My husband was at a meeting last night, so I volunteered to take the dog on her nightly walkabout. I was talking to my mom on the phone when I grabbed the leash and a flashlight.

The walk was quick since it was so cold. When I headed up the driveway, I started rummaging around in my pocket for my house keys.

The only thing I found was a crumpled gum wrapper.

Then I felt around my neck for the lanyard that has a house key on it.

Nothing.

Because I wasn’t paying attention, I’d forgotten to put the key in my pocket or around my neck.

I remembered we had a key hidden outside, so I used the flashlight to look for the container. It wasn’t in the two spots I remembered, so I texted my husband. He reminded me we’d moved the hidden key last year, and he stayed on the line while I searched.

Piles of mulch had covered the places where he told me to look, and I came up empty handed. Luckily, his meeting was minutes from the house, so he said he’d come home and let me in.

As the dog and I waited in the driveway, I mentally slapped myself on the forehead. Forgetting the key – what a stupid thing to do. Then I started listing all the stupid things I’ve done, going back to high school.

I was painting a blue stripe in my bedroom, holding a can of blue enamel paint in one hand and a paintbrush in the other.

I was standing on an old wooden folding chair and when I moved to reach a corner, the chair collapsed and I spilled the entire can of blue paint all over the carpet.

A few weeks ago, I turned the water on to fill up the kitchen sink. While the water was running, I decided to put some clothes away.

While in our room, I made the bed, totally forgetting the running water. I got back to the kitchen just as the water was reaching the top of the sink.

I did the same thing with the bathtub last year.

Stupid mistakes.

Then again, aren’t all mistakes stupid? That’s why they’re called mistakes, because it’s when something goes wrong that was unexpected.

Still, I beat myself up when I do something dumb, vowing I’ll never make that mistake again. I’ve been successful a few times.

Before keyless entries into vehicles, I used to keep a spare key in a magnetic box under the back bumper of my car. I had another key in my jewelry box and, for good measure, I gave another key to my neighbor.

I never wanted to find myself stranded in a parking lot again with two screaming toddlers and a basket full of groceries while waiting for someone to let me into my mini-van.

There’s a small pink note taped to the dashboard of my car with one word on it – wallet. That’s because I’ve forgotten my wallet more than once and had to come back home for it, leaving my groceries at the checkout.

I’ve gone the whole day with my shirt on backwards and, more than once, have worn my shirt inside out.

I’ve worn a black shoe and a brown shoe because I got dressed in the dark. If they were the same style, I could dismiss the stupid mistake. However, they were totally different styles and I didn’t notice what I’d done until I got to work.

First thing tomorrow, I’m headed to the hardware store to have another spare house key made. Experience tells me this won’t be the last time I’ll lock myself out of the house.

We stupid people know our limitations.

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald. 

Hopefully all the holiday gifts have been opened and the leftovers are gone. It’s time to start a new year, and we’re keeping our fingers crossed for a safer and calmer 2022.

This past year started off rocky – protesters stormed the U.S. Capitol in what had to be the most surreal event we’ve ever witnessed.

The coronavirus was raging, there were fist fights in the grocery store over those who refused to wear a mask and those who demanded everyone wear one.

The name “Karen” moved from evoking memories of the popular singer Karen Carpenter to a vile woman who screams at other people to get her way.

Senseless shootings. Domestic violence. Conspiracy theories. The news went from bad to worse.

But by the time summer rolled around, coronavirus cases were on the decline and people started to return to a somewhat normal way of life.

Trick or treaters lined the streets, people gathered for Thanksgiving meals and Christmas shopping was at an all-time high.

We were hungry for more than turkey and dressing. We were hungry for human contact, especially the smiles and hugs we’d taken for granted.

Not anymore.

We know to treasure every family get together, every opportunity to hug someone else and every chance to experience life with other people.

We also know there’s no real “normal” anymore. So, let’s make some different goals for 2022.

Choose the one or two you like and pass on the others. If we’ve learned anything from the past two years, it’s that we need to enjoy life as it comes along. To wait is to potentially miss out.

• Have a piece of pie. In fact, indulge in a fine piece of chocolate, a cupcake or something not on the diet at least once a month.
• Plant something. Even if you’re in an apartment or a rental, pick up a pot and a small green plant and watch it grow on the patio or in the kitchen window.
• Get out of a rut. That could be a music rut – there are thousands of artists online you can listen to for free. You might think you don’t enjoy country or alternative music but give an artist a try. Try a new hair style. It’s just hair. It’ll grow back.
• Take a different way home from work or school. I took a side road home a few weeks ago and was able to see a spectacular sunset without cars or buildings in the way. I wouldn’t have seen that on the congested road I normally use.
• Donate something. Clean out part of your closet, empty out a crafts cabinet or go through your books. There are dozens of places happy to accept what you no longer need. Common Threads, Helping Hands and Katy Christian Ministries come to mind.
• Support local businesses and restaurants. You know what you’re getting every time you order from a chain, but nothing beats the scrumptious surprises from a mom-and-pop diner.
• Stop judging those who wear a mask or those who don’t. Be tolerant of those who are hesitant to get back into the general population.
• Give thanks. Despite all the turmoil in the world, the sadness so many of us have in our lives and the tough road so many of us walk, there’s always something to be thankful for, even if it’s simply rolling out of bed in the morning. Happy New Year!

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald. 

 

For over 10 years, Herald readers have tested their skills on what former managing editor Bob Haenel and columnist Denise Adams consider the best movie ever made, “It’s a Wonderful Life.”

The movie is about George Bailey, a man who doesn’t realize the positive impact he’s had on the town and people of Bedford Falls.

George wanted to go to college, build skyscrapers and travel the world. Instead, circumstances caused him to stay in a “crummy little town,” believing he was denied the opportunity to achieve his dreams.

Bob said George was a plain guy, one we can relate to, especially the feeling like we’ve been cheated out of our dreams. When we’re young, we have grandiose thoughts of what we’ll achieve. Life often has different plans, and it’s often difficult to see the silver lining in the cloudy sky.

The good guy wins, Bob pointed out, even though we all wish Potter would’ve been arrested for stealing the money. In the end, George learned a lot about what really counts in life, the most important lesson from Clarence: “no man is a failure who has friends.”

“This still rings true,” Bob said. “What’s important are relationships.”

Nobody understands that creed more than Bob. He told reporters we were here for the “little guy.” He’d take a happy birthday call as easily as one from the mayor. Like Peter Bailey, Bob believes everyone counts and small favors add up to a pretty wonderful life.

So here is Bob’s annual “It’s a Wonderful Life” Christmas quiz. We’ve divided the quiz into two parts – a relatively easy one and a harder one for the die-hard fans of IAWL.

The answers to both are at the bottom of this column. Merry Christmas and remember, an ordinary life can be extraordinary.

It’s up to us to pay attention.

 

Quiz Part I:

 

1. How does George know he’s alive again?
2. What animal has the same IQ as Clarence?
3. How much money did Uncle Billy lose?
4. When George sees what life was like without him, what was his mother doing?
5. What does Uncle Billy use to remember things?
6. What magazine does George show Mary at Mr. Gower’s ice cream parlor?
7. What did Mr. Gower’s son, Robert, die of?
8. What dance contest were George and Mary entered in at the gym?
9. What drawing does Mary have on an easel when George comes over?
10. What three items do Mary and George give to the Martini’s for their new home?
11. Who directed the movie?
12. George couldn’t hear out of one ear. Which one?

 

Answers to Quiz I:

1. He finds Zuzu’s petals in his pocket and it’s snowing again.
2. A rabbit
3. $8,000
4. Running “Ma Bailey’s Boarding House”
5. He’d tie a string to his finger.
6. National Geographic
7. Influenza
8. The Charleston
9. “George lassos the moon”
10. Bread – so you’ll never know hunger, salt so your life will have flavor, and wine for joy and prosperity forever
11. Frank Capra
12. Left ear

 

Quiz – Part II

 

1. What was George’s draft classification and why?
2. What was Janie playing on the piano to get ready for the Christmas party?
3. What was the name of the Bedford Falls newspaper?
4. George puts the petals to Zuzu’s flower in his pocket. What kind of flower was it?
5. What was Clarence’s full name and rank?
6. What did Clarence order at Martini’s bar?
7. Uncle Billy had lots of pets. Name two.
8. What does Violet order in Mr. Gower’s soda shop?
9. What do the boys form to save Harry from drowning?
10. What kind of factory does Ruth’s father own?
11. What does George tell Uncle Billy the three most exciting sounds in the world are?
12. Three events stopped George from leaving Bedford Falls? Name one.

 

Bonus:  What are the names of the two people who work for the Bailey Savings & Loan?

 

 

 

 

 

 

ANSWERS BELOW:

Answers to Quiz II:

1. 4F because he couldn’t hear out of one ear
2. “Hark the Herald Angels Sing”
3. The Bedford Falls Sentinel
4. A rose
5. Clarence Oddbody AS2 (Angel Second Class)
6. Mulled wine
7. Owl, hamster, dog, parakeet, squirrel, crow
8. Shoelaces – 2 cents’ worth
9. A chain gang
10. A glass factory
11. Anchor chains, plane motors and train whistles
12. His father died, Harry takes a job in Buffalo, the stock market crashes

 

Bonus answer:  Cousins Eustace and Tilly. The address is 320 Sycamore

 

You can find us on Facebook or send an email to dhadams1955@yahoo.com

For those who celebrate Christmas, opening presents is at the top of the list of fun holiday activities. I’ve always been a nosy person, and not knowing what was underneath the tree was agonizing for me.

I was a pro at snooping. I’d shake the boxes and feel all over the fronts and sides, trying to figure out what was inside.

I would gently peel the tape off, carefully pull off the paper, look at what was inside and then rewrap the gift.

There weren’t any surprises for me, but my curiosity was stronger than my willingness to be shocked.

My dad knew I was a world-class snoop. One year, he came in with a wrapped box for my Mom and put it under the tree.

“What’s in there?” I asked, always the nosy kid.

“A coffee maker,” he replied. “If your mom asks what’s in there, go ahead and tell her.”

I was thrilled he’d told me but a little sad as I couldn’t snoop and find out for myself. Mom came in later that day, saw the box and smiled.

“I wonder what’s in here,” she said as she touched the big box.

“It’s a coffee maker,” I blurted out.

Her face fell. I’d taken away the surprise, and I felt a little guilty.

“Dad said if you asked, I could tell,” I said, trying to explain.

When Mom opened the box on Christmas, a stereo was inside. My face fell.

“You said it was a coffee maker,” I said to my dad. He laughed.

“I knew you couldn’t resist telling her, so I didn’t tell you the truth,” he replied, and I knew he was right.

My husband and I still laugh over our eldest boy’s Christmas list when he was in the first grade. There were three items on the 7-year-old’s list:  a checking account, a money tree and a pony.

Let’s just say Santa didn’t deliver on any of those items.

Even though I’m good at figuring out what’s in the boxes, I’m not the best at gift-giving. I agonize over what to give everyone, usually striking out.

The shirts I buy are either too small or too big, not the right style or not what our boys want. My inability to choose well caused my middle son to take action. He emails me a detailed list of what he wants for Christmas.

One year, his list was divided into two categories:  What to buy and what not to buy. I still remember what was underneath the “do-not-buy” banner:  pajama pants, sweat pants with elastic cuffs and dress clothes – “you have bad taste.”

Underneath the “what-to-buy” headline were the direct links to the items he wanted, including the correct size and color. In all honesty, that’s the best list I ever get because I know he’ll like everything.

On the other hand, the gifts he gives us are spot on. He gave me a small space heater one year, and I use it daily when winter arrives. One year, he gave me a Kindle reader, and I use that on every trip we go on.

Same goes for the Blue-Tooth speaker he gave me. It stayed in the box for almost a year because I didn’t know what it was. Our youngest son saw the box and couldn’t believe I wasn’t using the speaker.

Now, I use it all the time, and thank Stephen for being such a good gift giver.

Our oldest has forgiven me for not planting a money tree in the back yard, and his gifts are always what I need and love – a leg massager I use every other day tops the list.

I’ll be making the last of the Christmas run this week, and I’m going to try and find the perfect gift that’s not what they expect to receive.

A snoop can always hope.

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.  

Technology is fantastic. In a matter of seconds, we can find out how to unclog a sink, build a house and power wash an elephant.

One of the best technology advances is Google Maps. With a few clicks, we can find our way to the most out-of-the-way places without getting lost or frustrated.

There are times, however, I miss getting verbal directions from a person, especially Southerners.

Former Fort Bend Herald editor Bob Haenel always gave me accurate, country-slanted, directions.

When I first started the job, I had an interview in Needville. I’d never been there, so I asked Bob how to get to this particular address.

He told me to head south on Highway 36 until I saw the Needville city limits sign.

“Then turn left at the light,” he said.

“Which light?” I asked.

“The light,” he replied.

He was right.

Here’s another Haenel direction. I asked him for how to get to a place out in the country, and he thought for a second.

He grabbed a piece of paper and started sketching out a map. As he drew, he told me stories about the houses and people I’d pass on the way.

Google Maps will send me past stores that sponsor the site, but nothing can compete with directions that are complete with family and town histories.

My husband and I speak two different languages when it comes to directions. He uses words like “north and south, eastern corner and parallel.” I use phrases like “across from the grocery store, next to that car dealership and the place with the ugly paint job.”

Right after my dad passed away, I was driving to College Station with my youngest son. I was lost in sadness and suddenly realized I didn’t know where I was. My husband was out in the woods, but I called him anyway.

“I’m lost and I need you to tell me where I am,” I said. Even now, I’m embarrassed that I expected him to know where I was a hundred miles away from him.

He must’ve sensed how upset I was because he calmly asked me to describe what I was seeing and the turns I’d made.

“Just keep driving because I think you’re on the right road,” he said. “I won’t hang up until you see a sign.”

In a couple of miles, I saw the sign for College Station and breathed a sigh of relief. There’s no way Google Maps is that understanding.

Years ago, my son bought me one of the first GPS devices manufactured, a TomTom GPS. That little invention was great until I’d decide to take a different route.

“Recalculating route,” Tom would state in that robot voice.

I’d keep driving, unable to turn it off, and Tom would repeat “recalculating.” After the third time of recalculating, I swear I heard him sigh.

Ole Tom went a little too far one time, and I threw him in the trunk so I wouldn’t have to hear him yelling “recalculating.”

Luckily, the new GPS apps reroute without giving you the obnoxious reminder that you turned the wrong way. They seem to understand you’ve changed your mind and are polite enough not to point out you’re not following the correct directions.

I’m still a bit skeptical about the GPS. Last month, I was going to a retiree dinner in north Houston, and Google Maps sent me an hour out of the way. I didn’t feel stupid as two other people said Google had done the same thing to them.

Every once in a while, I’ll get out a paper map so I can keep my map reading skills sharp. I figure it’s a lost art, much like churning butter.

There’s a feeling of power knowing where I’m going because I figured out how to get there.

 

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald. 

Whenever the Hebert clan gets together, family “remember-when” stories always come up.

I’m guilty of telling stories I think are funny but are often embarrassing to my brothers and sisters.

On a recent Zoom call, one of my siblings joked I had “revisionist history” recall. I was telling a story that didn’t put him in the best light, even though he was only 7 years old when it happened.

I thought a lot about that comment and made myself a promise. From now on, my nieces and nephews, siblings and in-laws will hear stories that spotlight the goodness in our family.

I’ll tell them how their eldest uncle was one of the most respected members on his high school football team despite being one of the smaller players.

He worked his way through dental school with a young family, built a thriving practice and is in the top tier of his profession. He volunteers at his church and is a tireless helper in the community.

Another brother was one of the top geologists in his office before retiring. He taught himself how to play the guitar, and sings and writes beautiful music when he’s not sharing his faith on the radio waves.

Our middle sister had a reputation for taking care of bullies for all of us when we were kids. She still does that but through civic organizations and as the extremely capable person who handles benefits for her company.

For years, her and her husband’s comfortable home has been open to all who need shelter and a home-cooked meal. They are two of the most respected people in their town and in our family.

The little 7-year-old boy grew into a teenager who stepped in as a male role model when my oldest son was a toddler. Whenever I was scared to stay by myself, he came over, often sleeping on the couch, just to keep me company. He fixed my car and did my home repairs when I was a single mom, and he did all that without complaining.

He handles adversity with grace and is admired by his three beautiful daughters, sons-in-law and adorable grandchildren.

One of the stories I told about our youngest sister is when she was 4 years old and my mom wouldn’t make her compete in a beauty pageant because she was shy. My sister would’ve won that contest hands down.

What I need to tell is how she always helps kids be the best they can be, from her own to the hundreds of pre-schoolers she taught to the high-school teens she encourages to find their way in a grown-up world. She’s strong, active in the community and could still win a beauty contest.

Not only is our youngest brother an outstanding and gifted artist, he’s an incredible story-teller with an iron-clad memory about most things, but especially comics. His Nerdmudgeon podcast about the Marvel Cinematic Universe is entertaining and intelligent.

He is a gifted writer and can dance better than John Travolta. He’s compassionate with a quick, sharp, witty sense of humor.

My siblings listen without judging, love without limits and are respected in their families, their fields of work and their communities.

When I tell family stories from now on, I will concentrate on making sure our cousins, nieces and nephews hear the positive accounts. Those endearing tales far outnumber the embarrassing ones.

I’ve learned it’s much better to praise than humiliate. The heart and head thrive when nurtured with love.

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald. 

Hello America! It’s me, Thanksgiving, a day to remember a time when the Pilgrims and Native Americans shared food.

We know that story has been embellished over the years but celebrating that special turkey dinner is now a 200-year tradition.

Sadly, I feel I’m in the shadow of my older, more popular sibling, Christmas.

The reasons are understandable. Last year, Covid robbed people of getting together at the biggest family celebration of the year, so people are anxious to put up Christmas trees and holiday lights.

Most of all, Christmas offers presents.

But I have a lot to offer you!

First, the food is outstanding on Thanksgiving. Turkeys are the main attraction, and they bring along their two favorite buddies – gravy and bread stuffing, or dressing as Southerners like to say.

In fact, people have taken this side dish to a culinary level unimaginable 200 years ago.

There’s oyster dressing, cornbread dressing, bread dressing, sausage dressing and even vegan dressing. People put everything in dressing from walnuts to pecans to cranberries. And dressing isn’t complete without its favorite companion, mashed potatoes.

Today’s the day when you can eat marshmallows as a main dish without any guilt. Any other day, you might feel a tad embarrassed to slather roasted marshmallows on a pan of sweet potatoes, but not today.

And desserts! Let’s examine those for a second. There’s pecan and apple pie and both bring along their favorite companion, a scoop of vanilla ice cream.

But the star of the dessert table is pumpkin pie. Nothing beats a slice of creamy, orange pumpkin pie with a big dollop of whipped cream on top.

I’ve seen pumpkin in coffee, candy and tea. There’s pumpkin vodka, ice cream, cookies, candles, room spray and car fresheners. You can thank me, Thanksgiving, for bringing pumpkin to your attention.

In all honesty, I’m not a fan of some of the side dishes. Green-bean casserole is one of them. At no other time of the year would you take two cans of green beans, drown them in cream-of-mushroom soup, dump an entire can of fried onion rings on top and serve that as a nutritious side dish.

Same goes with ambrosia. Mixing together coconut, pineapple, mandarin oranges, cherries and whipped cream and calling that a healthy side dish is stretching things a bit, don’t you think?

But they’re both yummy and a Thanksgiving tradition.

Thanksgiving isn’t complete without the smell of fresh, hot rolls. I know it’s tough to find time to mix yeast, flour and water to make home-made rolls the size of a softball, so it’s okay to open a box of pre-made rolls and stick them in the oven for 7 minutes. The smell’s still the same and you need something to sop up all that gravy.

And let’s not forget the decorations! Most of you can remember being in the school Thanksgiving play and either wearing a pilgrim hat or a headband with feathers. You can thank me for that memory.

If you have children, chances are good they drew at least one turkey using their hand as the template and you’re still displaying that on my day.

Just remember, without me, you wouldn’t have pumpkin pie, the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade and three, count ‘em three, NFL football games in one day.

But who am I kidding. Christmas is the big dog in this winter holiday fight. All I’m asking for is a smidge of respect, America.

So when you’re eating that turkey sandwich on Friday, turkey gumbo on Saturday, turkey quesadillas on Sunday and another turkey sandwich on Monday, you can thank me.

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald. 

I particularly dislike – okay hate – call routing. That’s the official name for when someone calls a phone number and an automated system sends callers to the right extension.

In theory, it’s supposed to save time.

In theory, it’s supposed to be more efficient.

In reality, call routing is frustrating for the customer and a waste of positive customer relations for the company.

Recently, I needed to make a dental appointment. Our former dentist sold his practice, so I was looking around for someone new closer to home.

A friend recommended her dentist. I called the number and got this familiar message:  “Please listen carefully as many of our options have changed.”

I’ve never understood this warning.

Few people memorize call options. This office has already wasted time with options I never realized I had.

Usually one of the “press this number” options is where I want to go. In the dental office, making an appointment was one of the last choices after I heard about all the services this dental office provides.

Pressing the number for appointments gave me the lovely opportunity to choose again from a new set of choices. I kept pressing zero until the system decided I was probably an idiot and passed me on to a real person who scheduled my appointment.

I’ve gotten so frustrated with call routing that when I have the option to say something, I yell all kinds of names to get a real person – “manager, operator, human!”

If that doesn’t work, I press zero repeatedly, hoping the system will malfunction and connect me with a human.

Sometimes this works.

But the caller never wins because that human says they’ll connect me with someone who call help me. You guessed it – I’m back in the call routing line.

The call routing people are crafty. Not only are you stuck on hold, they make you listen to advertisements for their company.

“If you’re interested in our low-interest credit card, stay on the line…”

“If you’d like to speak to an associate about trade-ins, stay on the line…”

“If you’d like to speak to a real person, you’re out of luck. That’s not one of our options.”

Last week, I called a doctor’s office for my mom. These people took the prize for the most convoluted call routing I’ve ever experienced.

First I had to choose if I wanted to talk to a doctor, wanted information about their new procedure – that was a 30-second sales talk – or billing. If I was experiencing a medical emergency, I was supposed to call 911.

I wondered how many people call the doctor’s office while they’re having a heart attack and stay on the line, waiting for the right number to press.

For heart patients, dial two. For test results, press three. For the cardiology lab, press four. Doctors should press six, and pharmacies seven. There wasn’t an option for appointments, so I listened again.

I tried to sneak through and pressed six. That took me back to the main menu.

I guess the call routing geniuses figured out a real doctor would have a secret number to call and not get stuck in the call routing line.

Hanging up, I called back and didn’t press any buttons, hoping the system would connect me with a real person.

That resulted in getting me disconnected.

By the time I got through the call routing routine and a no-nonsense switchboard operator came on the line, it was 4:01 p.m. She said the doctor’s office closed at 4 p.m. and to call back tomorrow. My frustration level was off the chart at that point.

Not all phone calls are best handled by a computer or machine. Sometimes, that gold ole human touch is what’s best for business.

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald. 

For the first time in years, I was taking an airplane trip by myself.

No friend to help me navigate crowded concourses.

No husband to blindly follow. I was flying the post-Covid-era skies all by myself.

The voice inside my head talked out of both sides of her mouth.

“Stop being a whiny-baby,” was one. This voice was the strong side, the one who believed I could not only navigate the airport but easily sail through the TSA screening line and baggage pick up.

This voice reassured me I could probably put the plane on auto pilot at 30,000 feet and make small talk with passengers as I passed out coffee and peanuts.

Then there was the other voice.

“You. Cannot. Do. This. Alone.”

This sneaky voice told me I’d forget something at the security check point.

The voice said I was going to miss my connection because I couldn’t maneuver the Atlanta airport all by myself.

This voice said I’d never remember my gate numbers, even though both the boarding passes and seat numbers were on my phone and written in the notebook I had in my purse.

Then the voice whispered “What if your phone dies? What if you lose your purse? What if you lose your wallet with all your identification and your credit card?” This voice had the “what ifs” down to a crippling science.

The whiny voice had an ally. My connecting flight in Atlanta to Greensboro, N.C. was a tight fit.

When I made the connection, I was a little concerned, but it was the last flight out of Atlanta to Greensboro.

I was determined to watch our grandchildren play in their soccer game that morning. So I rolled the dice, hoping the flight from Houston would arrive in Atlanta on time.

While waiting to board the plane to Atlanta, I was chatting with a pilot. I asked him about connections in Atlanta since that was his home base.

“I tell people if they don’t have an hour and a half in Atlanta, they’ll never make their connection,” he said.

I had 50 minutes.

The whiny voice practically smiled.

I thought about having to spend the night in Atlanta. The whiny voice told me there wouldn’t be a room available since the World Series games were in Atlanta that night. The voice told me I could try sleeping on the floor, but I’d probably get mugged.

I texted my youngest sister in North Carolina and told her I’d call if I missed my flight, which was probably a safe bet to make. She texted me back:  “If you run into a glitch, you are a smart, capable woman and you will figure it out!”

The relief I felt was instantaneous.

My strong voice took center stage. She reminded me of the many times I’d stepped up in tough situations and figured it out. The results weren’t always pretty, but I’d always come up with a solution.

I’ll always struggle with the two voices in my head. Sometimes that whiny voice will be louder, the one that’ll cause me to doubt my decisions and every choice I’ve made.

But then I’m going to remember – I made that connection in Atlanta. True, the flight attendant closed the main doors behind me when I got on the plane to Greensboro, sweating after riding the train from literally one end of the airport to the other and running for the gate, hauling my suitcase and a heavy backpack.

I didn’t lose my phone or my boarding passes. I’d made the trip home without any worries because I listened to my strong voice.

I’d still rather have my husband with me on my travels and I’ll probably be happier if my future flights are non-stop.

But just in case my phone dies, I lose my purse or there is a tight connecting flight, I’ll listen to my strong self.

She not only believes I could figure out a solution, but I could also step into the cockpit and land that plane with my eyes closed.

She just might be right.

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald. 

 

There are songs that, when you hear them, cause you to stop in your tracks, close your eyes and become one with the music.

“Black Velvet” by Alannah Myles is that song for me. The song, released in 1990, was written by Canadian songwriters Christopher Ward and David Tyson.

One afternoon, “Black Velvet” came on the radio when I was in the car with my eldest grandson. I immediately turned up the volume and started tapping on the steering wheel with the beat.

He looked at me, questions in his eyes.

“This song is about Elvis Presley,” I told him.

A blank stare.

“People used to paint his likeness on black velvet,” I said.

Still a blank stare.

“What’s black velvet?” he asked. “And who’s Elvis Presley?”

How do I explain the impact the Elvis Aaron Presley had on an entire generation? How do I sufficiently explain the effect this sexy country boy from Mississippi had on the rock and roll scene back in the day?

Elvis was a little before my time but there’s no denying his explosion on the entertainment scene changed music. There were talented Black artists who wrote and sang these rock-and-roll songs before Elvis. This Mississippi singer had the opportunity to make it on the national stage.

Songs like “Nothing like a Hound Dog,” “Love Me Tender,” and “Jailhouse Rock” might seem old-fashioned these days, but when they hit the airwaves, they were like a seismic jolt.

My mom said the heart throbs for her generation were Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin in their tuxedos and smooth voices. When Elvis showed up in jeans and a slicked back, black pompadour, the girls went crazy.

When he shook those hips on the Ed Sullivan show, the network refused to let him be filmed from the waist down.

The first time I heard “Black Velvet,” I didn’t know what the song was about. Then one day I saw a black-velvet painting with Elvis’s likeness in an antique store.

That’s when I knew – people loved this man so much, they’d paint his likeness on one of the most luxurious fabrics in the world. Velvet suits Elvis’s voice perfectly. That Mississippi twang was a totally Southern voice, dripping with sugar, a little bit of whiskey thrown in for effect.

“Black Velvet’s” lyrics sum up Presley’s presence. Elvis did have that “little boy smile,” and he did establish a new religion – rock and roll that brought a whole generation to their knees. His songs were raw, full of emotion and light years away from any of 1950s tunes.

He reinvented himself in Las Vegas in the late 60s and early 70s, where his sold-out shows brought in over 2.5 million fans. His private retreat, Graceland, brought in over half a million visitors yearly before Covid. The only other house to see more visitors is the White House.

As the song says, Elvis was gone too soon. He died on Aug. 16, 1977 at the age of 42. He was in the midst of another comeback, having switched from jeans to white, jewel-studded jumpsuits.

His fans still grieve for him, whether they remember him from his go-go movie “Viva Las Vegas” to his surfer flick “Blue Hawaii.” Some might remember a trim, black-leather clad King still sporting his signature lip curl, long sideburns and growly voice.

Still others picture Elvis performing in Las Vegas, overweight and bloated, but where the women still screamed his name. Still others will remember Elvis whenever they see his likeness painted on black velvet.

There’ll never be another one like The King.

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.