Friday night football games are legendary in the South. From small towns to big cities, people love to rally around the home-town team, honoring athletes, wearing matching jerseys and filling the stadium seats. Doesn’t matter if it’s 98 degrees or 10 below, die-hard football fans show up.

What helps fuel the passion is often a cross-town rivalry. Growing up, my alma mater, Baker High School, was always in competition with Glen Oaks High School situated a few miles away.

Those games were always the most fun with chants and school pride thrown around like Mardi Gras beads.

Terry High and Lamar Consolidated High School are similar rivals. Lamar CHS was the first high school built when the Richmond and Rosenberg high schools combined into one school district, Lamar CISD. Terry was built soon afterwards.

Other high schools have come into the area, but Terry and Lamar have always maintained a friendly rivalry. So it was with good cheer fans from both sides crowded into Traylor Stadium for the fourth annual Battle of the Berg.

The schools have played each other numerous times, but the good-natured rivalry heated back up about four years ago. Since then, there’s a big bell that goes to the winner of The Battle of the Berg as well as bragging rights for the next year.

Each year, the schools choose a worthy organization to donate funds to and an organization to honor.

Firefighters and police officers were chosen this year and rightly so. Our first responders put their lives on the line every time they go out on a call. Most of us can’t say our jobs require us to risk our lives, but first responders sign up and then carry out that promise.

Before the game, police officers ran onto the field with the Lamar team, and firefighters ran onto the field with the Terry team.

Some of these brave men and women stood alongside the players on the 50-yard line for the coin toss to see who’d be receiving the ball first.

They were then invited to stand on the track as bystanders for an up-close view of the game, and they had huge smiles on their faces as they watched the football game unfold.

That is until they heard shouting in the stands and people pointing into the crowd. Immediately, these wonderful officers turned around and immediately jumped up and climbed over the fence to get to the person who’d passed out.

Men and women officers were on their radios as officers ran up the stands carrying medical equipment. With first responders giving him oxygen and monitoring his vital signs, the young man regained consciousness and the officers carefully brought him down on a stretcher where he recovered.

When things calmed down, the first responders came back down to the track to finish watching the game. I commended them for their quick action, and they said it was part of their job. They never know when they’re needed, but when they are, they’re there.

These first responders came to the Battle of the Berg to watch two rival teams compete to see who’d take home the trophy.

Instead, they saved someone’s life.

That’s the difference between what first responders do and the rest of us. At a minute’s notice, they are called upon to save a life, and the trophy was immediately forgotten. A life was much more important.

We are beyond blessed to have these fine men and women in our midst.

Thank you, first responders, for all you do, no matter where you are.

 

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald. 

Our neighbors did a huge favor for us last week, and I wanted to thank them.

A card didn’t seem like a big-enough effort, so I thought about ways to express our gratitude to Arthur and Courtney for the many ways they look out for us.

It’s hard to find ways to thank people these days. When I was growing up, my Aunt Vicky baked banana bread to show her appreciation.

I can still remember the sight of the bread as it sat on the counter, wrapped snugly in aluminum foil, a promise of a sweet snack later that day.

These days, it’s hard to bake something for someone to reciprocate for a variety of reasons. First, health. Most baked goods are fattening, but that’s also why they’re so popular.

Then there’s the whole sugar debate. Articles put sugar right up there with Satan, and those with little children look at you as if you’re trying to poison their child if you dare offer them a chocolate-chip cookie or a Little Debbie cake.

So baking goodies is out of the question.

I thought about baking a casserole, but diet and sugar comes up again. Plus, most people are trying to eat a healthy diet, and most of the recipes I have that transport well all have a ton of cheese and cream in them.

That’s why they taste good.

If I tried to make something healthy, I’m not sure how an asparagus zucchini soufflé would go over as an appreciation gift.

I thought about a gift bag, but non-perishables are often high in empty calories. Still, a gift bag with a DVD and some chips and salsa sounds like a great gift.

Until I remember that most people don’t have DVD players any more – they download their movies from Netflix or use a cable subscription.

I’ve given a board game and included bags of microwave popcorn, but the last time I checked, the fat and calorie content in Orville Redenbacher’s movie theater popcorn was higher than the bag of cookies I was considering, so I had to rethink that idea.

Plus most young people haven’t a clue what a board game is all about – they don’t know one can play solitaire with a real deck of cards.

Besides, I’d have to explain the use of a deck of cards.

There’s always candles, but I haven’t a clue who’s allergic to the smell of dandelions or lilac. Plus candles can be considered dangerous because people forget they’re burning them while they’re trying to convince themselves that air-popped popcorn does taste just as good as the kettle corn.

Checking off the list in my head, I could give serving dishes as a gift. A nice serving tray always comes in handy.

But with two young boys, I don’t think Courtney wants to wash and dry a chip and dip tray. Most of us just rip open the bag, take the lid off the jar of dip and everybody dives in.

There’s picture frames, but nobody prints out pictures any more. They’re all online or in our phones.

I could go with a bottle of wine, but I don’t think they like wine. Besides, I don’t really know the difference between a pinot noir and a cabernet, so I’d probably make a huge mistake when trying to find something suitable.

I think I saw a wine-of-the-month truck cruising our neighborhood, so I’d probably be giving a gift they’d already bought.

So I’m back to Square one. Looks like a hand-written thank-you card, delivered in person, is the final answer.

But that sweet banana bread is calling my name.

Now where’d I put that recipe from my Aunt Vicky?

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald. 

Even though the temperature’s still in the upper 90s, Christmas decorations are filling store shelves.

From artificial green garland to the creepy Elf on the Shelf, retailers are hoping to get our money early and quickly.

Toy manufacturers already have their top Christmas lists for kids posted online so parents can start buying and hiding gifts in the backs of closets.

Some of the hot toys include Baby Shark Fingerlings, based on the hit song “Baby Shark” that filled the airwaves this summer. These are just in case you did not hit overload from hearing “Baby Shark” a thousand times.

Predictions are that Blume dolls will be the most collectible toy this holiday season. Kids sprinkle water on top of their heads and they grow. At least that’s better the gross game where kids pop a pretend pimple and watch it squirt out something gooey.

For the kid that loves the bizarre, there’s a Treasure X aliens toy where kids perform an alien autopsy on creatures and dig through slimy innards to get a mystery prize.

Doesn’t every parent want to see an autopsy kit underneath the Christmas tree?

Crayola has a sprinkle art shaker where kids can sprinkle glitter all over their art work. You can stop right there – anything that has glitter is a definite no for your home.

Yes, kids love it. Yes, it looks pretty cool. But glitter is impossible to sweep or vacuum up. Tell your children that toy is for Grandma’s house.

Play Doh is fun.

Play Doh is inexpensive.

Play Doh is impossible to get out of your carpet.

Sand Art kits look like a lot of fun. Until your child spills the sand – which they are guaranteed to do – and you’re stepping on a gritty floor for two weeks.

Manufacturers are trying their best to get parents to buy kits where kids can make their own bubble bombs, lip gloss and perfume. Children will spill all the ingredients for all these kits. Children will become upset when the lip gloss tastes like glue. They will also become upset when the perfume smells like a cardboard box.

Instead, spring for Mr. Bubble, Chap Stix and inexpensive floral sprays and save yourself the trouble of trying to create your own Chanel No. 5.

One toy that kids will love is a Doodle Bear where they can draw all over a cute Teddy bear. Sounds like a fun toy as long as you can convince your 4-year-old that the Doodle Bear is the only toy they can draw on.

Not the walls.

Not the bedspread.

Not each other.

Just the Doodle bear.

You can buy foam that looks just like ice cream.

Kids will eat it.

Kids will grind it into the carpet.

Kids will paint the wall with the foam.

So forget the foam and stock up on Blue Bell ice cream instead.

There’s a slow-motion race game where the slowest person wins. Somebody designed this game who was never picked to be on a sports team or still believes games where you don’t keep score are a reality.

Barbie turns 60 this year and she’s still a go-getter. Our favorite blonde is now getting a dream plane where she can fly all over the world. That goes along with her Barbie Jeep, Barbie Dream house, Barbie Boat, Barbie Scooter and Barbie Glam Pool.

I’d love to be Barbie.

Paw Patrol is still popular. Now they’ve added the Mighty Pups figures, so even though you have all of the original Paw Patrol figurines and accessories, you’ll need to buy the Mighty Pups figures for a complete set. These franchises never miss a beat.

One that’s bound to be a hit with the kids and a nightmare for parents is Carpool Karaoke – the Mic. All you need to complete the descent into insanity is for your kids to be singing “Baby Shark” in unison while you’re stuck in traffic as they act out the song with their Shark Fingerlings.

So go ahead, start planning your strategy for getting the hottest toy of the season early. Just be sure and leave the Play Doh to the unsuspecting. You’ve been warned.

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.

 

The U.S. Department of Labor states that Labor Day is a “yearly national tribute to the contributions workers have made to the strength, prosperity, and well-being of our country.” My son likes to joke that on a day we celebrate work, we don’t have to do it.

Labor Day should be a time we celebrate those workers who are often overlooked, but, without them, the wheels of progress would feel like they were running in mud. Here’s just a few of those sometimes slighted workers.

The Teenage Employee.  Most of us had an outside-the-house job when we were teens. We remember our first step into the adult world where we were paid for doing something, i.e., watching little kids.

For all of you who babysat back in the day, you deserve a medal. You watched other people’s children for 50 cents an hour and not only made sure they were alive when the parents got home, usually drunk, but you entertained them, cleaned up the house and washed the dishes without the benefit of late-night television. The only company you had after the kids went to bed was an AM radio station with a signal that faded in and out.

Today’s babysitters charge much more than two quarters an hour and they have 24-hour cable and Wi-Fi to keep them company. But the kids are still wild, the dishes still need to get finished and the parents are usually tipsy when they finally get home.

The Moms.  So much has been written about all the chores stay-at-home moms do without pay that it’s caused a decades-long war with moms who work outside the home.

Ladies, it’s time to bury that hatchet and never pick it up again.

Women who work outside the home have the heartache of dropping their children off for someone else to hug and play with all day long. Women who stay home know they’ll never have the earning power, promotions and raises moms who work outside the home rack up.

Both have a giant pile of mismatched socks in the laundry room, both feel guilty about the choice they made and both do their best to balance jobs and their sanity.

The Dads. Same goes for dads. Those who have high-powered jobs and those with low-paying jobs face the loss of being away from their families for most of the day because they’re earning the best they can under the circumstances.

Especially underappreciated are the non-custodial parents who pay child support and don’t get to spend daily time with their children. They don’t get to tuck their kids in at night or see them in the mornings, but they still write that check every month.

Those-who-will-not-be-named workers. These folks have the jobs few of us would want to have – Porta-Potty workers are at the top of my list right up there with plumbers. They crawl underneath houses, empty septic tanks and deal with the smelliest messes you can imagine.

The sanitation workers. I’ve followed along behind a garbage truck before, and I couldn’t believe all the physical work these guys put in every day no matter the temperature or weather conditions.

They lift heavy garbage cans over their heads and dump them into the back of a sometimes moving truck. Most people will weigh a garbage can down as heavy as they can because they only want to make one trip to the curb.

I’m guilty. I seldom stop and think about who has to lift that garbage can I stuffed to the top with heavy broken toys and out-of-date canned goods.

This list could be five times longer, so the next time you see someone doing a job you wouldn’t want to do, take a minute and thank those workers.

Happy Labor Day to all those who keep this country running. You are appreciated.

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald. 

 

 

I was getting prepped for a house cleaning session and decided to listen to something different while scrubbing.

Usually music’s playing, but I’ve listened to the same playlist for months and wanted to be entertained while cleaning the shower.

While scrolling through YouTube, I came across Sinbad the comedian. I immediately put him on, and laughed myself silly for the next 45 minutes.

Sinbad, also known as David Adkins, has made a career out of performing clean comedy, both on HBO and Comedy Central, and now on YouTube.

He’s had his troubles over the years, especially with not paying back taxes, but his sense of humor has stayed intact.

For instance, when you get older, you don’t want a young girlfriend. You want one that knows the signs of stroke.

Sinbad’s references to the 1970s pop culture are right on the money and hit home with those of us who loved Afros and bellbottoms. It’s a genuine pleasure to laugh down memory lane with Sinbad.

YouTube is a gold mine for up-and-coming comics. Gerry Brooks is an elementary-school principal who has on-the-money commentaries and “surgestions” for parents and teachers.

There’s a great series of things Southern women say, like “dern,” “how can I be out of hair spray,” and “bless her heart.”

I’m not quite sure why some young comics, like PewDiePie, are so popular, but they regularly rank up millions of views among teens.

Most comics got their start performing for family and friends, and most of us have one natural comic in our midst.

They’re the ones who make us chuckle in the midst of overflowing toilets, fender benders and cooking disasters. They ensure we know it’s okay to laugh at ourselves because the first laugh is always at themselves.

During a conversation with my friend Pat, I told her I couldn’t remember the last time I’d dusted the furniture.

“My living room looks like cocaine dealers live here,” she shot back, making me laugh and not feel so bad about being a rotten housekeeper.

Our brother Jeff has an incredible sense of humor. His blog, A Nerd’s Country Journal, included funny aspects of a self-described “techno-geek” living on a 100-acre Texas ranch.

One of his posts is legendary among family and friends – his detailed attempt at cooking a turkey, complete with a step-by-step narrative of just how wrong things could go.

My mom has a great sense of humor, and she’s the first one to laugh at some of the off-hand remarks she’s made over the years.

When I was having a tough day, she told me to keep all my chins up.

When I could tell she wasn’t listening to what I was telling her and wondered if we should have her checked, she put me in my place with a smile.

“I’m not senile. I’m just not that interested in everything you have to say,” she said.

Many years ago, our dad had a heart attack, and all of us were in the hospital waiting room, nervously waiting for the doctor.

My brother Joey picked up the pay phone, and I asked him who he was going to call since we were all there.

Without missing a beat, he said “Ghostbusters.”

All of us paused and then laughed until we had tears running down our faces. Joey gave us the relief we needed.

The next time you’re with the family jokester, make sure they know how valuable they are to the family.

They make fun of themselves, see the humor in the darkest of times and remind us that laughter is the best medicine.

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.   

If there’s one thing people love to gossip about, it’s conspiracy theories.

From who really killed President John F. Kennedy to wondering if Big Foot wanders the Pacific Northwest, conspiracy theorists never run out of wild accusations.

Some of the theories are almost laughable – a Yeti, or the Abominable Snowman, roams the high Himalaya Mountains. People claim to have seen giant footprints in the snow that could only be attributed to an ape-like creature.

There are practical ways to explain these tracks, but the theory that a giant blood-thirsty creature roams the cold tundra is a much more attractive story.

People believe nobody knows everything that’s alive on this planet, so who’s to say there’s not an Abominable Snowman pack or a Big Foot tribe.

There are some who believe mermaids exist. Conspiracy fanatics claim we only possess a sliver of information about what lives in the depths of the ocean.

Therefore, mermaids could exist.

Except it’s impossible for fish and humans to mate.

But people still believe.

For decades, people have believed a giant dinosaur swims in the bottom of Loch Ness. People have trolled those waters with modern sonar equipment and found nothing.

So what, they say.

Hunters aren’t looking hard enough, they say.

But let’s be practical –store, hotel owners and restaurant managers near Loch Ness know that thousands of people come to their tiny town and spend a lot of money looking for “Nessie.”

What’s not a conspiracy is tourist dollars.

When my son drove through New Mexico, he found himself in Roswell.

After all, it’s not unbelievable that an alien spacecraft crashed in the desert decades ago and the government’s kept it quiet. It’s also not unbelievable that so many people could make a living out of plastic trinkets and Area 51 bumper stickers and T-shirts.

There’s more — a research facility in Alaska is a front for a mind-control lab, mattress stores are fronts for money laundering, and there’s a giant bunker underneath the Denver International Airport. There’s also a machine that controls the weather and chem trails in the sky are marking all of us with tiny metal particles so the government can track us.

Scary is that a giant sinkhole in Louisiana will eventually devour everything from Texas to Florida. According to the BBC, the coast of Louisiana is slowly disappearing, so thinking there’s a giant sucking sound coming for us has a ring of truth.

There’s one I do believe:  the government shot down United Flight 93 on 9/11. Everyone knew that flight was headed to Washington D.C. and would’ve destroyed the White House or the Capitol.

Shooting it down, even though Americans were on the plane, is a sad and horrible reality to accept. But I saw the video of the crash site right after it happened, and it looked like someone took a bulldozer and quickly cleared away some grass. It sure didn’t look like a jet, filled with fuel, crashed and exploded.

The latest theory is the involvement of the alleged sex pervert Jeffrey Epstein. The billionaire was found dead in his jail cell this past weekend while awaiting trial on federal sex trafficking charges.

The conspiracy theories started immediately because the word was Epstein could reveal the names of politicians, businessmen and other influential rich people who’d raped and taken advantage of underage girls on an island he owned in the Caribbean or at his residences in two different states.

Epstein was supposed to be under heavy guard and constant watch, but somehow he managed to commit suicide before he started talking.

Conspiracy theorists believe he was left alone on purpose so he’d die and not reveal any names of the rich and powerful.

They could have a point.

There’s a reason why people are quick to shout conspiracy theories. They are entertaining. It’s also easier to blame something strange when something scares us. Once we know what’s behind the curtain, most of the fun’s gone out of the magic.

In the case of Epstein, however, hundreds of women who were tricked and defiled will never get to face the beast who exploited them. For a little while, they thought they might get the chance to have justice served.

And now, we’ll never know the truth even though there’s plenty of evidence to prove this conspiracy theory true.

Just don’t ask me to accept there’s alligators in the sewers.

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.  

 

It’s time to get back in the habit of getting up early. Summer break’s over and the 2019-20 school year is starting.

Most jobs don’t offer a “do-over.”

In the working world, usually the routine stays the same year after year.

Not in schools.

In August, children and teachers have the chance for a fresh start, change what didn’t work and keep what did.

There’s a few things to remember to keep the school year running smoothly, and let’s start with teachers.

If you’re only in that classroom to get a paycheck, get out. Retire. Quit. The kids can see right through your tired routine.

They only have one opportunity to be in the choir, learn about world history or experience life as a fifth grader.

Don’t ruin the experience and rob them of an education because you want one more year to pad your retirement check.

Do us all a favor and get out before the first day starts or change your attitude. Kids are counting on you.

Parents, know what’s going on in the school. All schools post events, grades and calendars online. Check those often, keep up and show up all the way to high school graduation.

Elementary open houses are a mad house, but often lonely halls on the high school level.

Those four years at the end of your child’s education are the last chance for you to actively be involved in your child’s life at a time when they’re deciding what to do as they step into the adult world.

Make sure they know you’re interested and involved.

If your child catches the bus, make sure they’re outside on time. If you drive them to school, pay attention to the drive-through lines and what the crossing guard tells you to do.

The lines are long, but they move quickly. Use that waiting time to sing a silly song together or give everyone some quiet time before the day begins.

Don’t start the day with a what-to-wear argument. Choose two outfits the night before, even if your child wears uniforms.

For kids, there is a big difference between the blue shirt and the red shirt. Put out two outfits before they go to bed and, in the morning, let them choose which one they want to wear.

Teens are old enough to make their own choices, but check their backpack and make sure that somewhat risqué T-shirt isn’t tucked down in the bottom. Yes, your kid will do that.

Make sure there’s a designated place and time for homework. That could be after dinner at one end of the kitchen table, but make sure your son or daughter understands homework gets done before goof-off time.

Everybody’s tired after a long day. But if you don’t make academics a priority, why should they.

Put down your cell phone and pay attention to your child. Those emails, Facebook posts and video games can wait. When you’re on your cell phone during family time, you’re telling them the phone is more important than they are.

I never thought I’d include knowing where to go in case of a school shooter and knowing the signs of a potential shooter would be on my back-to-school checklist.

But they are. Make sure your child knows it’s okay to report bizarre behavior, bullying in any form and to tell you if they feel uncomfortable or unsafe at school.

If your child does express concern, go to the school administrators and make sure the situation is handled early and promptly.

Most importantly, try to not miss the year. Yes, you have obligations, you’re exhausted and you need a break.

Forgive yourself if your best isn’t what you’d hoped and, just like as school starts over every year, every day is a chance to start over.

So pay attention and bravely face the hordes of frantic shoppers on the crowded back-to-school aisles.

You got this.

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald. 

 

 

 

 

Last week was my birthday. We held a quiet celebration at home because I deflected the attention.

Not because it was a milestone I’d rather not face.

Not because I don’t want to admit my age.

There’s no problem with admitting how old I am. I had no control over when I was born, so age doesn’t bother me.

Making my birthday public on social media fuels my paranoia. There’s no reason to willingly hand Big Brother too much personal information.

My grandson’s birthday is three days after mine, and his birthday is a big deal to him. So I decided to hype his birthday up and, as a result, slid mine into the background.

That was a choice I regretted. I should’ve made my birthday special the same way my mom did for every one of her seven children.

On our birthdays, she baked the cake we liked – white cake with chocolate icing for me – and made our favorite dinner – meatloaf and mashed potatoes were my choices.

After our grandchildren arrived, I started downplaying my birthday, thinking it was silly to celebrate “at my age.”

Everyone followed my lead to not make the day a big deal, so I got what I asked for. The day turned out to be just like every other summer day.

Honestly, I felt unimportant.

Later in the evening, I made a decision.

Forget downplaying my birthday.

Forget not wanting to call attention to myself.

Forget the silent martyr.

From now on, I’m going to celebrate whenever I can. Life’s filled with sad and tragic events. When the good things, both big and small, come along, we need to shout for joy and celebrate.

Celebrate: Getting out of bed in the morning. As a teen, getting up was torture. As an older citizen, getting up is still torture but mostly because my knees, ankles, thighs and back ache.

However, there are people who can’t get out of bed, so I need to stop whining and celebrate that I can put both feet on the floor all by myself every morning.

My family. When my boys were young, rambunctious and exhausting, I couldn’t wait for them to grow up and allow me to have some peace and quiet.

They’re grown, and the house is too quiet. There are times I’d trade everything for one afternoon of rocking my babies to sleep, reading them a bedtime story or listening to them and their friends play video games.

Celebrate your relatives. So many people don’t have the chance to see their families. Either their parents have passed away, live on the other side of the country or past misunderstandings have separated them.

Your parents will not live forever. Talk to them about their favorites growing up – songs, collections, musical groups, subjects in school. Just talk and listen. I’d love one more afternoon of talking with my grandparents or listening to my dad tell another corny Cajun joke.

Celebrate friends. At this end of the birthday spectrum, friends move away to begin a new chapter after retirement or, like me, become consumed with grandchildren or elderly parents. Many pass away, leaving us with regrets that we didn’t visit more often.

The key word is regret.

So from now on, jump in water puddles.

Play the radio loud and sing along.

Dance in the kitchen.

Take a chance.

Celebrate life.

Find a reason to laugh out loud.

And, most of all, celebrate your birthday.

Look out July 27, 2020. I’m comin’ for you, bells and whistles blazing.

 

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald. 

Time is measured in a variety of ways – a grandfather clock ticking away year after year in the front hallway, an Apple Watch that not only marks time but also records the wearer’s heartbeat, blood pressure and steps taken.

Then there are the subtle ways – our hair that slowly turns from solid auburn to silver or the wrinkles that weren’t there a few years ago but now define our faces.

This week, I realized a back yard marks the passage of time.

Growing up, we lived next door to my grandparents. Next to their house was the “big yard” where family gathered every Sunday afternoon for a fun game of wiffle ball.

Our uncles taught us the game and allowed us to score runs around the make-shift bases. We cousins have fabulous memories of those impromptu games, all played in the big yard.

I went back to visit as an adult, and the yard that once seemed gigantic was actually small.

Grass now covered the bases, and those cheers and laughter were merely specters in my memory.

When my boys were toddlers, our back yard was filled with Little Tykes and Playskool riding toys. Blow-up wading pools filled out the space in the summer until, the biggest big-kid gift of all, a swing set went up.

My boys didn’t realize what a treat it was to have a swing set in their back yard. Growing up, our back yard was only big enough for a clothes line and a small patch of grass.

Didn’t matter because we could go to Oak Leaf Park where there were a dozen swings and slides and, our favorite, the now-banished merry-go-round.

But our inexpensive metal swing set was the highlight of our young family’s life in the afternoons.

Our boys would try for hours to see if they could swing high enough to do a loop-the-loop over the top, back to where they started.

Afternoons were spent seeing who could jump off the swing and land the farthest away from the letting-go point.

But time passes, and we replaced the swing set with a wooden fort where adventures were created in the covered sand box underneath the floor of the fort.

A ladder allowed the boys to climb up onto an enclosed area where they’d pretend they were pirates or figuring out how they could catch the Easter Bunny and Santa Claus.

About the time they outgrew the fort, we added a trampoline. The boys found they could do front flips, back flips and land on their rears and bounce back up.

The trampoline was popular all the way through their teenage years because they’d sneak out onto the roof of the garage, jump on the trampoline and bounce into the pool.

But teenagers leave home for college and their own lives. We left the trampoline in the yard until the springs rusted, and we had to take it down. The fort was a gift to a young family that needed a place for their growing children.

Then our grandchildren arrived, and we realized we needed to start the process all over again. In went a swing set, complete with a slide and teeter-totter, and my husband happily weed-eated around the four poles.

For the past few months, the swing set sat unused because our grandchildren outgrew the swings and slide. This week, the disassembled set went to the recycling center, and my husband finished putting together a new trampoline this afternoon.

The back yard was once again filled with the laughter of children, and I realized what goes around comes around.

The pendulum came back to where we started so many years ago but, this time around, I’m going to enjoy every minute until our back yard is once again quiet.

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald. 

 

 

I am the daughter of a dreamer.
My father dreamed big, saw himself not only achieving his dreams but going beyond what even he could imagine. He lived his life in a grandiose way.
When I was a young girl, he drove a big white Cadillac. Those of us old enough to remember The Beatles will remember the Caddys with fins gracefully sweeping up the sides and chrome bumpers as big as a kitchen table.
These were not economical vehicles – the car stretched at least a half block when parked and probably got 10 miles to the gallon.
Didn’t matter to my dad.
“Driving that car means I made it,” he said.
Successful, big-shot salesmen only drove a Cadillac. The grander the fenders and bumpers, the better.
When his business failed, which most of them did, he never looked back. He simply picked himself up and moved on to the next venture, telling us this new one would be the big break, the big deal.
There was no step-by-step progress for him. It was always the giant deal that was going to make him rich and successful. Others might question his methods, but my dad never doubted himself.
He was livelier than the other fathers, funnier and a much better dancer than anyone else we knew.
He could charm everyone from grandmothers to little children, and his charming Cajun phrases flowed like honey, even more so when he’d had a few beers.
When I got older, I gradually realized not all of his dreams were going to come true. In fact, most of them would never be more than the words coming out of his mouth. Most of them left us further in the financial hole.
I resented him for those dreams.
And because I resented those dreams, I had few of my own. Over the years, I took the safe, cautious path.
But a person who lives life to the fullest is impossible to resist. My dad was that way and charmed all his grandchildren. Pops was fun, gregarious and they knew he loved them without reserve.
He taught them to laugh and to appreciate the little gifts in life, like the small river that ran through some property he owned. Along the sandy banks of that river, they were pirates and explorers, conquering the mighty waters.
It was easy to catch his enthusiasm and he never lost that zest for life, even when his own was confined to an oxygen tank and a motorized chair.
All his life, he never stopped believing that one day, he’d make it big.
I thought about his dreams when considering what I want to do with the rest of my life. I find myself facing the second half of my time on earth, retirement coming sooner than I thought it would arrive.
Avenues that stretched out endlessly before me are narrower and with a definite end.
When I reached this stage of my life, I thought dreams would be silly and pointless. After all, my dreams growing up were simple goals, not unrealistic scenarios where I’d be a seasoned traveler, a writer who moved people to laughter or a person in the community my sons would brag about.
But I’ve traveled to a few places, I think I’ve put a smile on a few faces through this column, and I’ve never been drunk in my life.
My dad’s bravery and willingness to gamble on himself sustained him through the darkest times, gave him a reason to get out of bed in the mornings and put a smile on his face when I have a feeling he wanted to cry.
So maybe, just maybe, it’s time for me to start dreaming.
My dad would say… it’s about time.

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.