there’s the decorating decisions. First, how many strands of lights can I fit on the tree? In my opinion, there’s never too many lights, so I put as many lights on as are in the storage box.

Should they twinkle or give off a steady light. Big bulbs or little bulbs. These are questions we tree decorators have to consider.

Then there’s the question of tinsel and garland. We grew up with a gold garland draped on the branches.

I tried to find garland like my mom had for our tree, but either it was too thick or too thin.

So I stopped putting garland on the tree and opted for icicles. For years, those were impossible to find. Now mail-order stores offer icicle packs – tinsel icicles for those searching for glittery silver strands – for under $5.

I think our tree needs at least $15 worth of tinsel.

In the end, the perfect tree is the one we decorate as a family and holds our collection of mis-matched and chipped ornaments, each one a special memory.

Something tells me that no matter where we buy that half-dead tree and no matter how many pounds of tinsel we drape on the branches, our tree will be the perfect one.

 

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald. 

It’s Thanksgiving 2023, the time to give thanks for all our blessings. Those are a lot like our plate at Thanksgiving – either smothered with gravy or slim pickings because we can’t cook, are away from home or can’t muster up the holiday season.

It’s easy to lose sight of some of the small things we’re thankful for, the small gifts that make life a little easier.

For example…

Instant movies. No longer do we have to wait for Thanksgiving to watch “The Wizard of Oz.” It’s there with the click of a button on TBS Friday night or in the middle of July from any streaming service.

These premium channels have gotten so good, we can watch a black-and-white movie from the 40’s and the latest blockbuster on the same day without ever leaving our living room.

Salad in a bag. I used to buy lettuce, tomatoes and cucumbers in bulk. It was cheaper and the only way those vegetables came.

I’d forget those healthy choices were in the refrigerator. So the lettuce wilted, the tomatoes were squishy and the cucumbers turned gross before I could use them.

Now I can have a variety of yummy add ons to a salad just by buying a bag of salad fixings. Want a Caesar salad? Buy the bag. What about salad with fruits. Same answer. No more wilted lettuce. No more soggy tomatoes.

Microwave popcorn. Those of us who grew up in the 50’s and 60’s remember making popcorn on top of the stove with a nifty product called “Jiffy POP.”

You’d shake a covered metal pie plate filled with unpopped kernels over a stove burner until the foil on top magically lifted, the sounds of popping corn filling the air.

Most of the time, we burnt the popcorn because it was hard to tell when most of the kernels were popped, despite the big ball on top of the pie plate.

Now, pop a brown bag in the microwave, hit the popcorn button and, three minutes later, the corn is all popped, salted and ready to eat.

Mini drinks. I can’t count the number of half-full cans of Coke, Pepsi or Dr. Pepper I’ve poured down the sink because a full can was too much. Now they make mini cans of carbonated beverages that are the right size. They even make mini bottles of cappuccino. Caffeine lovers are thrilled.

I’m thankful for the following items, but with reservations.

        Cell phones. Yes, they’re convenient. Yes, they’re smart. But if you call a number by mistake, there’s no trying to hang up quickly so the person on the other end didn’t know you called.

You can no longer call someone just to see if they’re home. They know you called. And if you’re one of those people who used to call somebody at least a dozen times because you were worried or obsessive, the jig’s up. They know you were checking on them.

Fast-Food Hamburgers. Yes, they’re convenient. Yes, they’re inexpensive. But nothing beats the smell of a hamburger cooking in the kitchen.

Add some onions and you’re all set. If the burger’s done right, it’s okay when the juice runs down your arm. In fact, that means the burger’s perfect.

Old fashioned isn’t always bad.

I’m happy my mom taught me how to cook Thanksgiving dinner. I’m grateful our house will smell like my childhood home with turkey, dressing, home-made mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes and pecan pie.

Growing up, I took for granted my mom would have a great Thanksgiving meal for us. Now I know how important it was that she took the time to make sure one meal became a big memory.

Maybe stepping back in time isn’t always bad.

Happy Thanksgiving to you and your family!

 

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald. 

Christmas is weeks away, but people on social media are already posting pictures of their homes decked out for the winter holidays.

It’s impossible to go into a store and not see Christmas and Hanukkah holiday decorations. Red-and-green sale signs are on top of every display, and Christmas songs are playing in the elevator.

Craft stores cleared out Halloween pumpkins weeks before the end of October. Thanksgiving gets two weeks and then retailers go straight from orange and brown to red and green.

I used to be one of those people who muttered and complained – “Can’t they wait to push Christmas until we’ve at least eaten turkey and dressing?” “What’s the rush? They’ll get our holiday dollars soon enough.” “Give it a rest – I’m still wearing shorts.”

But my attitude has changed.

Now, I’m thrilled that we’re already celebrating Christmas and Hanukkah. Sappy songs, twinkling lights, and tinsel – count me in.

I look forward to driving at night, just so I can see people’s homes decorated with lights, metal reindeer and waving Santas.

I can’t wait to drive through Pecan Grove to see all the homes decorated, especially the time-honored favorites. I’m like a child, anxious to see what new yard displays will appear this year.

There’s a reason why I changed my attitude from “wait your turn” to “bring it on.”

We need happiness.

The sooner, the better.

Many people are still reeling from the effects of a world-wide pandemic. Families lost a loved one to Covid, and that pain is as raw as it was when they were denied seeing their sick relatives in the hospital.

Children struggle to catch up in schools, the job market is on a roller coaster, and people are afraid of things closing down again. Whenever I see a story about Covid coming back and hear whispers of a shutdown, I want to scream at the computer.

There’s a war in the Middle East that’s violent and relentless. The photos of the dead and wounded are haunting.

The possibility of a government shutdown looms over our heads. I still remember the backlog caused the last time – passports and immigration papers were delayed for months.

The bad news is overwhelming, so much so, that I turn off the news, reruns of “The Andy Griffith Show” a better alternative.

But all is not doom and gloom.

One of the Houston radio stations started playing holiday music, and I’m tuning in, laughing and singing “Frosty the Snowman” along with Jimmy Durante.

I still get choked up when Josh Groban sings “I’ll be Home for Christmas,” and there’s no better holiday song than Nat King Cole’s “Christmas Song.” Just try to stay dry eyed during that ballad from the 60s.

The depressing news, the hatred in the world and the cynicism all around is enough to make me question whether or not there’s any good left.

But then I see a child looking at the Christmas displays in the store, wonder in their eyes, and know there’s still hope and magic. If a child can believe, so can I.

We’ll enjoy turkey and dressing on Thanksgiving and we’ll thank the Lord for all the gifts and blessings we’ve received. Families can still enjoy the autumn holiday with a Christmas tree in the living room.

Celebrate now. Don’t wait. Go ahead and put your Christmas decorations up, plug in the tree, light the candles and enjoy the love that surrounds you.

I know I will.

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald. 

Brain studies believe the left side is responsible for logic and order.

The right side is more aligned with creativity and intuition.

Together, the left and right side of the brain allow us to function at top levels.

The late humorist Jeanne Robertson referred to her husband as Left Brain, and I can relate 100 percent. Like the Robertson’s, my husband’s a left-brained person and I’m a right-brained human.

For a couple of months, my bike has been making sounds, like something’s rubbing on the tire. My right-brained solution was to ignore the sound by playing music on my phone while riding.

I asked my left-brained husband if he knew where I could take the bike to have it looked over. He said he did or I could let him look at the bike first. I got off and handed him the handlebars.

He rolled the bike back and forth, made his hand into a fist and hit the brakes a couple of times.

“Try that,” he said. I walked the bike a few feet and, wonder of wonders, the sound was gone.

He then went into a technical explanation of how the brakes work… my right-sided brain tuned out and marveled at how beautiful the sky looked and how many leaves were falling now that the weather’s cooled off.

Despite my trouble in thinking logically, I keep telling myself I can do complicated mechanical things. For instance, disabling the “maintenance required” prompt in my car.

YouTube fix-it videos are some of the most popular clips on that platform. So I typed in the problem and a couple of videos popped up.

I chose the one I understood the best. I got in the car with my phone and paper because my right brain needs step-by-step written directions – on flowered paper, of course.

Watching the video, I followed the instructions – I pressed the start button twice. The lights came on, just like in the video. I followed the next step, but the prompt didn’t come up like it did in the video.

I turned the car off and restarted the video. After the third time of being unsuccessful, I decided I could live with having the “maintenance required” screen on permanently.

After all, my right-brain rationalized, that screen’s small and I’ve ignored bigger things than that in the past.

Failure was still aggravating. I came inside, slamming the door behind me and throwing my keys on the counter.

“That stupid prompt about maintenance won’t go away,” I said. “I’m done.”

He sighed.

“Maybe you can let your spouse try and turn it off,” he said calmly.

Two minutes later, he came back inside and said the problem was fixed.

We right-brained people have to accept the reality of what we can and can’t do. I’m always going to struggle with getting flashlight batteries in the right way, even though there are plus and minus signs on the inside.

I’m never going to remember how to reset the clock in my car when it’s daylight savings time.

I’ve yet to figure out how to use the convection setting on our microwave, and I gave away our Instant Pot because I couldn’t figure out how to use it.

However, we right-brained people have a few tricks up our sleeve.

We can take scraps of material and create everything from quilts to pillows.

A can of spray paint is an opportunity to transform junk into treasures.

We see the world in vivid reds, blues and greens with adventure around every corner. Our imaginations transport us to beautiful, imaginary worlds every single day.

I’m moved to tears by beautiful music, a painting, no matter the age or talent of the artist, and the sound of a baby’s laugh.

So I can’t fix my computer, the brakes on my bike or reset the clock in my car.

My right brain knows to appreciate and thank my left-brained person who can do all those things.

 

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald. 

I fell yesterday.

I was leaving a store and tripped over the rug by the door. No physical injuries except a bruised hand and knee. My pride, however, was crushed because, years ago, I never would’ve tripped.

Older people on commercials are young and energetic. They’re wearing a sweater around their shoulders, their silver hair beautifully combed. They’re slim and athletic as they ride their bike, mountains in the background.

Let’s get real.

I ride a bike but I’m wearing a helmet, and I’ll never win the Tour de France. Maybe the Tour de Geezers.

Getting older has been humbling. I can remember so many insensitive phrases that came out of my mouth when I was young.

“I’ll never dye my hair.”

“I’ll never turn the music down.”

“I wish this old goat would drive faster.”

“No way I’ll ever go to bed before midnight.”

My natural hair color now is battleship gray, so it gets dyed every six weeks.

I value the hearing I have left so I turn the music down. Occasionally I’ll turn the music up, but the reason is simple – I can’t hear it.  I’m not ready for hearing aids, but I do tend to turn radios up louder than I did 10 years ago.

On the freeway, I’m the old goat driving slower – my reflexes aren’t what they were when I was 18 years old. However, I’m not in a huge hurry anymore. I understand the store will still be open when I get there. No appointment is worth a speeding ticket.

When I was younger, the weekends were for staying up until 2 a.m. and hitting the IHOP for breakfast. I stayed up until one in the morning not too long ago. I was a zombie for a week.

There are some advantages to being older. We head to a restaurant early to beat the crowd. It’s five o’clock, but we’re in and out before the crowd shows up. Plus, dozens of restaurants offer a menu with smaller portions for seniors.

After the age of 55, there are all kinds of ways for seniors to save a few bucks. Retailers from Big Lots to Kohl’s to Walgreen’s offer discounts on specific days of the week to those of us old enough to remember when The Beatles first hit the music scene. Since we’re not punching a time clock, we can head to a retail shop on a Wednesday and take advantage of the mid-week discounts.

For $10, I’m the proud owner of an America the Beautiful Senior Pass that gives me free entrance to all national parks for the rest of my life.

Of course, I’ll have to do something about these bum knees so I’m able to enjoy walking the trails.

There are things we seniors no longer spend money on. We don’t have to go to the movie theater to see the newest release. Sooner or later, that movie will show up on free television.

We don’t worry about the latest fashion – sensible shoes beat out stiletto heels, flannel shirts are much warmer in the winter than silk, and I don’t own anything that has to go to the dry cleaners.

In our golden years – which are sometimes like fool’s gold – we fall. We need hearing aids, bifocals, and orthopedic shoes. Little by little, it seems we’re falling apart.

Looking back, though, there were shining moments.

We watched the first human walk on the moon.

We were the first ones to see Luke Skywalker and Darth Vader light up the screen.

Most of us bear a scar on our arm from the polio vaccine and no longer lived in fear of this disease.

We heard John F. Kennedy and Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. change the world.

You know, being a geezer ain’t all bad.

 

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald. 

Standing in the grocery store line, I looked at a magazine cover. Another celebrity’s fast weight loss was the lead story. Ozempic-thin is the new label to throw at someone who loses a lot of weight rapidly.

Luckily, I don’t have to worry about being on the cover of a magazine for quick weight loss. I’ve been trying to lose the same 25 pounds since I was in my twenties.

Okay, 30 pounds.

Losing weight isn’t easy.

Diet experts tell you to throw away all the forbidden food in your pantry. I don’t see how innocent Little Debbie can be taboo, but she’s on the “Most Wanted List.”

She’s right up there with cute treats as Ding Dongs and Twinkies. How could they ever hurt you?

But in the trash they’re supposed to go. That’s throwing away good money, my mind tells me even though I know I shouldn’t have bought them in the first place.

My rational mind also says those empty-calorie treats aren’t healthy choices, but my checking account wins the argument.

Then there’s shame. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and wonder who’s staring back.

Surely that’s not me.

Surely I don’t have two chins instead of one. Let’s not even mention what I see in the rear view mirror.

I feel awful, ugly and not worthy of anything. Except maybe that Little Debbie cake in the pantry because Little Debbie’s innocent and sweet.

Shame and guilt aren’t the best motivators. Just ask any Catholic that goes to confession time after time with the same sins they confessed 30 years ago.

Instead, I try motivation. Be your best self! Be healthy! Be strong! After all these years, I’m starting to think my best self is the one that wears oversized T-shirts and baggy sweat pants.

Can’t argue with maintaining a healthy weight – everyone knows those extra pounds cause trouble for the joints, back and everything else that goes wrong with your body.

Losing weight by myself is pretty hard. That’s why I’ve joined Weight Watchers at least a dozen times.

The first time I joined was when I was 25 years old. My dad called and said he’d signed me, my mom and himself up for Weight Watchers.

“You were fat before and you’re fatter now,” he said.

Ouch.

But it worked. Together we all lost weight and he kept it off. Mine returned home, much like Lassie did, with my first pregnancy. Then those pounds brought their friends with my second pregnancy and those pounds invited all their relatives to join the party on my hips.

I still go to Weight Watchers. The pounds leave, they return, and then we start the process all over again. They give out pins and awards for milestone weight losses – five pounds, ten, twenty, fifty. I keep wondering if they’re going to give out pins for those who’ve joined and rejoined Weight Watchers. If so, I’d have enough pins to fill a jewelry box.

I tried seeing a hypnotist – all that did was convince me that hypnosis might work on television, but not in real life. Plus my checking account was $100 lower.

I’ve been on the Sugar Busters and South Beach diets, Jenny Craig, Dr. Atkins and Carbohydrates Addicts plans. I donated all those books to the Friends of the Library.

I gave up real sugar for Sweet’n’Low, Coca Cola for Tab and chocolate for apples. For those of us with a real addiction to sugar, these substitutes don’t cut the mustard – which, by the way, has zero calories.

I suppose Little Debbie and I will have to finally come to a truce. She can live in my memories but not in my pantry.

I hope she understands.

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.