Mom

The following is the eulogy that I gave at Mother's funeral yesterday. I thought that I'd share it with you so that you could get a sense of who she was.

Thank you for coming today to celebrate the life of Lemine Louise Massingill Stephens. She was born in Comanche County, Texas on November 29, 1924 to Johnie Marie Tally Massingill and William Lemma “Lemmie” Massingill both of whom are deceased.

On December 21, 1940, she married J. Wayland Stephens in Comanche, Texas. She passed away on Friday, March 28, 2008 at the age of 83.

She was preceded in death by her parents, her husband, and two grandsons, Joni Lynn Stephens and Shannon Chad Stephens.

Lemine had four children, all of whom survive her: Gayland Jay Stephens and his wife, Ella Faye of Hamilton; Rickie Don Stephens, and his wife, Gloria, of Comanche; Brenda Gail Stephens Andrews, and her husband, Kenneth of Hamilton; and Karen Kay Stephens Price and Rick Price of Gatesville.

Her grandchildren are Jana O’Neal and husband, Randy, of Weatherford; Dana Chancellor and husband, Tommy, of College Station; Dr. Tonya Stephens and fiancée, Dave Cyplik, of Ocala, Florida; Brett Stephens and fiancée, Elizabeth Sanderson, of Early; Dr. Rena Dunahoo and husband, Nick, of Lake Belton; Britney Aaron and husband, J. P., of Cranfills Gap; Chad Andrews of Texas A & M; Whitney Posey, Lexi Price and Nick Price, all of Gatesville, Tyler Price of Corpus Christi, Coltyn Price of Graham, and Tierra Campbell of Waco.

In addition, she has seven great-grandchildren: Riley O’Neal, Jaret O’Neal, Layton Chancellor, Aaron Chancellor, Addison Dunahoo, John Simon Waller and Cooper Waller.

She lived almost her entire life in Comanche and Hamilton Counties within a twenty mile stretch. However, there was a period of time during World War II, when she lived in Kilgore, Texas while Dad was stationed at Camp Fannin.

During her lifetime, she worked as a telephone operator, as a clerk at Garner-Alvis Department Store, a seamstress, a cook, and as a sitter for those with Alzheimer’s, including my mother-in-law.

She was named after her father, Lemmie, but she never particularly liked her name. . . Lemine Louise. She said it was too unusual. People couldn’t remember it. So, her old friends, obligingly called her “Meenie”.

As with most people, she passed through stages. Whenever we were little, she made us feel safe and secure. She was the person we ran to for comfort and solace. She was our rock. Mom’s life was one of curves and challenges that she could not anticipate. Yet, she somehow managed to cope with them and become an inspiration to us all.

Mother was a cowgirl at heart. As a child, she developed a love for horses. She rode her little horse, Old Short, the three or so miles to and from Lamkin to school from her home place north of Lamkin. She told us stories about how she would cut a green switch to work him over if he needed it. She instilled in us her love for horses. She taught us how to ride and reminded us that a horse was part of our legacy. Mom said that our grandfathers and great grandfathers were as good a horsemen as there ever were and that we should respect their legacy enough to learn the skills of horsemanship. It thrilled her when she learned that Brett was breaking and training horses.

Mom loved rodeos, too, especially bull riding. When she got to where she couldn’t go to them in person, she’d watch them on TV.

Another of Mom’s great loves was fiddle music. Her daddy, Papa Lemmie, was a fiddler. On Saturday nights, he’d join with other local musicians for home-made dances. The ladies would prepare their best dishes and the adults would dance while the kids played outside.

Her love of fiddle music probably was the reason she loved to dance. She and Dad would take us to dances when we were teens. She’d say “You’re here to dance. When you quit dancin’, we’ll go home.” All our friends loved being around her. As she got older, she continued to dance by going to the Senior Citizen dances where she was an equal opportunity dancer – she’d dance with men . . . or women, just so long as she got to dance.

Mother made do with what she had. She raised chickens and maintained a garden. Her meals were made from what she grew. She was creative, too. She’d make vinegar pies when she didn’t have fruit. We’d eat wienies and gravy at the end of the month.

On her washing days, she’d saddle up Papoose, our horse, and put me on him. After swatting him on the rear, she’d watch to see which way he went. If he took off to the left, she knew he’d take me to Harrison Ellenburg’s barn where he’d eat oats. If he took off to the right, we’d be headed to the tall green grass over Euel Eddleman’s septic tank. She’d simply call them and tell them to send me back home when she had finished her washing.

She met adversity head on. When she was thirty-nine, she thought she had a cancerous tumor. So she braced herself for the news from the doctor. It was Karen.

Mom enjoyed watching Rick and Gayland, “the boys” as she called them, play football. She never missed a single high school game. In fact, she had Karen on a Sunday and went to Gayland’s football game in Comanche that next Friday.

Mom attended our school plays. Her favorite was the Rick’s fifth grade play when he was “Hoss Cartwright”. She made costumes, helped with classroom parties and school festivities, taught Bible school, and took us to church.

Mom valued education and encouraged each of us to go to college or gain some sort of self-sustaining skill. She was so proud of her children and grandchildren and their accomplishments.

Mom was not a high maintenance woman. She liked things simple. She didn’t wear much jewelry; she didn’t much like ruffly clothes; she didn’t wear colognes.

However, Mom was a woman of strong opinions about some things. . . she did not like blue (she always told us that if we buried her in blue, she’d come back to get us). . . she hated collars. . . she didn’t like chicken no matter how it was prepared. That was as a result of eating so much of it during the “chicken raising” years.

She wasn’t complicated either. If she liked you, she liked you. If she didn’t, she didn’t. There was little doubt to which category you fit.

She found an unusual strength within following her second surgery. In the recovery room, she quipped that “now I’m the same height as Kenneth Dale.”

She said that once she “got back on her feet” (so to speak) that she could pursue a new vocation: base-board painting.

Once becoming a patient, she appointed herself the assistant nursing home administrator and assistant director of nurses at Hamilton Healthcare Center. She felt it was her duty to help the personnel with the “old” people who resided there. Many of the nurses and aides bonded with her and would spar verbally with her which was something that made her days more tolerable.

She was a high-tech grandmother. After losing her legs, the television and the cell phone were her links to the outside. She talked to her special friends, Darlene and Frankie Nell, daily and just “listened” to Karen. She could discuss with us what was going on in the world at any time because she watched the news. She was an avid sports fan, too. She followed the Dallas Cowboys and the Mavericks.

We’d go for rides together. On our outings, we’d sometimes go out to Lamkin and Gentrys Mill and Carlton to see how things had changed where she grew up. Within the past few years, Mom required that we check on the Circle T Arena’s building progress. It became her project. She thought it was a great asset to our community. Whenever the arena manager allowed us to drive inside so that she could see it, she was in awe. That’s all she talked about for weeks.

Although I’d offer her alternatives, she always wanted to go by Chicken Express to get a 5-piece catfish meal with two sides – cole slaw and corn nuggets. We’d go to a park somewhere and she’d eat every bite. While we were out, we’d pick up some Dollar store pickles, tomatoes, and Doritos to take back to the nursing home.

A while back, someone mentioned that my mother was the most optimistic person she’d ever known. She continued by relating a story that her daughter had told her. Her daughter had taken communion to Mother at the nursing home and had observed that mother was upbeat and light-hearted and required the same from those around her.

She said that if anyone in the home had any reason to be down or angry, that it would be Mother given her condition. Yet, time and again, she held a positive outlook. She handled life from then on with a lot of humor. Her demeanor served as inspiration to us all.

She was well-known by the hospital employees and doctors who marveled at how she would recover from her hospitalizations. They often referred to her “nine lives”.

Both the nursing home and the hospital were exceptionally good to her and spoiled her rotten and the family and Mom appreciate their work.

When preparing her eulogy, I asked for adjectives that described mother. Some of those adjectives included: positive outlook, big-hearted, bossy, determined, feisty, independent, jokester, jovial, a kidder, opinionated, a pill, set in her ways, spunky, strong-willed and sassy, tough and witty. Each one of these words could adequately be used.

When you think about it, the adjectives used to describe mother’s personality also describe her children. We have come to realize that the apples don’t fall far from the tree.

As we grew older, she knew that we must become self-sufficient. Mom was an only child and Dad was an only child. That meant that the four of us had no aunts, uncles, nor first cousins. Because of that, they knew that they must give us both roots and wings because we would only have each other to rely on once they were gone

To her grandchildren, she was Nonnie, and she loved them very much. They could do a lot worse than using her life’s example as an inspiration.

Last night, there was a lot of laughter at visitation. In our family, there’s always a story. We heard many more last night that we can pass along. Thank you for sharing in Mom’s special day with us. She’d be so pleased.

"A friend loveth at all times." Proverbs 17:17

Decisions

Lots of people think that I am bossy and controlling. In my classroom, I would say that is probably accurate. However, outside the classroom and at home, I am different.

Ask my husband about his honey-do list and he’ll tell you that he doesn’t have one. He hardly ever has had one. Only when our schedule is impossibly crowded do I ask him for help. That’s not to say that he doesn’t help out, because he does. He takes initiative to do lots of tasks, but not because I ask or demand it.

I think it is important for people to make their own decisions based upon accurate information. I don’t mind helping obtain that information, but I don’t want anyone to make a wrong decision because I’ve skewed it.

In addition, believe it or not, I am not in charge of my social calendar. I learned early in our thirty-one year marriage that if I made plans in advance, that they would probably be changed. So, my husband and my children make our social plans. They are usually tentative and always last minute, but never-the-less they are plans. When asked, I usually let them know my preferences, but I don’t make final decisions.

They learned that when the decision is left to me, they won’t like it. For instance, when we used to go to Waco to shop or visit, I’d ask where they wanted to eat. Always, the reply was, “I don’t care.” They didn’t want to make the decision for fear of not pleasing the others. It may sound abnormal that they weren’t selfish kids who insisted on their own way, but being selfish was not their nature.

They were like the vultures perched on the limb in The Jungle Book. They would say, “What do you wanna do?”

“I dunno, what do you wanna do?”

“I don’t care, you decide.”

“No, you.”

Whenever that would happen, then I’d finally choose. . . Catfish King. Oh, the complaining I’d hear. Although they loved the food, we were always the only people in the restaurant without gray hair. So, they learned that they had to make decisions and not leave it to me because they’d have to live with mine and they wouldn’t like them.

Decision-making remains a dilemma for our family. Don’t misunderstand. The big decisions seem much easier to make. It’s only decisions that are relatively meaningless that remain a problem. It’s the “whatcha wanna do?” decisions that cause the most stress.

"A friend loveth at all times." Proverbs 17:17

Re-run

I hate red tape. Yesterday, I told you that I was going for my infusion. Well, I did, but I didn't get it. When the nurse that gives me the infusion opened the package, there were only 3 vials of medicine, not the prescribed 13 vials.

To make a very long story short, I contacted the online pharmaceutical company that shipped it to me and they said that it was dispensed as prescribed and that it was the nurse's fault who ordered it for my doctor. When I approached the nurse, she, of course, said it was the pharmaceutical company's fault. You know, the fingers were pointing at each other.

So, even though a nurse called and presumably straightened it out, it is still very inconvenient. I took off from work for half a day and drove the 80 mile round trip to get it.

Needless to say, I will have to wait several days for my infusion which means that I will feel worse and worse and I'll hurt more and more before I get better. I spoke to the head of the ACS unit today and she is a doll. She said that as soon as I got it delivered to my house, to call her and she'd see that I got the infusion immediately.

The big issue is that I might not feel better by the time of Jana's wedding on Saturday. I surely hope that I do. I've been looking forward to her big day for several months.

Keep me in your prayers. I will need them and so will those around me.

"A friend loveth at all times." Proverbs 17:17

Re-fueled

Today is my infusion day again. I am going to get re-fueled with "liquid gold" at Needles 'R Us. It's even more expensive than our current gasoline prices. I can tell that it is time. Although I am not nearly as sick as I sometimes am, I am getting tired and having some pain. I'll be back good as new in a day or two.

I spoke with my nurse this morning and she has everything all set up for me. I always look forward to visiting with the ACS girls. They make me laugh.

"A friend loveth at all times." Proverbs 17:17

We hurt

We hurt when our children hurt. My son e-mailed me this morning to tell me that one of his good friends at college had been killed in an automobile accident. At the time, he didn't have any details on the accident or other arrangements.

He said she was from Tyler and that her dad was a minister. He said that she was such a good friend. He said, "I absolutely loved and adored her. It really hit home. She was amazing. I played 'Sorry' with her almost every night and watched 'So You Think You Can Dance'. She offered me many great pieces of advice. I will truly miss her. Please pray for her family as well."

"I just never knew how close it could hit home. When dad says be careful I'm usually like 'Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever'.... now I truly understand."

Please keep him and his friends and her family in your prayers as they face this difficult time.

"A friend loveth at all times." Proverbs 17:17

Patience

Whenever I was younger, I had very little patience. . . for anything. Like your typical adolescent I wanted things quickly. I didn’t want to have to wait.

As I grew in my career, I had to learn patience. My first full-time teaching assignment was in the secondary Migrant program. Those students moved from district to district throughout the year. I had to diagnose and analyze the gaps in their learning because of their migration. Often, they didn’t learn exactly as I did so I would have to determine the best way to present the material so that they could understand it. I would break the subject down into small steps, reinforce their successes and re-teach (over and over) when they didn’t grasp the ideas. Most of the time, I would just get started filling the gaps and having the student be successful at the lesson when their parents would up and move them again. From this teaching assignment, I learned that I had the capacity for developing patience. In fact, since then, I have become a very patient person.

My students and colleagues have commented that I have the patience of Job. I’m not sure about that, but I will admit that I encourage and support my students as they learn and that I am willing to re-teach (over and over) lessons until the light bulb moment. So, I would consider myself a very patient person, but it didn’t come naturally.

On the other hand, I married a man and I also have two children who do not have patience—none, nil, nix, nein, notta. I question whether they have the capacity to acquire patience. They want what they want now, if not before. We joke about it amongst ourselves. I say that whenever God passed out patience, they said “No, thanks.” Sarcastically, I call the guys “Mr. Patience” and my daughter, “Miss Patience.” My son-in-law, in contrast, has a fair amount of patience and he is not a complainer. He just goes with the flow.

I have resigned myself to accept the things I cannot change—that is, successfully teaching patience to my family. They are unmotivated learners where this virtue is concerned.

"A friend loveth at all times." Proverbs 17:17

Fortunate

During the moment of silence we are offered every school day, I thank God for his many blessings that he bestows on my family. We are all very blessed, but my children are particularly fortunate. Perhaps it is because they are strong young people and they have postured themselves to be successful in their endeavors. Perhaps it is because they are prayerful themselves. Perhaps it is because of intercessory prayers of many of our friends and relatives. It doesn’t really matter from where their blessings originate, the fact is that God does bless them in so many ways.

Out of the blue, J. P. got a raise last month. Brit and J. P. are in the “study” which pays for many of the expenses associated with in vitro and, hopefully, that, too, will be successful in the near future. B. C. was notified last week that he got another scholarship which is enough to pay for the rest of his TAMU expenses.

Those are just the blessings of the past month or so. Just imagine what lies in store for them.

"A friend loveth at all times." Proverbs 17:17

Treehouses

When they were kids, my brothers had treehouses in two of the trees around our home. They called the one in the tallest tree a clubhouse. They wrote a secret pact and stuck the paper between the bark and the trunk. They would discuss their members-only club and describe what fun they had in their treehouses.

I was very curious about all of that. They were older, so naturally, I assumed that they knew more than me. Their secret pact intrigued me. So, I got the notion to climb up in their treehouse to see what it was like.

I negotiated each of the wobbly boards carefully as I ascended to the pinnacle. They were rickety so I was nervous about climbing up. I kept my eyes skyward toward the treehouse platform. It didn’t occur to me to look down. When I got to the top of the tree and slid onto the platform of the treehouse, I turned around and looked outward and eventually downward. The world began to spin around me. I got really dizzy. I couldn’t move. I was petrified. That’s my first encounter with my fear of heights.

I decided to make the best of it while I was up there though. I found their secret pact in its tight hiding place and I opened it up slowly while checking all around me to see if they had spotted me yet. That secret pact was a bunch of gibberish that I couldn’t understand. I just thought that those boys were stupid to make such a fuss over something so unintelligible.

The real problem arose, though, when Mother called us to supper. I couldn’t get down. I’d try with all my might to reach my little foot down to the first step. It would move downward and I’d scrunch back up to the platform. I did this several times before I realized that I wasn’t going to be able to get down without some help. I began to yell for Mother to come help me. She sent the boys. Wonderful! Now they were going to know that I had gotten into their exclusive club treehouse.

They did come to my rescue, but only after chastising me for getting up there in the first place.

Several weeks later, I got brave again and thought I’d climb up the smaller tree to their other hideout. I discovered that my brothers had taken off the bottom step so I couldn’t reach it. So, I just got a lawn chair and it gave me enough height to reach the second step. I took my doll and slowly climbed up to the treehouse. I thought that I’d reached the sky. This tree was much smaller than the other one so I was not nearly as scared. I played there for what seemed like hours, then I climbed down and went inside.

When they got home from school, they scrambled up to their treehouses only to find that I’d left evidence behind that indicated that I’d been there. They discovered my doll. Since they knew I was afraid of heights, they conspired to take the top step off of the treehouse ladder. That way, I couldn’t get down once I got up there.

The next day, I scrambled to the top of the second treehouse to play again. It was a really long ways from the existing step to the treehouse platform, but I didn’t really notice that the top step was gone. Again, I pretended to be in a lookout for bad guys until nearly time for them to get off the bus.

That’s when I discovered (much to my dismay) that I couldn’t get down. No matter how far I reached my little leg down the tree toward the remaining top step, I just could not touch it. I stretched and stretched and nearly fell. So, all I could do was begin to beckon Mother to come and get me. She said I’d have to wait until the boys got home and one of them would come up and help me down. I began to cry. If there was one thing in the world that those boys couldn’t stand, it was my crying. Well, one did help me down and I was in trouble with both of them. They scolded me again and told me that the next time I climbed up to their treehouse that they wouldn’t get me down.

Because I was so naïve, I believed them. I never climbed into their treehouses again for fear of living out the rest of my natural life there.

"A friend loveth at all times." Proverbs 17:17

Perception versus Truth

It seems that more and more often, I realize that there is not a wide enough separation between the perception we possess and the truth. I had this principal once who used to say, “It doesn’t matter what the TRUTH is, a person’s perception of the truth is their reality.” Although I understood and agreed with this statement, I only began appreciating it more and more the last few years.

Too often people don’t really care what the TRUTH is. They would rather wallow in their perceptions, slander other’s character, be the victim, or look the hero. Even small variations from the truth can give a totally different perception. People judge based upon their own viewpoints without ever seeking the truth.

Recently while visiting friends who are remodeling their kitchen, the husband said that he and his wife were fighting over the decisions for the makeover everything from paint color to cabinet finishes. I remarked that although my husband and I had built two houses that we had never even fussed once. His friend was standing there and he pointed his finger at me and said, “That’s because your husband is afraid of you!”

I was quite taken aback because that man hardly knew us. His perception was that I ruled the roost and bossed my husband around. The truth is that we agreed at the beginning of our building projects that my husband could have whatever he wanted in the house and what he didn’t have a preference for, I would choose. We were certain that his preferences were met first. Therefore, we never had any arguments.

I figure lots of people think that I am bossy and controlling. In my classroom, I would say that is probably accurate. But that’s because I must save my sanity amongst the teenagers. However, outside the classroom and at home, that's not the truth.

Ask my husband about his honey-do list and he’ll tell you that he doesn’t have one. He hardly ever has had one. Only when our schedule is impossibly crowded do I ask him for help. That’s not to say that he doesn’t help out, because he does. He takes initiative to do lots of tasks, but not because I ask or demand it.

So the perception that I dominate our relationship is not accurate. The truth is that we come to an agreement before proceeding. Sometimes we agree to disagree, but nevertheless we move forward. We get along pretty well that way.

"A friend loveth at all times." Proverbs 17:17

Stradivarius

I’ve told several stories about my brother, Rick, and how he would use the fact that I am trusting to his advantage by telling me tall tales and having me believe them totally. Often, I would repeat his outlandish stories only to have the a few people hearing them assume that I was just lying. Since I’ve never been in the habit of lying, most people who knew us realized that my brother had told me a whopper.

What I haven’t yet told you is that my other brother, Gayland, has also duped me. He has had a love of music from an early age. Since my grandfather, Lemmie, was a fiddler, Gayland decided to take up fiddle playing, too. Grandmother Johnie gave him my grandfather’s fiddle so that he could learn to play. With perseverance and a few lessons, he became pretty good at fiddling. In fact, he used to go to the nursing homes regularly and entertain with some other musicians.

Once when I was at his house, he got out his fiddle and let me inspect it. In case you haven’t ever looked one over, they are pretty neat. The wood is beautiful and their gentle curvature looks so graceful. He pointed out that inside the fiddle there was a label that said Stradivarius. I peeked inside and sure enough, there it was. I had heard of a Stradivarius violin before. They are extremely expensive, extremely rare, and extremely old. He let me believe that his was one of those “real” Stradivarius violins.

I realize now that I should have known right then and there that that story couldn’t be true. Our family never had any expensive or rare possessions, just old and sentimental ones.

Some time later, I was chatting in the teacher’s workroom with some of my colleagues about families’ prized possessions. Of course, I had to share my story about my brother’s Stradivarius violin with them. They looked at me like I had three heads and most likely thought, “What a liar, the loser!” Nevertheless, they were gracious and commented, “I certainly hope he takes good care of it.” To which I replied, “Oh yes, he keeps it in its case whenever he’s not playing it.”

It wasn’t until several months later when I stumbled upon a copy of a Sears & Roebuck catalog from 1909 that I realized what a gullible fool I had been. There for all to see was advertised a Stradivarius violin offered for $1.95. Of course, it was a reproduction, but nowhere was that indicated. I’m reasonably certain that Gayland’s Stradivarius is a Sears & Roebuck Stradivarius reproduction since there weren’t but 1200 violins made by Stradivari in the 1700’s.

I look back and wish that I had never mentioned his violin because the one person whom I most admired and to whom I related this story, is now deceased and I can’t go back and tell her that I was a goober and believed my brother’s tall tale. Rest assured that I’m more careful now about what I repeat just for that reason.

"A friend loveth at all times." Proverbs 17:17

TGIF

More and more often, I look forward to Fridays. The springtime is very crazy with school activities, sports activities, spring cleaning, tax figuring, scholarship applications, FAFSA completing, Easter, yard work, etc. that I actually become like the students and say "TGIF".


"A friend loveth at all times." Proverbs 17:17

War is on

Yesterday, our community experienced an awakening. The entire day, Officer Brown, from the San Saba police department met with students, faculty, and community members to offer lots of tips on waging war against drugs in our community. He was joined by Dr. Killian (one of the local physicians) and Frank Craig (a counselor for drug addict inmates) in giving graphic, detailed information on what the short and long-term effects are on the body.

A large number of people of all ages attended the session last night. It was supposed to last from 6:00-8:00 p.m. and it wound up lasting until 9:30 p.m. Even then, although we were all tired, he had only scratched the surface on ways to recognize and combat drug abuse.

He challenged the faculty and parents to be positive role models for students. He challenged the police department, community, schools, and families to take back our kids. He urged all entities to support each other in words and actions. Finally, he said that while we were all in the same mindset that we must act quickly to develop a plan of action to wage this war on drugs and to give our kids reasons to stay drug-free.

He received a standing ovation and many rounds of applause during his presentation. I felt a camaraderie that I have not experienced here in Hamilton in a long time. Finally, it seemed that everyone was focused on the same goal. I was encouraged by the collaborative response from the audience. Let it be known that we have had a few battles, but now the war is on.

Advice

From time to time, my children ask for advice. They question themselves.

When my daughter asked what I thought about her transformation over the past several years from being a quiet doormat to being a self-confident businesswoman, I related this story.

“The adage 'To thine own self be true' comes to mind because all that really is significant is that you are pleased with yourself. Someone once said that they were at their best when they finally became 'comfortable in their own skin.' I think that you are approaching that stage now. The metamorphosis that I witness is amazing and overdue. You have come into your own.

You must know that I love both Britneys. Realizing that there are two means that you are growing. A blend of the two might be good, but finding out just who you are and being contented with yourself is what maturity is all about.

Recognizing your strengths and your weaknesses is a huge step in the process. Once you determine the "best" Britney, embrace her and help her continue to pursue joy.”

I think that was pretty good advice even if I did think of it myself.

UNOS Pizza

Over the last three weeks, I have had the rare opportunity to travel with my “big” kids to the metroplex. As a treat, we went to Sundance Square in downtown Fort Worth (corner of 2nd and Houston) to eat at Uno’s Italian Restaurant. Let me just say this: “Their pizza is the best – bar none -- that I have ever eaten -- in my life.” What makes it so good is the deep dish crust and the delectable cheeses that top it. I like the four-cheese individual pizza with mushrooms and black olives. The four cheese pizza features pesto and plum tomatoes topped with mozzarella, Muenster, Romano and feta cheeses. One piece will fill me up, but I go ahead and eat two just so I don’t hurt the chef’s feelings. Then, I take the rest home in a box so I can savor it later.

Is it any wonder?

People wonder why I'm the way I am. Wonder no more. The man in the picture on the right is my dad. Now, they understand exactly why I am the way I am.

A friend brought this clipping by to me last week. His mother is the tall woman in the center. While going through some of her things recently, he happened upon this picture. I scanned it and returned the original. I've had a lot of fun recalling that more tranquil time. Dad always had a neat sense of humor and it is exhibited by his "get-up" during Krazy Daze (a Chamber of Commerce promotional event) in 1965.

City Drug was the coffee shop of the day. Business men met there every day to exchange stories (not gossip, you understand, because men don't do that). As a child, I loved going there on Saturday's as mother did our grocery shopping. I would get a cherry phosphate served up in one of those Coke glasses you see on the table. Ahhhh,
memories. They are so precious.

Our Family

Our family is a blessing...

it shares so many things.

Words can never really express

the happiness family brings.

Our family holds an unbreakable tie no matter where we travel.

Our family shares a special bond that time can never unravel.

A Giant Upset

I love watching football. . . most especially my beloved Bulldogs, Aggies, and Cowboys. Only if they are not playing will I choose a side and it will invariably be that I root for the underdog.

On so many levels, the Super Bowl was a triumph of the underdog. The game was much more than it was touted to be. Few people gave the New York Giants a chance to win the game. They got in the playoffs by being a wild card team. In fact, I heard that the bets were overwhelmingly in favor of the Patriots. However, a Patriots win was not to be.

In my humble opinion, the New York Giants set a goal early in the year and proceeded to systematically and determinedly reach that goal. I really hated it when the Giants beat the Cowboys. I was upset, but I had to respect them for their efforts.

In the Super Bowl, it was obvious that the Giants defense had “done their homework” and play by play picked apart the Patriots offense. The Giants never gave up; never seem frustrated nor panicked. They just kept patiently playing the game forging forward to victory.

There were very few turnovers and penalties. They didn’t seem to be a big factor in the outcome. The big play was when Eli Manning escaped what seemed like a sure sack and sailed the ball to Tyree who used basketball-like finesse to snare and secure it. That play gave the Giants the momentum for the ensuing Manning-Burress touchdown.

I noticed that although they were elated, they still took nothing for granted. They knew the game was not over even with only half a minute left. I detected guarded optimism. The Patriots still had all of their timeouts left. The Giants just chipped away at the Patriots offense and made sure that they defended the guaranteed passes.

I really feel like the New York Giants had a bigger plan. They used their weapons to their advantage and never gave thought to anything less than winning. It would have been easy to become an “also ran”, but they kept their eyes on the prize and defeated the almost perfect Patriots.

Perhaps the Patriots rested on their laurels. I have no way of knowing. However, I do know this, I admire people who set goals and use the tools that they have to accomplish them picking apart their competitors (i.e. Bulldogs vs. Mart Panthers).

I will also add that even though the Patriots’ coach and quarterback were obviously very disappointed, they showed class and gave credit to the Giants because they were due the credit of defeating the previously undefeated Patriots. Instead of trash talking and placing blame, they congratulated the Giants. That tells a lot about their character.

Sometimes underdogs prevail which makes things seem balanced somehow. That is what competition is about and it is good.

Cindy

A couple of weeks ago, my daughter and I went over to Stephenville for her eye exam. While we were in Wal-Mart, I ran into a “girl” that I grew up with. I hadn’t seen her in several months so, of course, we spent time catching up.

Used to, we would see each other at least every Easter at church, if not more often. She hadn’t seen my daughter since she was small so that was a real treat for her. I’m not sure when the last time was that she saw my son, but he was probably younger than school age. I showed her pictures that I had in my wallet.

She caught me up on her family, too. She told me about her girls and what they were doing and where they were living. We discussed her great aunt who was over 100 and who had passed away a couple of years ago. We recounted our childhood days romping and playing and ruling the play area between our grandmothers’ houses.

Her sister had actually been closer to my age, but I always got along better with her than with her older sister. I think it was because she was so upbeat and she smiled a lot and was just a happy little girl.

Anyway, we had a few stories to relate to Brit so that she could get a sense of our relationship and our childhood.

Near the end of the conversation, she asked me if I was still teaching. I told her, “Lord, yes. I’ve been there 29 years.”

At that point, she asked me if I knew this “girl” named Cindy who lives in our community. I said, “Well, yes, I do. I teach with her and I’ve taught both of her boys.”

She said that her third daughter and Cindy’d oldest son were together and that she felt sorry for the baby because of both grandmother Cindys. I told her that I had probably seen her daughter several times, but that I never made the connection.

I remember her older two girls better because they were the ones I saw at Easter more often. But, I remembered her remarrying, having more children, and moving to Stephenville. Time passes so quickly that I never realized that they were not still the little girls in the frilly dresses I remembered from the Lamkin Methodist Church Easter Egg hunts.

For many years, Easter was the biggest treat because all of the little ladies of the church would get together and make this huge production of the Easter Sunday egg hunt and party. All the kids who grew up there came back and brought their children to bask in the attention slathered on by the little grandmothers and great aunts.

Cindy and her sister, Jeannie, would come down to Lamkin from Fort Worth every summer to visit their grandmother, Sadie, and Aunt Dixie. Sadie lived directly behind my grandmother on the next block. The area in between the two houses (and most of Lamkin, in fact) was our stomping grounds. We thought we “ruled the roost”, but actually, it was our grandmothers who did. We just got to shoo the other chicks out of the way.

Those are great memories. I have always just loved Cindy. She is a great person and I know that you are fortunate to have her as your grandchild’s “other Cindy.” I don’t even know her last name now. I just know that when I see her, it’s as if we’ve never really been apart, just catch up a little bit and move on.

I wanted to share this because it is a small world, after all.

How 'bout those Aggies?

Those Aggie basketball players whooped up on the t.u. guys last night. Way to go! Whoop! Thanks and Gig 'Em!

They won by 17 points over a very talented (albeit loathsome) team. At one point, the horns pulled to within 9, but they were never a serious threat. One of the horns was ejected from the game for a flagrant foul. Shame on him.

Dominique Kirk remains a formidable foe on the Aggie team. He is my son's friend. All I know is that he is really tall, but by comparison to the Aggie freshmen, he's not. I understand that two of the freshmen are 6' 11" and 7' tall. That means that they can't enter a normal size door without ducking their heads. I'll bet they are good rebounders as well as shooters.

People watching

I’ve encountered lots of people in my lifetime. Because I have had opportunities to mingle with many different types of people, I have become a people watcher (if you will).

Most of my acquaintances are casual ones. We exchange just the normal greetings and niceties as we pass the day.

However, some people with whom I’m associated have peaked my interest. I’ve categorized some of them into three sorts.

First, there are the waxers. The waxers are those whose behavior is much like that of a piece of wood heavily laden with thick wax. Things just sort of roll off of them. They are not disturbed by life’s problems. They go with the flow.

Next, come the wedgers. They are the people who like to drive wedges between other people (or sometimes between themselves and other people). For whatever reason, they want to keep others at bay. I suspect that perhaps the wedger is either of the controlling nature, a jealous-hearted person, or a vindictive individual. In any event, the wedger wants to keep people separate from one another.

Finally, there are the sealers. Those are the ones who want to bond people together in relationships. They become a friend and never let go. The sealers stick to others like glue, but with an important difference. Their relationships are impenetrable. They are loyal to the bitter end and overlook any imperfections.

Personally, I prefer the waxers and the sealers. They are much more fun to be around. The wedgers just cause distress to those around them.