It’s the morning after the big rain storms in Houston. Today so many families are facing the destruction of their homes or the loss of their property, possessions and cars. Far worse are the deaths of five individuals who never dreamed yesterday morning that before the day was done they would become victims of the raging waters that overtook the city’s bayous and streets. While all of the pandemonium was playing out all over my hometown there were people still dealing with the routines of life. Babies were born, people became sick, some took their final breaths. The world goes on all around us in spite of dramatic events and this was all too sadly true for my long time friend, Chris Nixon. This morning those of us who knew him learned from his daughter that he had died. Continue reading “Our Captain”
Category: Aging
Saddle Oxfords and Loafers
My mother was frugal by nature but when it came to purchasing school shoes for our feet money was no object. She often told us that such a luxury was impossible in her big immigrant family. As the youngest child she always wore hand-me-down shoes that were often so badly worn that there were gapping holes in the leather soles. Her mother cleverly inserted cardboard inside to keep them useful for a bit longer. Mama never complained about her childhood predicament but I suspect that it was a source of embarrassment for her. She rectified her own want by providing me and my brothers with sturdy, well fitting footwear that came from the finest makers of children’s shoes. In fact, we regularly visited the local Lippies’ Shoe Store where the parents of one of my classmates were maestros of quality procedures that insured that the shoes we purchased would hug our feet like soft gloves.
I appeared to have fallen arches so Mr. and Mrs. Lippies insisted that I wear oxfords with a steel support to hold my flat feet in the correct position. Finding just the right pair for me was a tedious process that often took well over thirty minutes of intense consideration of my physiological needs before the kindly owners of the store felt that I had the most perfect pair for my feet. Mostly the style never varied. Virtually every time that Mama bought me a new pair of shoes they were saddle oxfords that I might wear to school. I would then use them until I had outgrown them and my toes were pushing painfully at the edges. Continue reading “Saddle Oxfords and Loafers”
Foot in Mouth Disease
Hopefully everyone made it through the long holiday weekend relatively unscathed. I hope that your football was as good as mine (Go Coogs!) and that you didn’t blow your healthy diet too much. (Isn’t pumpkin cheesecake in the fruit and vegetable category?) Maybe you even managed to snag a real bargain or two without having to stand in a Walmart Pick Up line where the employees appeared to be extras for a Dumb and Dumbersequence and the manager was right out of central casting for Bad Bosses. Unless you stayed home and didn’t attend a big family gathering you probably even missed all of the small talk and questions from dotty old aunts. Unfortunately I came to the conclusion this year that I have slowly become more and more likely to be thought of as the sweet but far too inquisitive relation who engages in the worst form of small talk. Continue reading “Foot in Mouth Disease”
Young and Beautiful
My social calendar includes far too many funerals these days. I recall a time when my mother-in-law seemed to be attending a farewell service of some kind almost once a month. She joked that at the rate her friends and relatives were going there would be nobody left to honor her when she died. That proved to be entirely false because she had been such a generous soul in life that the church was crowded with people who wanted to honor her in death. It’s not an easy thing to lose a loved one and the nature of funerals is to recall the best moments of the deceased’s life. In today’s world that almost always includes a slideshow of photographs outlining the human milestones that are universal to our society.
Thus it was with the man whose life we honored on this past Saturday. I didn’t know him well. He was the father of my cousin’s wife. Had he lived a few more weeks he would have been ninety nine years old. The most recent images of him showed a thin elderly man with little hair who appeared not yet accustomed to being without his wife who had predeceased him. It was not the photos of his family nor his parties that caught my fancy but one that captured the spirit of his youth. There he was in all his glory with a head full of hair and a look of determination and hopefulness on his unlined face. He was handsome and full of vim and vigor. He had not yet even begun the long journey that would eventually define him but his visage showed that he somehow knew even then that it was going to be great. Continue reading “Young and Beautiful”
All It Takes Is A Little Love 