Month: October 2024

I admit that I am an anxious person by nature. I suppose I’ve always had an overblown tendency to be concerned about other people. I suspect that certain events in my life have taught me to constantly prepare for the possibility of worst case scenarios. I often fret that things may go awry and I try to prepare myself and others for such eventualities. 

As a teacher having plans ready from A to Z was a plus because the cadence of a classroom can change in a heartbeat. I had to be prepared for events that seemed improbable but still managed to crop up in my day to day work. I suppose that being a nervous Nelly who would lie awake at night imagining what I would do in case of this emergency or that actually made me a fabulous educator but it definitely took its toll on my personal wellbeing. 

I’ve been that person who swings into action to take care of the people around me since eight year old me watched over my brothers while my mother grieved over the death of her beloved husband. I quietly became an old old soul on that tragic day, understanding better than many of my peers that bad things can happen when you least expect them. I still fret and worry about my brothers and their families. Sometimes I awake in the middle of the night wondering if they are okay. My instincts still alert me when they are in need even if they have said nothing. I can read their feelings in some kind of physic connection that I will never be able to explain. 

I never would have guessed that my mother’s trials of being a single parent would have led her to four decades of battling with bipolar disorder but that is exactly what happened. For those forty years I was her caretaker, alone at first and later joined by my brothers. I spent most of my young adult life watching over her and assessing her mental state while raising two daughters. Sometimes I worry that there were too many times when I was more concerned with my mother’s health than what was happening with my little girls. I was juggling so many responsibilities that it was inevitable that I would drop a ball now and then. 

I am so accustomed to worrying and fretting that it has become second nature to my personality. Some people see me as a control freak and they may have a point. I am always scanning the environment, looking for someone in need, attempting to solve problems before they grow too dangerous. I suppose that trying to take care of everyone might be viewed as a form of controlling them, but in my heart my only purpose is to be ready to catch someone if they begin to fall. Experience has taught me that such moment scome when we least expect them and it pays to be ready with a plan of action. 

I sometimes wish that I had the ability to simply be carefree and without the worrisome thoughts that seem to fill my head. It would be nice not to be so tuned in to people’s hurts and needs. Sometimes the weight of concern that I carry overwhelms me, especially whenever I widen my notice to include strangers who are in trouble. That’s when I have to back off just a bit knowing that there is so little that I might do other than say a prayer or two. I talk to God and seek comfort in understanding what I should do. 

My husband and I spend each evening at our dinner table talking about this and that with my ninety five year old father-in-law who now lives with us. Sometimes the banter is light and airy and sometimes it grows serious. What I have learned from the conversations is just how anxious my father in law is like me. The two of us often overthink the future and the well being of others but it is a part of our natures that won’t be undone at this late juncture of our lives. 

One evening my father-in-law spoke of praying to God and expressed his belief that God put us here to perform the miracles that he wants to happen. In other words, God gave us many talents that he expects us to use to solve the problems of the world. When bad things happen he expects us to take charge, do whatever we can, love and support the people around us. 

I suppose that I tend to agree with my father-in l-aw that we each have roles to play on this earth. My own prayers are always for the strength and guidance to do whatever I was meant to do. Sometimes I need that extra spiritual push just to keep going when I am weary. Somehow I always find a way to dig deeply inside of my soul and find what I seek to keep moving forward. 

Right now my world and the bigger world are so overheated that I sometimes want to darken my bedroom and spend a day in bed. I imagine running away and living in the woods without a care in the world. My anxieties are in overload because of wars and storms and a kind of worldwide divisiveness which I know I cannot fix alone. I have to calm myself lest I lose my direction and my energy. I have to reorient my perspective and work first on myself before I turn to the task of serving others. It’s a battle I have endured many times before so I have an idea of what I must do to stay strong. 

I suspect that there are millions of people much like me. We are living in very serious times when it is easy to lose our footing and wander into the weeds of despair. We need to keep our perspectives positive and pace ourselves for the battles that lie ahead. Life has taught me that this too shall pass just as every stressful event in my life has done. So I’m taking a deep breath and preparing to spend some time each day dwelling on the many good things that I see around me. Too much worrying will sap me unless I balance it with enjoying my good fortune. I may have to hoist a heavy burden tomorrow, but for today I plan to just trust that I have done all that I can for now. I will set my anxieties aside. This is a plan that has worked for me over and over again.

It was early morning and the sun was just peeking over the horizon. There was enough of a chill in the air to prompt me to wrap a fluffy throw wrapped around my legs as I glanced out my window to catch a glimpse of children and their parents waiting for the school bus to arrive. Somehow it felt as though it was going to be a glorious day as I munched on my breakfast and sipped my tea. 

I had quickly completed the challenges of all of my word games and went to Facebook to post birthday greetings to one of my former students and to alert reader to my blog for the day. Then I began to read comments from friends who were also up before the dawn.

The first thing that really caught my eye was a new photo of a dear friend and her daughter. It was a beautiful head shot of the two ladies that literally captured the love and devotion between the two of them. I was overcome by emotion as I gazed at the image and realized how vividly obvious their connection to each other was. I was literally overcome with tears. That picture was as glorious as a symphony, a great work of art. It literally changed the course of my thoughts from the mundane to a kind of meditation on life and the world around me. 

Perhaps because I was in a state of optimism I began to see each new post that I read far beyond superficialities. There were joyful images of a couple celebrating their anniversary at the beach with family, another of the wedding of a young couple laughing and dancing with joy. Then came the image of a three month old baby girl with a proud description of life with her from her father. It was as though I was looking into the very souls of the people whose faces and stories had been left to brighten my day and fill my attitude with hope. 

I continued my journey along my Facebook wall and saw a former student who was celebrating a new hairdo that left her beaming with a kind of confidence that only comes from loving herself and the people around her. I cried again when I came across a heartfelt remembrance of a friend’s visit with her aging brother who is beginning to show signs of forgetfulness. Then I read a moving newsletter from the historian Heather Cox Richardson in which she celebrated the majesty of the United States of America with all of its diversity and creativity. 

Somehow it felt as though I was receiving a moving and spiritual message from the universe insuring me that we the people of the world are ultimately going to be alright. It will be our love and joy that will carry us through the darkest of times just as it always has. There is an innate goodness in each of us and in the land around us that pushes us in the direction of what really matters. 

It is easy to become distracted by things that are meaningless. Sometimes it is difficult to see and understand the power of simply accepting and caring about people and the places where we live without judgement and negativity that bears on us like a heavy burden. We are made to feel that the world is a dystopian nightmare of anger, crimes, hate and wars. 

Certainly those things do exist but they are not the inevitable lot of humankind. It is in the unfiltered love of one individual for another that we find the true nature of people. It is in accepting those around us just as they are, seeing their beauty and worth without commands that they be one way or another that we thrive together. The bonds between us should be stronger than words and beliefs that threaten to drive us apart. We should be able and willing to see the heart and soul of each other rather than only the superficial differences that bother us. 

That three month old girl that I saw must be allowed to become truly herself with only love and encouragement helping her to know what that might be. That old man who is losing his memory is still the person that he has always been and his worth is as great as ever. Our nation is a conglomeration of many people of many shades and beliefs. It is a beautiful patchwork quilt of diverse ecosystems and dreams. 

Our greatness comes not in defining a perfect person or perfect world but in a willingness to love and cherish and share the talents and ideas and beauty of each and every individual without trying to make them fit a mold that works for us. The only concept of living together that we need is the one that allows the freedom to be different and still love each other. 

When I see those images I see the way that we get past the rancor that sometimes seems to be the natural way of things. It is not so much in protecting ourselves from those who differ from the ways we like to do things, but in seeing the good even in those that we struggle to understand. The meaning of life is found not in the moments when we all agree but in those in which we celebrate how wonderfully different and yet alike we are. 

It was date night again and I was looking for something different to do. None of the movies in theaters interested me and we had already been to most of the nighttime museums around town. It seemed like a nice night to find a coffee shop and just sit and talk but I wanted to do something more adventurous. Remembering that one of my grandsons was in town I decided to invite him to go to dinner with us. Since I had no idea how to pick one place from the ten thousand restaurants that seem to be on every corner of the Houston area, I punted the ball to him deciding that potluck would be the best way to go. 

We picked him up in the Sugar Land area of town and he suggested that we try a highly rated Indian restaurant not far from the home where he was staying. Aga’s had a 4.8 out of 5 rating so it sounded like a good bet for a dining adventure. Located in a strip mall on Wilcrest Drive, the Indian/Pakistani eatery was brimming with life when we arrived. The atmosphere was electric and parking was difficult to find. Somehow we felt as though we had stumbled upon a happening. 

The dining room at Aga’s is quite large and it seemed as though every table was filled with smiling people munching away on exotic dishes. To our delight our wait was only a couple of minutes before we were seated at a table by the window, an extra treat given the crowd of people that kept arriving in large groups and small. Soon there was a long line and long wait for anyone who came. 

It took a bit of time to read the menu that offered dishes that were unfamiliar to us. We decided to order a sampling of different items to share. We chose vegetable samosas, a kind of deep fried flaky pastry filled with potatoes, and gobi Manchurian, fried cauliflower tossed in a spicy sauce. I thought the BBQ chicken wings sounded tasty and we included a shrimp and rice dish along with some curry and naan bread. For beverages we chose mango ice tea and mango lassi, a mango juice blend with sweet yogurt milk and sugar. We topped off our epicurean excursion with mango mousse for dessert.

Everything about the restaurant was delightful from the friendliness of the staff to the large pitchers of ice water that kept appearing on our table as we tasted the exotic spices of each dish. We quickly learned that any description of a sauce that included the word, spicy, meant that our mouths would soon be burning from the heat of peppers. Our favorite offering ended up being the gobi Manchurian cauliflower which surprised us all. The vegetable samosa was delightful as well with flavors that were so different from anything we had ever experienced. The chicken was hotter than hot, not in terms of temperature but in regard to the level of spice used to prepare it. While it was incredibly delicious none of us were able to consume more than two of the wings without chugging down water to cool our palates. Perhaps it takes time to become accustomed to the ultra spiciness.

While we were there someone was celebrating a birthday and the lively singing from the waiters filled the room with a kind of joy that floated to each table. Meanwhile a vendor of wind-up toy dogs had set up a display just outside our window. There was as much festivity on the sidewalk outside as inside the large dining room. It was a happening for sure that made us smile and feel a sense of pride in our city of Houston that boasts more diversity than any place in the United States. We had found a little corner of Indian culture that made as feel as though we had stumbled upon a rare jewel. 

Nobody rushed us as we talked and laughed and felt infected by the joyful mood of the place. We munched on flavors that our tastebuds had never before encountered and spoke of how much we love our city that welcomes people from all over the world. Our grandson described a website that he is designing and seemed excited about a class he is about to begin to enhance his Computer Engineering degree. He was already communicating with the teacher and some of the other students about what he hopes to accomplish. It delighted me to know that he intends to be a lifelong learner eager to keep honing his craft. 

As we left the crowd of waiting guests had swelled but nobody was out of sorts or pushy. The atmosphere itself was part of the ambiance. Cars were circling the parking lot looking for an available spot. Soon a woman dressed in a sari eagerly stood where our truck had once been while her husband made one more pass to clinch ownership of the coveted spot. He waved and shouted that he “owed us one” as he pulled into the space.

We were delighted with our visit to Afga’s and felt as though we had discovered a not so hidden secret in our great city. I hope to return another time to try some other dishes and to get the feeling of joy that brought so many smiles to our faces. Discovering something new and wonderful is always fun. 

Most tragedies that happen in life are not so easy to untangle as we look for answers that will explain behaviors that confound us. The truth usually lies somewhere in a complex gordian knot that makes it almost impossible for us to ever fully understand how things went so wrong. 

As a teacher I often encountered students with severe behavioral problems. Sometimes they were violent and frightening. It was easiest just to write them off as thugs, bad individuals in need of punishments for their harmful actions. Whenever I took the time to learn more about them I almost always saw that they were not born that way nor did they suddenly choose to be that way. Their journey to ugliness resulted from a complex series of issues that ultimately led to their angry bravado. 

The first time I encountered such an individual I was teaching fourth grade in a low income neighborhood. Some of my students were homeless, living in family cars or bunking down in a relative’s garage. The young man who caught my attention decided to threaten his fellow students with a pair of scissors in the bathroom. A frightened boy begged me to intercede and so I raced to the area to find the boy with the scissors sitting alone near the urinals with the point of the implement pointed to his jugular vein. He threatened to jam the blade into his throat if I came near him. Instead I sat down on the nasty floor and spoke softly to him, attempting to calm his fear and anger. I slowly inched closer and closer to him until our shoulders touched each other. When I asked for permission to hug him, he began to cry and lowered his weapon. That’s when I grabbed him in a bear hug sobbing along with him. He dropped the scissors to the ground and I retrieved them. 

I later learned that the boy had been set on fire by his mother when he was only three years old. The trauma of that event had left him scarred both physically and emotionally. From time to time something would trigger him and he would become violent in a kind of response to the fear that still lived inside his mind. He was hospitalized after the episode in the bathroom but would never come back to our school. I have always worried and about him and wondered how he is doing. Part of me feared that he was never able to control the demons that I saw in his actions that day. Another part of me hopes that he got the help he needed and continued on with a fulfilling life.

I could recount story after story of broken souls who experienced horrors in their childhood that not even healthy adults would be able to overcome without longterm therapy. There was the young man who witnessed his father killing his mother. There was a boy whose mom worked as a prostitute at night leaving him to watch his little sister. When his sibling was raped by a neighbor the mother blamed the twelve year old boy for what had happened. All of the lost souls that I witnessed had horrific stories that would never be easy to unravel and turn into the kind of normal outcomes that most of us experience in healthy and loving homes. Without extended and compassionate care most of them seemed to be doomed to difficult and often violent lives.

We would do well to invest far more time and money into helping such youngsters while they are still young and a bit more malleable rather than waiting until they are overtly committing crimes and mayhem as teenagers or adults. The longer we take to address the issues, the more damage is done done making it quite difficult to bring about the changes needed for them to live normal lives in our society. They grow into mass shooters, thieves, murders, angry and dangerous souls. 

I do not believe in overlooking the crimes of such people. They definitely must be addressed and just punishments must be administered, but my idea is to catch them earlier in the developmental process. We should be able to provide them with the counseling and emotional support that they need to reverse the negative trajectory of their lives. This is especially true for noticing those who are bullied and finding out who is bullying them. The child constantly sitting alone should never just be ignored. The individual hiding behind dark clothing may be visually expressing pain. The girl who wears long sleeved sweaters in the heat of summer might be hiding the scars that she has inflicted on herself from constant cutting. 

It is often easiest to look the other way when it is apparent that a young person is suffering. We don’t have to be invasive but we need to be observant enough to notice changes in the ways they act, suddenly lower grades, avoidance of other people. We should never just assume that it’s just the way that person is. There are almost always very clear signs that someone is in a state of distress if only we take the time to watch for such things. 

Not all of the souls for whom I interceded over the years have turned out well, but a great number of them have and they still communicate to me how important my care and concern was in helping them to feel confident and healthy. The young are a treasure, a valuable resource for the future of society. It is up to all of us to really see them and hear them and care about them before they become tragic statistics. Nothing feels worse than remembering the signs of distress that we did nothing about. We can make a difference and we should always be willing to try.

A few weeks ago my husband Mike and I were watching our daughter’s two collie dogs while she accompanied her youngest son to the University of Notre Dame. She lives in one of the most scenic places in the state of Texas, the Hill Country just outside of San Antonio. Visiting there is always magnificent with vistas that seem to define the real Texas, not the one in movies or as portrayed by politicians. It is as fine a place that I have ever seen and I have been to some exceptionally beautiful locales. Maybe I am a bit biased because I was born and raised in Texas or as Willie Nelson likes to boast, I was made in Texas. 

We take advantage of being at my daughter’s home because she is close to so many of Texas’ best spots. We never miss driving on a route that takes us through a cute little town nestled along the Blanco River which sometime is as lazy as can be but others rages over its banks. It boasts a couple of nice restaurants and several little shops and antique stores. It’s a fun place to spend a few leisurely hours, but on the most recent day we went through town and kept heading down the road toward Johnson City, the birthplace of former President Lyndon Baines Johnson. 

Johnson City has preserved Lyndon Johnson’s childhood home and a tour of the place is quite interesting. It’s hard to imagine the long ago when a little boy’s grandmother predicted the rise to power that Lyndon eventually achieved. It’s a small house in a place where there was little to suggest the future of its favorite son. The town itself is still somewhat sleepy much as it has always been. The road leads to what would become known as the “Texas Whitehouse” were Johnson’s family had a ranch and Lyndon first went to school. Nestled along the Pedernales River are structures where Lyndon once lived and a family cemetery where he now lies. 

There was a time when Johnson flew in on a private air strip and drove around in a Lincoln Continental showing off his pride in the Texas landscape to kings and potentates. Now it is a peaceful reminder of a time when the local boy had been the most powerful man in the nation. It was the place that Johnson loved best and when I go there I understand why. It always reminds me of the essence of Texas with its wildness, but also a kind of serenity that is all too often difficult to find anywhere else.

On our latest trip to the area we continued on to Fredericksburg, a town settled by German farmers that has become a tourist mecca with its many shops and wineries. It’s also home to the National Museum of the Pacific War because Admiral Nimitz was from that little hamlet. With the good food and many attractions Fredericksburg is a must see that we never fail to visit whenever we are in the area. I like to stop for wursts and red cabbage and German potato salad and a glass of wine at one of the many wineries. I’m drawn to the quilt shop and more often than not visit to a store that sells locally made jellies and jams. 

This time around we enjoyed some wine at Becker’s Vineyard even though the temperature was topping out at one hundred three degrees. We found shade and a nice breeze under a big fan and relaxed in the quiet near the lavender fields. I would not have minded lingering longer but we were on a mission to purchase some bluebonnet seeds to plant in our backyard in September. Come springtime they will burst into the lovely blue blooms that remind my whe they are the Texas state flower. 

We took a route along backroads on our return to our daughter’s home. As the highway twisted and turned we listened to music from Willie Nelson, the quintessential Texan who seems to understand the heart of Texas and it’s people better than anyone. I have to admit that I got a bit emotional with the beauty of the moment as we passed by farmhouses and fields and a meandering river. Willie serenaded us reminding us of how much we too love Texas. Somehow being in the beating heart of the state not far from Austin made us feel like the luckiest people on the planet. 

I know that Texas is not perfect. I disagree politically with our governor and many of our representatives but I look beyond that craziness. Most of the people here are rather wonderful even though some of them hold ideas of how things should be run that are very different than my own. That’s just the way it is in Texas. We mostly mind our own business and take care of each other no matter which side of the fence we stand on. We’ve got just about anything here that anyone might want. We have beaches and mountains and great cities. We take pride in our universities and our centers of medicine. We have forests and deserts, NASA and cypress swamps. 

Ours is a great state as long as the powers that be don’t get too carried away with telling all of us how we should be. Texans have not traditionally done very well with bossy individuals who get into our business but of late we’ve had some close calls with leaders who seem to think they will improve things by legistating how we should live. I’m hoping that this trend does not last because the best thing about Texas has always been letting us all live however we choose. I even have a pillow that we once purchased at the Johnson Ranch that has a perfect quote from President Lyndon Johnson, “This is my ranch and do as I damn please!” For me that sums up how Texas is supposed to be. Maybe soon we can get back to being that way again. For this gal being made in Texas has been wonderful and I’d like to keep it that way.