Yesterday, I watched a car zoom across four lanes of traffic on I-10 at 65 miles an hour. All the cars around this selfish driver were slamming on their brakes as he exited without slowing down.

Curious, I wondered if there was a law about that kind of aggressive driving. When I got home, I started investigating, went down a rabbit hole and got hooked.

According to the Neal Davis Law firm, Texas Penal Code Section 48.02, it is against the law to sell human organs. You are, however, free to sell blood and hair.

I wonder if it’s against the law to auction off cellulite, wrinkles, crow’s feet and varicose veins. I’d be a millionaire if that was true.

Eating your neighbor’s garbage without permission can land you in jail for trespassing and property theft. Someone needs to alert the dogs down the street because they’re up to no good.

When my neighbor puts his garbage at the street in a plastic bag, those dogs rip it open in minutes. I wonder if they’d think twice if they knew their behavior was against the law.

I have a feeling they won’t care.

Those planning to commit a crime in Texas are required by law to provide their victims with 24 hours written or verbal notice.

The next time someone breaks into my car, smashing the windows and taking my belongings, I hope they got permission to do that. I’d hate to think they were violating the law.

This law had to be written by drunk legislators – while you don’t legally need a windshield to drive a car in Texas, it is illegal to drive without windshield wipers.

In Galveston, you can be fined $500 for sitting on the sidewalk. Please tell that to all the Mardi Gras revelers who sit down and count their beads while waiting for the next float to pass by.

Some of the dumb laws make sense. Don’t milk someone else’s cow. You can get fined up to $10. Back when milk was hovering around $5 a gallon, it might’ve been tempting to grab a bucket and look for old Bessie.

It’s illegal to drive your horse and buggy through a town square. I wish it was illegal to drive a car with the radio blaring through the middle of town.

It’s illegal to own encyclopedias because they contain a recipe to make homemade beer. These lawmakers better not look at a teenager’s cell phone.

The recipe to making a nuclear bomb is online, but let’s outlaw Encyclopedia Britannica. It’s the gateway to world destruction.

You can’t make a u-turn at any intersection in Richardson, Texas. That law would cripple Houstonians. I see people making U-turns at intersections, through the median, and occasionally in someone’s front yard.

In all fairness, we’re not the only state with strange and unusual laws. In Louisiana, you can’t tie an alligator to a fire hydrant. I guess it’s okay to tie one to a fence or the bumper of your car, just not a fire hydrant.

Many Texans think California is a weird place. They have some strange laws that back up that claim. In L.A., it’s against the law to lick a toad or wear a Zoot suit. There goes all the weekend fun.

Peacocks have the right of way to cross any California street, including driveways. Here in Texas, Longhorns and Aggies have that right.

You wonder who had the time to think up these laws. Then you wonder who listened to the pros and cons in the legislature. Then, the final head scratcher is who and how many voted these kinds of motions into actual laws.

The next time I’m in Louisiana, I’ll be on the lookout for alligators tied to fire hydrants. If I’m ever in California, I’ll need to resist licking any toads. That, not crossing over six lanes of traffic, is sure to land me in jail.

Go figure.

 

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald. 

When Sirius Radio offered a low rate last year, I took advantage and signed up. I like listening to books when I’m in the car, but music is always a first choice on the road.

Our granddaughters quickly found the Disney Channel, and that button stays pushed when they’re in the car. I love listening to them sing Disney tunes while we’re running errands.

Some of the comedy channels are too raunchy, and the spa music channels put me to sleep. There are four channels that stand out and I visit those most frequently.

There’s a hits from the 60s, 70s, 80s and the 90s, and they’re a stroll down memory lane. They’re not labeled “oldies but goodies,” so I don’t feel like a dinosaur when Neil Diamond starts singing “Song Sung Blue.”

These are songs from our high school years, and those tunes are some of the most meaningful in our lives. The teen-age years are when we’re finding out about love, friendship and life.

I’d forgotten how popular artists like John Denver, Stevie Wonder and the Osmonds were back then. They were young and full of life and sunshine, just like we were.

Their music was pretty simple – “isn’t she lovely” and “poems, prayers and promises.” We thought The Partridge Family’s David Cassidy was the best looking guy around, and Donny Osmond was the boy you’d bring home to meet your mom.

Those of us from this era will remember hearing John Denver’s pure vocals and deciding we all had to go to Colorado at least once in our lives.

Every generation thinks their songs are the best, and I’m no different. There were some songs from that time with deep meaning because we came on the cusp of the 60s.

I don’t think any generation can come close to the powerful lyrics of the hippie age. The first time I heard “War” by Edwin Starr, I was blown away. His deep baritone called for justice. The song is as angry and raw as it was 50 years ago.

Credence Clearwater Revival also sang out against the Vietnam War. “Fortunate Son” reverberates as an anti-war and class struggle anthem, and the lyrics still apply.

For those overwhelmed from the protests and the hippie movement, Simon and Garfunkle provided a safe place to land, especially with “Sounds of Silence” and “The Boxer.”

Aretha reminded a generation of women to expect respect and not settle for anything less. Carole King came along and told females it was okay to be a natural woman, free to pursue the arts instead of the perfect apple pie.

My sister and I agree that the 80s were a blur. We were having children that decade, and we mostly listened to Sesame Street songs. I switched over to country music about that time because the songs from my teenage years were now on the “golden oldies” channel. I wasn’t ready for that slide into geezer-hood.

My eldest boy hit the teenage years in the 90s, and I couldn’t get into the music he liked. Parents don’t usually agree with the music their teenager likes, and I was no different.

So he listened to Eminem, Green Day and Rage Against the Machine while I played songs from my day in my head.

One song stands out for me. “Desiderada,” written by Max Ehrmann, seems simple and cotton-candy sweet, but the words from that song helped my generation become a bit kinder.

The words rang true then and now – “Go placidly amid the noise and haste and remember what peace there may be in silence.”

Except in my car when I’m stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic because the hits from the 70’s are rocking.

 

   This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald. 

Sabrina looked in the mirror.

“Smile,” she told herself and groaned.

She looked like a model for a toothpaste commercial.

Try again.

“Smile,” she repeated.

It was no use.

There was no way she could pull off a winning smile when meeting Joel.

Sabrina pushed away from the antique mirror. She looked around her apartment. The space was cramped, no surprise for New York City, but she didn’t mind the tiny living quarters. The three rooms were much smaller than the house she’d shared with Joel, but she much preferred her cozy new home with a few of the art pieces she’d bargained for at her new job.

She sat down on the bed, pulling the comforter her grandmother made around her shoulders. Sabrina could feel the tears starting to roll down her cheeks.

“Stop it,” she told herself. “Smile.”

That command made her feel worse.

Sabrina stood up and went over to the window. The apartment might be tiny, but there were perks. The morning sun was filtered, thanks to the high rises above her. But she had a fabulous view of the sunrise every day.

Her view wasn’t what she’d had in California. She remembered the day Joel took her to a trendy neighborhood just outside of Los Angeles.

“Look at his bungalow,” he’d said. Joel, tall and confident, stood in front of a pale blue house. There were roses blooming in the front yard, and a short, white picket fence framed the scene.

“Get out of the car and come see this closer,” he’d demanded. Sabrina got out of the car and walked up to the fence. She had to admit, she’d never seen anything so charming, especially in California where plastic seemed to be the common denominator for the people and places.

“I rented it,” he said, pride in his voice. “I’ve come a long way from that dump in New York.”

Sabrina looked at him sharply.

“Without talking to me first?” she said. They’d only been married six months, but she was beginning to notice things about Joel she hadn’t seen before. When he presented her with an engagement ring, she was thrilled. Still, there was a tiny voice in her head whispering he hadn’t asked what kind of ring she wanted. Sabrina, a practical, no-nonsense woman, would’ve asked for matching bands. Instead, she got a garish engagement ring. It was cubic zirconium, but Joel made her promise not to tell anyone.

“Let them think your boyfriend’s on fire,” he’d said.

Joel’s job with an investment firm had suddenly taken them to California. Sabrina had to leave her job at a Soho auction house behind. When she complained that she didn’t want to go to California – the prices were too high, the weather was always the same – Joel had yanked her hair to turn her face to him.

“Smile,” he’d said. There wasn’t any humor in his voice. Just a command.

“I’m handing you the moon, and this is a golden opportunity for me,” he said. “Stop complaining and whining about getting your way. If it’s good for me, it’s good for us.”

He let go of her hair and tried to soften his voice.

“You’ll find a job out there,” he said, the malice still there. “They auction junk off in California just like they do in Soho.”

So here they were, standing in front of a house she should’ve immediately fallen in love with.

“Smile,” she told herself. “Joel’s a good provider. You can relax and let him take care of everything.”

And that’s exactly what she’d done for two years.

Sabrina bought a bathing suit, had her dark blonde hair highlighted, and, with Joel’s insistence, traded in her bright red reading glasses for contacts. Those were adjustments on the surface. She had trouble making friends, conversation about Botox, marital infidelities and refinishing antique furniture not to her taste.

She yearned to find someone to talk with about the influence of French writers, the significance of Susan Sontag and the meaning behind Paul Simon’s songs. But she put on a smile day after day, ignored Joel’s growing bullying and told herself she should be happy. She had everything her mother told her a woman would want.

“But not Grandma Noelle,” she said softly. Sabrina looked back at the quilt, went over to the bed and sat down. She pulled the quilt around her again, the soft cotton fabric taking her back to her childhood. Sabrina had watched Grandma Noelle make the quilt when Sabrina and her mother lived with the older woman in Natchez, Mississippi.

Sabrina would listen to her grandmother’s stories as Noelle stitched. In with the tales of growing up in the Mississippi country, Grandma Noelle gave her advice.

“Be sure and keep the bacon fat in a tin container,” she’d told her. “That comes in handy when you’re cooking green beans out of the garden. And always make sure you have some cornbread in the pantry. Fresh baked cornbread goes with everything from red beans to pork chops.”

Grandma Noelle also gave her advice about life.

“When things get bad, find something else to do. Get rid of what’s ailing you, put your shoulders back and smile,” she’d told her granddaughter.

Sabrina wondered what her grandmother would think of her now. A wrecked marriage, an entry-level job at an auction house and no man in her life. But she was living with few regrets.

Sabrina remembered the moment she decided to leave Joel. She’d gone to the farmer’s market that morning and purchased fresh vegetables, chicken and a bottle of wine. Feeling homesick, she’d stopped at the grocery store and bought a big can of Crisco. She filled a frying pan with the white lard, got it hot and deep fried the seasoned chicken, just as Grandma Noelle had taught her. When it came to the green beans, she opened the jar of bacon fat she’d bought at the store – yes, they sell that she marveled – and the smells brought her back to her childhood.

When Joel came in and saw the green beans smothered in fat and the fried chicken draining on a paper towel, he flew into a rage.

“I make all this money and you want to act like some country hick, fresh off the farm?” he’d yelled. “I’ve told you before what kind of life I had before I got this job. I’m not going back to being some hick where there’s no indoor plumbing.”

Sabrina was afraid. He’d yelled before, but he’d never been threatening. Joel’s face was red, and he threw his laptop across the room. Then he took the pan of green beans, walked over to the back door and threw the pan and beans out into the yard.

“That’s what I think of that crap,” he said. He turned and came over to Sabrina. He stopped right in front of her face.

“If you ever disgrace me again by thinking I’d eat that cracker food, you’ve got another thing coming,” he said softly. “Now you get that crap out of my house. The next time I come home, there better be something worth eating in this kitchen.”

Sabrina started to cry.

Joel slapped her across the face. She was stunned. He’d come close to hitting her before, but had never actually followed through.

“Stop that sniveling,” he said. “Smile. Your life is pretty damned good.”

He’d stormed out of the kitchen, and Sabrina quickly got rid of all the food she’d bought that day. She slept on the couch that night while Joel took the bedroom. Her grandmother’s words kept coming back to her – “find something better.”

After a pouting and sullen Joel went to work, Sabrina packed her clothes, toiletries, a few childhood photos and her grandmother’s quilt. She knew Joel kept cash in his shaving kit, so she cleaned that out.

“A thousand dollars might get me out of this awful state,” she thought.

Some women might leave right then, but Sabrina wasn’t that naïve. She transferred $5,000 from her and Joel’s joint account into a personal account she’d had for years. Shaky but knowing she was doing the right thing, Sabrina booked a ticket on a train from Los Angeles to New York, charging it to her old MasterCard. The website stated the train would take three days.

“That should be long enough for me to figure things out,” she thought to herself. As the train sped through the plains, deserts and mountains, Sabrina came up with a plan. She got off the train in New Mexico, threw away her cell phone and bought a new one, paying in cash. Before throwing the old phone in a sidewalk trash can, she checked her voice messages. Fifteen were from Joel. Most were threatening to take her to court over the money she’d stolen. He’d also sent at least 100 text messages threatening to find her, get the money out of her somehow, that she wasn’t worth the dirt on his shoes. Sabrina didn’t reply to any of them. Instead, she spent the rest of the trip online finding an apartment in her price range.

After she got to New York, Sabrina wasted no time lining up job interviews. A week later, she had a new job at an art auction house and ate fried chicken at least once a week.

Here it was, six months later, and Joel had found her. It was almost impossible for people to stay hidden in the modern age, she’d realized. When she came to work yesterday, her boss handed her an envelope.

“Some guy with a fake tan left this for you,” he’d said. Sabrina’s hands started shaking the minute she saw the handwriting on the envelope. It was from Joel. She tore open the envelope and read the short note: “Meet me at the coffee shop on the corner tomorrow at noon. You owe me.”

She didn’t sleep all night, wondering if she should show up or disappear again. But she remembered the words of her grandmother – cowards run away. She’d face Joel and get this over, once and for all.

So here she was, practicing her smile in the mirror.

“You need to be practicing your defensive tactics when he tries to hit you,” she told herself.

At noon, Sabrina walked into the coffee shop and saw Joel sitting at a table in the back. He was a handsome man, she had to admit. The California sun suited him as did the expensive casual clothes he was wearing.

She sat down and looked at him, not saying a word. He had a laptop case on the floor next to his chair.

“You did a good job at trying to hide, but I found you,” he said. Sabrina stayed quiet.

“Look, I’m good at knowing when to give up and when to keep going,” he continued. He looked at her like she was the trash he’d put out the night before.

“You’re really not worth the chase,” he said. “In the beginning, I was pretty pissed off. But in the end, it was worth the five grand to get rid of you. I’ll make that much and more in a week.”

He reached in the case and took out a folder. He slid it across the table. When she didn’t move, he opened the folder and put a pen down on top of a stack of papers in the folder.

“These are divorce papers. Sign where the yellow post-it notes are,” he said. “California makes it easy and simple. I’ll be free after you sign these. We’ll just call this what it was – a big mistake. I gave you the world and you spit in my face.”

He put two stacks of paper in front of her.

“One’s for me, one’s for you,” he said.

Sabrina took the pen, never looking at him. She knew she should’ve had a lawyer look at the papers but she didn’t want to have anything more to do with Joel. She glanced quickly through them, remembering California was a no-fault state when it came to divorce. She was also entitled to half of their assets. Joel, cunningly, had rented their bungalow and the cars so, on paper, it looked like they only had cash and their personal belongings.

She signed where indicated on both copies and put the pen down. Joel picked it up and signed where his name was listed. Then he slid one copy across the table to her.

“Now I’m free,” he said. “Now that I know where you work, my lawyer will send a final judgment to you there. All I can say now is good riddance to white trash.”

Sabrina didn’t say a word. Instead, she smiled. A genuine, true and honest smile. She picked up her papers, slid back her chair and walked out of the coffee shop, the smile never leaving her face.

dhadams1955@yahoo.com

Recently I’ve been spending some time around our two toddler grandsons.

Both are active little guys who find joy in their surroundings. Jack and Daniel smile all the time, give hugs freely and are getting to be friends.

We took care of one of them this morning, a definite plus for us. As I watched Jack play, I thought how beautifully toddlers have life figured out. Here’s what the 17-month-old taught me…

Don’t rush through life. Jack was walking through some leaves, and they were rustling beneath his sneakers.

He stopped, looked down and smiled. He turned around and walked through them a few more times, each time marveling at the sounds he was making.

So many times I rush through the day, never stopping to see the beauty right underneath my nose. Even though it’s winter, there’s a few patches of green grass trying to break through.

Some of the native flowers are still blooming, and butterflies are lighting on some of the blooms. I miss that most days, but Jack reminded me to stop and look around.

I made Jack breakfast, and it took him about 20 minutes to eat. He savored every bite of the scrambled eggs. He poked around at the sliced bananas and then ate them, one by one.

Most mornings, I’m wolfing down a toasted English muffin in my car or eating a bowl of cereal while reading the news. I can barely remember I ate anything an hour later.

Jack reminded me that food not only nourishes our body but it’s delicious if we’ll take the time to actually taste what we’re eating.

We went outside, and Jack picked up a kids shovel. He poked around in every patch of dirt we came across.

I guess he was looking for treasure, and he’s on to something. There’s often riches where we least expect to find them. All we have to do is slow down and dig around a little.

We walked past the bushes on the side of our house, and Jack saw a path our dog likes to take that weaves around the back of the bushes. Jack stopped, looked, and then followed the path a little ways.

As I watched him venture into the unknown, I marveled at his bravery. Who knows what we’ll discover if we take a new path. Who knows what adventures lie ahead by the rose bush or behind the boxwood plant?

Jack didn’t know, but he was willing to try and find out.

Later we went to the mall, and he saw the carousel. Jack absolutely loves riding the carousel, and he sat on the horse a good five minutes before his mom caught up with us.

He wasn’t anxious – he simply sat there, looking around, knowing the ride would start soon. He was watching what was going on around him.

Sheepishly, I realized I hadn’t noticed anything. Once I followed what Jack was doing, I noticed families sitting together, eating burgers and fries.

Friends were talking a mile a minute at another table, and an older couple was enjoying a smoothie as they sat in comfortable silence.

After the second carousel ride, Jack wasn’t happy to get off the horse, and I couldn’t blame him. Up there, he was on top of the world, free to ride into the wind, with his mom beside him in case anything went wrong.

Daniel is a little younger and he’s exploring the world one step at a time. Dogs are furry friends, siblings will carry you where you want to go but, sometimes, make sure you’re following them.

So what have I learned from them?

When you’re surrounded by people who love you, there’s no limit as to what you can accomplish. If you’re alone, taking steps into the world requires bravery and curiosity.

As young as they are, they know to go for the gusto.

Grab the ring on the carousel ride.

Splash in a water puddle.

I’m going to see what’s ahead on paths I’ve overlooked, opportunities that were right in front of me.

Thanks boys for showing me the way.

 

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald. 

McDonald’s rolled out a new ad campaign to entice adults back under the Golden Arches – adult Happy Meals.

Many of us remember Happy Meals as a burger and fries we picked up for the kids on the way to soccer practice.

The prizes back then were fun. We still have the Batman drinking glasses as well as the Hamburgler and Ronald McDonald Christmas ornaments.

The adult Happy Meal “McNugget Buddies” are figurines that sit on someone’s desk. Not something collectible like the year they gave out Hot Wheels, but the meal choice is something only McDonald’s could offer – a Big Mac.

Normally we’d swear off the 500-plus calorie double-meat burger, but it’s a Happy Meal – surely the calories don’t count.

There’s a few more things I’d love to see make their way from the kid realm to the adult universe.

Cotton Candy. I remember watching the carnival barker swirl pink strands of cotton candy onto a white paper cone, finishing with a flourish, and then handing over a stick of pure sugar.

The cotton candy would immediately melt on our tongues. We’d run off the sugar high at the park on merry-go-rounds with no safety harnesses and metal slides with no side rails.

I’d love to have calorie-free cotton candy in tropical flavors, the cotton candy swirled as high as Dolly Parton’s hair. As a plus, I’d like to be able to eat the whole thing without judgment or embarrassment.

Parks for adults would also be something fun. Imagine a tall wide slide – most of us have put on a few pounds since elementary school.

At the end, instead of landing in a pile of dirt or sand, we’d land in a pile of foam pillows where we could relax as long as we wanted.

I love the kid’s meal at the movie theater. When my boys were young, we’d go to the cinema on 50-cent Tuesdays. They’d get a snack box for a dollar with popcorn, a sugary drink and a bag of M&Ms.

I wish I could go to the movies, still on 50-cent Tuesdays, and get that just-right size of snacks for the movie instead of $17.50 for a small box of popcorn and a diet Coke.

Adults have museums, and they’re filled with treasures from the past, present and the future. We walk quietly through, read the signs, and feel smarter when we leave.

I wish I could go to a museum where we could play with water cannons, pet starfish without pretending we were helping the kids, and talk as loudly as we wanted.

The exhibits would be colorful and loud. Picture a room with all the hits from The Beatles, their music blaring while psychedelic colors flashed on the walls.

There’s also be a room with John Denver, Marvin Gaye, and Carol King tunes playing while we relaxed on overstuffed pillows and snuggled up with soft, worn comforters.

Some of us might enjoy a dress-up museum where we could try on gowns from the 1940s, with chiffon, beads and satin swirling around us just like Ginger Rogers wore in all those movies with Fred Astaire.

Still others might love a museum where they drove loud four-wheelers through mud without a care in the world. The last stop of that museum would be a steam and sauna room where the mud was washed off as well as our cares and worries.

I’m glad McDonalds is trying to take us back to the past. Now if they can just find a way to make that Big Mac 90 calories instead of 563, life would be fantastic.

 

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald. 

Although Christmas Day has come and gone, some of us believe the spirit of giving is one that should last all year. There’s no need to try and hurry the holidays.

Besides, with all the effort involved with decorating the house, hanging lights and cooking and baking desserts. Plus there’s all that time involved in buying and wrapping gifts. For all that work, we should take a few days to savor the holiday for as long as we can.

That’s a nice way to tell our readers that the annual Bob Haenel “It’s a Wonderful Life” quiz column has arrived, although a few days late.

It’s a tradition in this newspaper to run Bob’s “It’s a Wonderful Life” quiz, and we didn’t want readers to be disappointed. Both Bob and I count IAWL among our top five movies of all time, and no Christmas goes by without our watching the film at least once.

In the movie, George Bailey learns that “no man is a failure who has friends.” Bob and I have been colleagues and friends for over 25 years. What we know for sure is echoed in this movie. Life’s journey is filled with sadness and hardship.

It’s also filled with joy, love, friends and family. As we head into a new year, Bob and Denise and Rick and I hope you always remember, just as George Bailey learned:  all in all, it’s a wonderful life.

——————————————————————-

The quiz is in two parts. The first section is for those who’ve seen the movie a couple of times. The second part is for those who can recite the dialogue by heart. Answers are at the bottom of each section. Good luck and happy new year!

1. In which ear did George Bailey lose his hearing and how did it happen?
2. What does George use to make a wish for a million dollars?
3. What is Clarence’s full name and rank?
4. What’s the name of the cab driver in IAWL?
5. What’s the name of the policeman in IAWL?
6. Who owned the drugstore in Bedford Falls?
7. What book did Clarence carry with him?
8. What was the name of Mary’s older brother?
9. What did Mr. Gower’s son die from?
10. What was Mr. Gower’s son’s name?
11. What classification was George during WWII?
12. What song was Janie practicing for the party?
13. At the beginning of the movie, why can’t Clarence see what’s happening on Earth?
14. What was Clarence’s occupation when he was alive?

Answers

1. Left ear. George saved his brother, Harry, from drowning.
2. A cigar lighter in Mr. Gower’s drug store and soda shop.
3. Clarence Odbody, Angel Second Class
4. Bert (cab driver)
5. Ernie (policeman)
6. Gower
7. “The Adventures of Tom Sawyer”
8. Marty
9. Robert
10. 4F
11. “Hark the Herald Angels Sing”
12. He hasn’t gotten his wings yet
13. Clockmaker

1. It’s easy to Google the answers to the following hard questions but see if you can get them without the aid of the internet.

1. What time did the Savings and Loan close on Black Friday?
2. What is the address of George and Mary’s house?
3. Besides the children, what else did George and Mary take with them in the car to the Martini’s new house?
4. How many years of employment was the contract Mr. Potter offered George?
5. How much money was the Savings and Loan short at the beginning of the movie?
6. How much money did George and Mary receive for their honeymoon?
7. How much money did Uncle Billy misplace?
8. What was ZuZu’s teacher’s name?
9. What movie was playing at the theater in Bedford Falls after George had his experience with Clarence
10. George wears two hats in the movie. One when he’s young and one when he’s a man. Name the style of those hats.
11. What kind of sundae did a young Mary Bailey order at the drugstore? Did she want coconut on top?
12. At the school dance, Harry was chairman of what committee?
13. Who was Violet’s partner in the Charleston dance competition?
14. What was one of Sam’s nicknames for George?
15. How much time did Clarence have to get ready to meet with George?
16. How long has Clarence been waiting to get his wings?
17. In George’s real life, what was the name of the bar in Bedford Falls?

The hard answers:

1. 6 p.m.
2. 320 Sycamore Street
3. A goat
4. Three years
5. $5,000
6. $2,000
7. $8,000
8. Welch
9. “The Bells of St. Mary”
10. Cub Scout cap when he’s a young boy and a Fedora when he’s a man
11. No.
12. The Eats Committee
13. Sam Wainwright
14. “Ole Mossback George”
15. One hour
16. 200 years
17. Martini’s – bonus – it was Nick’s during the time when George saw what life was like without him.

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald. 

This year, it seems the Christmas holidays are being celebrated in grand fashion.

Homes that never put up decorations have their yards lit up from the curb to the front door.

Stores and malls have always trotted out beautiful Christmas displays, but they’ve stepped up their game. Tinsel, garland and ribbons are on every available wall and corridor.

Entire neighborhoods have gotten into the act. You’ll seldom find a subdivision entrance that doesn’t have a giant wreath or oversized garland hanging from the sign.

The radio has long played Christmas songs 24 hours a day in December. This year, one station started in the middle of November, and I’ve tuned in every day.

While I love those Christmas songs, there are some that make no sense to Southerners or those under the age of 50.

“Sleigh bells ring…” is an odd one for us. I wasn’t exactly sure what a sleigh was until I saw one in a child’s Christmas book.

“Dashing through the snow” is a mystery for most Southerners. A ride through the hay fields on a John Deere tractor is much more familiar.

“Winter Wonderland” means something entirely different to Southerners than it does to those who live in the North.

Their winter wonderland is probably snow-covered streets, children walking in boots and coats, throwing snowballs at each other along the way.

Our winter wonderland is walking around in our flip flops and shorts because our wonderland is 72 degrees.

We’re not building snowmen in the meadow and calling him Farmer John. If you are in a meadow, there’s usually cows. There’s one smelly thing you could use to build a snowman. I won’t go into detail.

We do hear silver bells ringing, but it’s the people in Santa hats outside stores collecting for the Salvation Army. The only other bells we hear are the chimes on our phones letting us know we have a text message.

“Deck the Halls” has some of the most obscure lyrics of all the holiday tunes. I haven’t a clue what “troll the ancient Yuletide carol means,” and the Yuletide treasure isn’t winning $10 on a scratch-off lottery ticket.

Nat King Cole sings one of the best holiday songs of all time, but none of us have ever seen or will see “chestnuts roasting on an open fire.”

That’s because a non-native fungus wiped out almost all of the American chestnut trees by 1950.

“Do You Hear What I Hear” means something different in the city these days. The sounds I hear are people’s car alarms binging so people can find where they parked.

I’m hearing lawn mowers and leaf blowers because the grass grows year round in the South. Our winter days often top out at 80 degrees and our lawns keep growing because the grass thinks it’s already spring.

Bing Crosby might be dreaming of a “White Christmas” but I’m dreaming of a green Christmas because snow in the South is a nightmare.

We don’t know how to drive in the snow, and our cars aren’t equipped with snow tires. We go into a panicked hibernation when we think there’s a possibility of frost and freezing.

I will agree with one song – “It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year.” That is, of course, if you overlook the massive traffic jams around shopping areas, the frustration associated with finding the right gift for everybody on your list and the high price of almost everything.

Despite the headaches, long lines in the stores and not understanding the lyrics to Christmas songs, this is still a joyous season.

I hope you enjoy your Christmas and, in the words of Tiny Tim, “God bless us, every one.”

 

 This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.     

It’s the holidays, and people are attending parties and socializing. For parents with young children, going out means someone has to watch the little ones.

Some are lucky enough to live close by a relative who’s happy to watch the kiddos. Usually there’s a give-and-take arrangement – you watch mine this time, I’ll watch yours the next.

Others have an older sibling who can watch the younger ones. That was the case in our house. I was the oldest, and many times I babysat my brothers and sisters.

I like to think I was a benevolent, kind babysitter who let them watch hours of television and do whatever they wanted. The truth is I was probably a ruthless dictator.

They’d have been better off with a drill sergeant.

Many weekends, I babysit for other families for the sum of 50 cents an hour. It didn’t matter how many kids I babysat, the price was always the same.

Most of the parents I sat for came home at a reasonable hour which was great because all the television stations went off the air at midnight. There wasn’t any cable, streaming services, VCRs or DVD players.

There was no Sirius radio or an FM station on the air. The only radio signal was from an AM station. After the sun went down, their signal got weaker, so it was hard to find something to do after the kiddos were sleeping.

After hearing “The Star Spangled Banner,” while the American flag waved on the screen, it was tough to stay awake.

After going to school all day, those parents who stayed out until two in the morning usually found me sleeping on the couch.

My husband and I didn’t have family near us after we moved to Texas and we had to pay babysitters. We usually used the older sister or brother of one of our son’s friends. That worked for a while until the word got around that our boys were a bit harder to control.

Luckily, we found Vanessa. She was a calm, mature, wonderful teenager who handled the boys better than I did. We paid Vanessa double her asking price because we knew she was worth every penny.

When Vanessa went off to college, I hired the oldest son of one of our friends. He was on the football team, and the boys enjoyed throwing the football in the back yard and shooting hoops with him.

Best of all, he was three feet taller than they were and outweighed them by 100 pounds. The boys were a bit intimidated. We were relieved.

These days, the qualifications for a babysitter are a lot higher. Parents want babysitters to be Red Cross certified. They want the sitter to know CPR and how to handle any type of emergency.

Some of the other requirements include helping with homework and knowing how to engage the children in fun learning activities. Knowing a second language is a bonus.

The price has gone up – good babysitters can now command anywhere from $10 to $30 an hour.

That sure makes staying home, watching a streaming service and popping your own popcorn in the microwave a lot more appealing for parents.

Put the kiddos to bed, sit back in the recliner in your pajamas and enjoy the evening for a lot less money than you’d pay a teenager or owe your sister-in-law an evening of watching your kids and hers.

Babysitting taught me a lot.

Kids can be holy terrors.

Kids can be sweet, as long as they’re open to bribes.

And when I got to be a parent, I’d tip the babysitter at least twice what he or she asked for.

They would earn it.

I know I did.

 

 This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald. 

One night this week, my grandson and I were rushing out of the store.

We were on our way to his orchestra concert, and we had a bit of last-minute shopping to do.

The slim bit of time after school and before the concert was our only opening.

I knew he was hungry because I picked him up straight from wrestling practice. He said he wasn’t hungry, but I’ve yet to meet a teenage boy who’s not hungry 24 hours a day.

While I was checking out, I told him to go over to the pizza counter near the check-out lane. He could pick up a small, already baked pizza while I paid for our items. A lady was in front of him, and she got the last two pizzas.

He looked disappointed.

“It’ll be about 20 minutes,” my grandson said. We didn’t have that much time, so we left. I hoped there would be snacks for sale at the concert that could hold him over until he got home.

As we were walking to our car, the lady who’d been in front of my grandson in the pizza line hurried up to us.

“I want you to have these pizzas,” she said, trying to hand a plastic bag to me.

“Oh, I couldn’t take those – they’re yours,” I said, pulling back a bit.

She leaned closer and thrust the bag forward.

“God was telling me to pass on some kindness this evening,” she said with a gentle smile. “I don’t need this pizza but I think your grandson could use it. Please take it.”

Speechless, I took the bag, but quickly regained my voice.

“This is so kind of you,” I said, reaching into my purse. “Please let me pay you for them.”

She backed away.

“I couldn’t take money because this is a God thing,” she said. “Taking any money would be wrong. We’re called to pass on goodness in this world. I’m just answering that call.”

And with that, she turned and sprinted away.

My grandson and I just stood there, looking at each other, not believing what had just happened. When we got in the car, my grandson dove into the pizza. The lady was right – he’d been hungry.

We couldn’t stop talking about this random act of kindness given by a stranger. She didn’t know us, we were a different race, and she asked for nothing in return.

Cynics might have thought something was wrong with the food, but that thought never crossed our mind. All we thought about was how generous this nice lady was to two strangers.

Her kindness made us realize we should perform small kindnesses more often. She made our day more than she could possibly know, because we needed more than two individual pan pizzas that night.

We needed to know that there are people out there who care.

We needed to know there are people who notice when someone else is in need.

We needed to remember there are people who make the decision to think of someone else before themselves.

We needed to remember there are people who will give what they have so others won’t go hungry.

And, most of all, we needed to remember there are people who can restore our faith in humanity by a simple act of kindness.

Thank you, kind and generous stranger, for restoring our faith in people. That’s the best Christmas gift we could hope to receive.

 

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald

“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.