Long Hollow

West Texas weekend - Kirby, windmills, and Merkel cousins

2009-12-21T21:34:31-06:00

The first thought in my mind and the first words out of my mouth this morning..."I'm tired..." even before my feet hit the floor. Probably not the best way to start a Monday, but I wouldn't trade this past whirlwind West Texas weekend for anything. It was totally worth the exhaustion, and not just because I had all three of my kids together again. (There will be plenty of time to sleep in January...right?)

The weekend started Friday morning...my crew headed west to Lubbock for Tommy's girlfriend Kirby's graduation from Texas Tech University. We were driving through Abilene before I realized we would be passing within single digit miles of my cousin Sherlyn's house (this is one of my problems - sometimes I focus on the big picture in an abstract way...in this case, the graduation...and forget about the details...like the journey out there.)

"Hey, Sherlyn...what're you doing?"

"Having lunch with a friend. What are you doing?"

"Driving through Abilene..."

"What???"

She was at a restaurant right next to the highway, so we met her there and followed her back to her house for a quick visit with her and some of her kids. We promised to stop on our way back home for lunch and a longer visit on Sunday.

I love driving through West Texas...but that always always catches me by surprise. In my mind, it's flat and empty...in reality, it's full of surprise drop-offs, canyons and plateaus...vistas that go for miles and miles. Beautiful! How can I forget them?

My only prior experience with Lubbock was passing through on my way to Colorado, and I have to admit, it had never really impressed me before...it seemed a little, um, drab. But by the time Sunday rolled around and it was time to leave, I was hoping we could come back some day - we never even made it to the Buddy Holly museum or the Llano winery, much less Palo Duro Canyon, only a couple of hours away. (Bucket list #44..."Return to Lubbock")

However, we still had a packed weekend...besides the graduation itself early Saturday morning, we got a taste of Kirby's college life outside of class (drinks at Crickets Grill and Draft House on Friday night and margaritas at Chimy's on Saturday afternoon). Also on Saturday, we celebrated with her family at a luncheon at her sorority house and a dinner at Lisa West's Double Nickel Steakhouse (melt-in-your-mouth steaks!), and even slipped in one side trip of our own...a visit to the Windmill Museum!

We were happy we could help Kirby celebrate her graduation - despite transferring from another college and switching majors, and being treasurer of her sorority, she still graduated in only 3 1/2 years with a degree in finance! That is something to celebrate!

Just seeing the university was special for me for another reason, though. After World War II, my dad attended Texas Tech for one or two semesters (it might have been more - I never can remember) before leaving to follow his dream of becoming a Texas Highway Patrolman.

We made it to Sherlyn's by lunchtime on Sunday. I'm ashamed to admit it, but even though they live less than four hours away, until this weekend it had been almost eighteen years since we'd been to their house. (Thank goodness she had made trips to Houston and Austin to see us!) We vowed to be back soon.

I was eager to get home, though. I worried about Max being left there without Charly. (Frankie is company, but he's not Charly.) I needn't have worried; Max was fine. Frankie actually seemed the most relieved that we were home...he hovered near the door and snuck inside when it opened, taking advantage of us being loaded down with luggage. He made a quick inspection of the livingroom, then, satisfied it was safe, I guess, headed out the French doors when Tom went out to get some firewood. Good guard guinea.

Scenes from Kirby's graduation...

Windmills...a Dandy like ours...old next to new...

Tom, me, Sherlyn, Scott...cousins by birth, friends by choice...distance has never been able to keep us apart...

The Thing About Neighbors...

2009-12-17T20:40:03-06:00

"To love our neighbors as ourselves is such a truth for regulating human society, that by that alone one might determine all the cases in social morality." - John Locke

Dennis lived in Long Hollow first - years and years before anyone else thought it was appealing to live down a dirt road. He had the place all to himself, except for a few neighbors on the hills surrounding the hollow.

And then we showed up, bringing our three kids and two dogs out on the weekends to clear bits of the property, picnic and dream of the day we would live out here. Tom would rev up the backhoe and play like a little boy with a Tonka Truck.

Then the kids got older...busier...our visits were fewer and fewer...I'm sure Dennis secretly hoped we would be like all of the other property owners out here who never actually get around to building. We started wondering ourselves!

In the meantime others discovered the Hollow. Houses started going up, mostly on the surrounding hills. Just as we fell into the rapids of our own homebuilding, the first big neighbor vs. neighbor problem arose. It was a big one, about whether businesses were allowed out here and whether the Homeowner's Association carried any weight at all. It ultimately went to court.

We had our opinion on the issue, but were too busy trying to meet deadlines and pay bills to get involved. The downside was the demise of the Homeowner's Association and all deed restrictions. We're feeling the affects of that decision now...I think if it had gone the other way, we wouldn't have this crumbling wall of dirt on the end of our pond right now. No one could just buy property and do whatever popped into their heads out here...the deed restrictions protected the natural beauty of the hollow and everyone's investment from people who didn't spare a thought for anyone but themselves...who couldn't see beyond their own bit of land or how it was connected to the rest of the Hollow...the creek...our ponds...Lake Travis...and on and on...

Now Dennis told us this week that he's been having problems similar to ours...a neighbor who doesn't respect property lines. That's all he thought it was until a county inspector came out and discovered the neighbor had dug a pit for his personal "waste" which, when the rain ultimately hit the Hollow, overflowed into their pond and drifted merrily downstream to us. Yeah, thanks. Our little waterfall doesn't sound quite as pretty now.

But neighbors can be a good thing, too. For instance, take Dennis...Tom was out here working on the backhoe one weekend years ago, when we still lived in town. The ground was soft and the backhoe flipped. Thank goodness Tom wasn't hurt, but the backhoe had a busted tire and he couldn't drive it back home, so he walked down to Dennis' house and Dennis gave him a lift home (it was during those archaic pre-cell-phone days.)

It's because of another neighbor up the hill that we have trash service out here. And during that tragic fight between Charly and his brother Chewy soon after we moved in, the neighbor behind us heard my screams and cries and came through the woods to see what was wrong. He's the one that got them broken apart before they killed each other. If he hadn't come running, ready to help, I'm sure I wouldn't have had these last few years with Charly.

When our new neighbors downstream actually began building a house, we lamented not having this whole section of the Hollow to ourselves anymore and worried about what it would be like living so close to people again! But the truth is, it's been a joy. (And it's not just because they gave us a ping-pong table and a set of drums they didn't want anymore!)

We discovered we have many things in common...Andy is a contractor and likes to play cribbage. Reba is many things...gardener, cook, artist...but also a writer (you can read some of her writings on Dog Canyon.) And bless their hearts, they are peacemakers, trying to smooth out all of the feathers that keep getting ruffled in our little corner of the world. They are friends with everyone...very forgiving...you just have to admire that.

"To love our neighbors as ourselves is such a truth for regulating human society, that by that alone one might determine all the cases in social morality." - John Locke

If only everyone else down here cared enough to understand that little nugget of truth...maybe we'd all truly be neighbors.

Sweet Kisses and Skipping

2009-12-16T20:46:18-06:00

Christmas is the season of joy, but it's easy to let that joy get buried by to-do lists, exhaustion and financial stress.

Yesterday I re-discovered a sure-fire way to bust that joy back out of the rubble...skipping!

I really have no idea why the notion to skip entered my brain, but there I was on our morning walk, returning from the bend, and something inside of me said SKIP! So I skipped.

Do you remember that scene when little boy Forrest Gump is running from the bullies ("Run, Forrest, run!") and his leg braces come loose and get left in the dust behind him? That's how it felt when I skipped...the to-do lists and the stress and the worries just broke loose and got left behind...once again, I was ten years old. At least for a little while, anyway.

I'm sure anyone looking on would have thought, That is one crazy lady! There I was, this fifty-year old woman skipping along the dirt road, with a guinea fowl and a giant German Shepherd trotting along beside me.

But it was FUN! Joyful! It made the gray sky disappear, made my heart feel lighter and brought a smile to my face! I skipped again this morning and plan to do it every morning from here on out, as long as I am physically able. (It's also great exercise!)

I told Tom he should try it at work when he's feeling frustrated, but he pointed out that it might land him on the "lay-off" list, and I guess he's right. They would think he had flipped. Perhaps there are times when skipping wouldn't help, after all...

Max enjoys my skipping, but I think Frankie's a little annoyed: he doesn't have as much time to snack on our walks anymore (I can move pretty fast!)

I can tell Max still misses Charly, so every morning I linger after he eats to cuddle him. He gives me hugs (he wraps his leg around my leg) and "sweet" kisses...little nibbles on my arm which sometimes result in tiny blood blisters, but he's at least trying to be gentle!

I know he must be lonely - Frankie is a chatterbox, but Max knows he can't even give Frankie "sweet" kisses, much less play with him. I don't see us getting a puppy any time soon, but then, we never know what's going to wander up out of the woods and adopt us. God might have another surprise visitor out there waiting right now for the right time to make an appearance. I'd rather let him pick out our puppy...or whatever...anyway. He always knows just what we need.

From a Certain Perspective

2009-12-15T20:32:10-06:00

We had two Christmas parties this weekend. Saturday night was so much fun and we stayed up so late, though, that it was hard to work up enthusiasm for our annual church dinner/dance Sunday night. None of our closest friends planned to attend and I couldn't help but wish we had bought tickets to the Daughtry concert instead. But we had tickets to the dinner (prime rib!) so we dressed ourselves up and went. We could always skip out right after dinner if we wanted to...

As it turned out, we were among the last to leave. The clean-up crew was blowing out candles and gathering up tablecloths while we took a final two-step around the dancefloor. The food was delicious, we made new friends with the couples at our table... faces we had exchanged smiles with at church, but never really gotten to know...and we danced! Tom made it all the way through the Cotton-Eyed Joe AND the Schottiche this time, and I represented my generation in several line dances.

Daughtry who?

Isn't it funny how your perspective about something can change so completely?

I've been pouring out my words and thoughts here on Long Hollow for almost a year and a half. That's so hard for me to believe! I wasn't sure what to expect when I started. It was a little scary - throwing them out here for anyone to read...very similar to how it felt reading my weekly compositions aloud so many years ago in my first creative writing class.

From the very beginning I was undecided about the "ads" issue on blogs - I avoided giving in to them, afraid they would be intrusive or look tacky...because, let's face it, sometimes they are and they do. But I also had to face the fact that if there was a way to make some money from my blog...even a few pennies...I needed to try. So I was very excited when the email came last week letting me know my blog was accepted into the Blogher network. I have no illusions of quitting my job anytime soon because of my blog income, but if I can make anything at all on this legal addiction of mine, I'll feel really good about it.

Perspective.

A friend sent me an e-mail yesterday about perspective. It was one of those that has made its rounds numerous times, kinda corny and wrapped up a little too neatly, about a wealthy father who takes his son out to the country "with the express purpose of showing him how poor people live". Upon their return home, the father asks his son what he has learned. The boy replies...

"I saw that we have one dog and they have four. We have a pool that reaches to the middle of our garden and they have a creek that has no end. We have imported lanterns in our garden and they have the stars at night. Our patio reaches to the front yard and they have the whole horizon. We have a small piece of land to live on and they have fields that go beyond our sight. We have servants who serve us, but they serve others. We buy our food, but they grow theirs. We have walls around our property to protect us; they have friends to protect them....Thanks, Dad, for showing me how poor we are."

Perspective.

I have friends who, in traditional ways, are wealthier than we are. Yesterday I found out they were having to say goodbye to their old puppy, but where we had the opportunity to be with Charly, to hug him and hold him so that the last thing he saw on this earth were our tear-streaked faces and the last thing he heard was "we love you", they had to say a quick good-bye and rush off to the hospital for a family emergency - a kind that they are all too familiar with. In that moment, I felt very rich, very blessed, very grateful.

Perspective.

A Day in the Mall, a Night in the Hangar...It Must be Christmas Time!

2009-12-13T18:10:00-06:00

A blanket of thick fog settled on our bit of the world yesterday evening - it made driving the hilly, serpentine roads out here pretty tricky! When we woke up this morning, we still looked out at a white world, but by mid-morning, when I fed Max and Frankie, it had lifted, leaving the trees and grass sparkling with dew and the sky so blue it seemed it had been scrubbed clean.

I'm glad it waited until today to clear up - yesterday was filled with shopping...in and out of malls and stores. This sky would have been wasted! Except for a walk with the guys right after Mass, I still spent too much time indoors today but I was always near a window where I could at least see the sunshine if not spend my whole day in it.

Last night we celebrated the Christmas season with friends in their airplane hangar/home...lots of food, music and faces we don't see often enough anymore. Before we knew it, it was 2 am!! We're feeling it today, even as we prepare for another Christmas party. I have a feeling we'll be slipping out of this one early tonight!

Me with the hostess Rachel...

Host Carl (far right) with his son, his Irish mother and her twin sister...

Carl arranged for a bagpipe performance in honor of his mom and their Irish heritage...it was awesome!

This band was fantastic! The Eric Tessmer Band...mostly played blues...Eric's fingers would turn into a blur on his guitar...they're the main reason we lost track of time! You need to keep an eye out for these guys...

Carl showing off his latest acquisition, an OV-1 Mohawk, a plane that flew in Viet Nam -an amazing piece of history...

"Count your age by friends..."

2009-12-12T00:37:15-06:00

After the outpouring of love and support over the past few days about Charly's death, I don't think I want to "count my age by friends"...I'd be really, really old! I know there will be days when the Charly memories hit me hard...I know there will be tears...but right now God has answered prayers and I feel a warm, fuzzy cushion all around me. I feel blessed because I had weeks to prepare myself for Charly's death and shower him in love and attention beforehand and I feel blessed because of all the friends who have stepped up with words of comfort.

I'm afraid if I counted my age by friends...oh, what the heck - I would just look really good for my age because it would be way over 50, that's for sure!

"Count your age by friends, count your life by smiles." - Author Unknown

This was the complete quote that my friend Stacy posted as her Facebook status this evening. It resonated with me...and not just because of the support we've received about Charly. I realized what a blessing Facebook has been in my life.

If my kids read my blog, they would roll their eyes right now. They still believe "old" people like me shouldn't be on Facebook. But over the last few months I have gotten to know people in a way you just don't have time for otherwise...both family and friends...people from past jobs and from around town that I don't bump into anymore...people from high school that I regret I didn't really know back then. (I've heard people say "If I wasn't friends with them in high school, why would I want to be friends with them now?" Well, I feel it's better late than never. For the most part, we've gotten over our angst and insecurities - we've grown up and can be our true selves now. And let me tell you...I went to school with some amazing people!)

One of the most rewarding aspects of Facebook has been reconnecting with people who were huge parts of my life and then, somehow, they just slipped away. How does this happen? Why do we let it happen?

One of those friends is Don. We became friends through church in junior high...briefly girlfriend/boyfriend but mostly brother/sister. We spent hours on the phone. We were best friends. Then we went separate ways...

But through Facebook and mutual friends we've become friends again. No...brother and sister again. I haven't seen him in person, but that doesn't matter. The years have been brushed away. (I admit, this is still the way I picture him, despite the fact that he's a grandpa now...this was taken on a church choir trip in 8th grade...)

It's a little bit of a risk when you come across a name from your past - will they remember me? If they do, what do they remember? Was I nice to them the last time we spoke? But being fifty is very liberating. I'm willing to take a chance and assume they remember me, and that they are as eager as I am to reconnect, and they'll forgive me for any past transgressions. If they're not, so be it. At least I tried.

Considering all of that, I have been blessed this week. Even as I mourned Charly, God put these other people in my path, people from my childhood...people I think of every time we drive down Washington to my parents' house. We turn onto Washington from Beltway...that's Vickie's house. And there on the corner of my block - that's where Guy and Gary lived...and the other corner - that's where Ricky lived.

I stumbled upon Gary first, on a page created for Deepwater people like me. He had posted something on there, and with his unusual last name, I knew it had to be him. Still, he was older than me...would he remember me? He did.

Then I saw Vickie's name...and then Ricky's. I remember that time we were dropped off at the Capitan theater...me, Vickie and Ricky (they're cousins)...and she was put in charge of us (she was probably 8, Ricky was 6, and I was 5...maybe) and she decided instead of watching the movie, we should walk to her aunt's house a couple of miles away through the heart and across many busy streets of Pasadena. Let me vouch for her...she got us across those streets and to her aunt's house safe and sound!

Today I "talked" to both Vickie and Ricky for the first time in close to 40 years, and it felt as natural as if we had shared that adventure yesterday.

Ricky...he was my first friend outside of my family...part of my earliest memories. We spent almost every day together for the first ten years of my life. And then we parted. I don't remember the last time I talked to him. How does that happen, that you are so close to a person, practically family, and then POOF! they're gone?

I guess you get to a certain point in your life when you grow apart. The connection you had never goes away...you remember the person, remember the times you shared...but before Facebook came along, chances were you would never see that person again - they would stay in your heart as memories, but that was it. In that way, Facebook is a pathway for miracles. And I'm so grateful for the miracles that have come my way this past year.

"It's no good trying to keep up old friendships. It's painful for both sides. The fact is, one grows out of people, and the only thing is to face it." - W. Somerset Maugham

I feel sorry for Maugham...I guess he didn't live long enough to see that you can grow back into people. I'm so grateful I have. But then, he didn't have Facebook. I'm so grateful I do.

(me and Ricky in his back yard...circa 1963...my house was the brown one two doors down, where the laundry is hanging out to dry...)

The Next Day...

2009-12-10T22:32:39-06:00

This morning I slept later than usual...I reset my alarm three times and finally just turned it off. Eventually, I remembered all of the things I needed to do before work and rolled out of bed, just as the sun was coming up.

I stepped through my morning routine, piddling with little tasks. I knew eventually I would have to step outside the door to take Max for our walk...I would have to face Charly's absence...and so I kept putting it off until I had to go - I was running out of time, but I owed it to Max.

So I did it - I stepped out on the porch and said "Let's go for a walk!" Max rose from his bed and came to me, whimpering. I scratched his head and said, "I know."

And then we walked. Frankie started off with us, but then went back to the house, like he did yesterday. But Max and I walked to the curve and back.

He was confused that we walked so fast. He disappeared into the woods and when he came back out, I was ahead of him.

It was different, this walk. I've spent so many years walking with Charly...even this morning, I felt he was there beside me. But even with Max beside me on the return trip, I felt a sense of loneliness. I think Max felt it, too.

On the return trip, I looped around to where we buried him, to check on his spot. I wanted to make sure nothing had disturbed it. I spent a few minutes there, thinking about those first walks with him, when we first got to really know each other after his fight with Chewy...when I had to walk him on the leash after his surgery. We'd follow this loop down to the pond, up the driveway and down the road a bit, going slow because of his injury. The fight had been a tragedy, no doubt about that. But out of it came this friendship that I will always treasure.

Today was easier than I expected it to be. I guess it's because I know we made the right decision - I wish we hadn't had to make it, but it was forced upon us. I loved him too much to watch him go down any further.

We've had many sweet messages from friends and they all truly help - even though we've been through this before, for some reason it helps to hear from others who have lost pets and know exactly what we are going through.

I'm trying hard to repress certain thoughts...like the fact that Max is already six years old, and a big dog...a very big dog...so we probably have, perhaps, four more years with him, if we're lucky. Four years will fly by.

And Frankie...how old is he? How long do guineas live?

No, I won't think about these things, except to remember to treat every day with them like it might be my last. I'll give Frankie his seed and talk to him because he's a chatterbox and so sociable...and I'll try to remember to brush Max every day, because he likes it, and to let him snuggle on me and give me "sweet kisses" even though they pinch and hurt like hell sometimes, because he's such an affectionate dog...and as much as I'd love to, I won't have him forever. Except in my heart, of course, with Charly.

Charly Dog

2009-12-09T22:28:49-06:00

Charly stopped eating last night. This morning he was too weak to go for a walk...even though Tom had the day off and would be joining us. So I stayed behind and petted him until Tom and Max returned, not wanting him to be alone.

I had hoped it wouldn't come to this. I had hoped he would go peacefully in his sleep before he began to suffer more than just the aches and pains of old age. But life can be sweet...and it can be sour...and there are times we don't get what we want. Given the choice of him suffering for days and dying while we were at work,(and it was obvious he was beginning to suffer), or drifting off to join his brother Chewy and his "Mama" Maggie while Tom and I hugged him and whispered how much we loved him...well, it was still a tough decision to make, but we chose being there with him.

So we made the appointment...the latest one possible. Tom spent his day off being close to Charly - much like I did on my day off last week. This afternoon Charly actually rallied for a walk, and I began to have doubts about our decision, until I watched him trying to make his way down the road, so painfully slow that I ached for him.

Back home I brushed him and brushed him...and then it was time.

It was over so quickly - there had only been a few strands of life left in him, but he was hanging on tight to those and I know it was because he was such an awesome dog, so bound to his duty of taking care of us that he couldn't, he wouldn't, let go, no matter what.

"A dog is the only thing on earth that loves you more than he loves himself." - Josh Billings

We buried him near Chewy's grave and marked it with a beautiful iron cross I had bought with the intention of placing it near the other pets' graves. I'm grateful for my procrastinating ways at times.

It was dark before we finished piling rocks on top of the dirt, to protect him from the grave-robbing varmints out there, and wandered back up to the house to let Max out of the laundry room. He promptly tucked his tail, laid down his ears and slunk into the dog house. Any other time, he would have gone looking for Charly. He knew.

I'm going to miss Charly, especially tomorrow morning. We've been walking together almost every morning for over six years. The walks before that don't count - they were leash-walks. Now we walked as friends connected by love and companionship, not leashes. I dread walking out in the morning and not seeing his big brown eyes looking up at me and that white tail wagging, hopeful.

Yeah, I'm going to miss him. Damn, he was a good dog.

In one of C.S. Lewis' books about Narnia - "The Last Battle", I think - he offers his idea of what heaven will be like - a bucolic place with green fields, lots of trees, clear streams...and animals or pets that have passed from this life. That image has become my own picture of heaven and in my mind now, I can see Charly, filled out like a butterball like he used to be, his ears flopping as he runs through the grass, playing with Chewy...

That helps a little. But I'm still going to miss my Charly.

Charly's baby pics...with brother Chewy...with "Mama" Maggie...

Last pictures taken, Thanksgiving weekend, with the boys...

Run and play in peace, Charly Dog.

I bet my "funny holiday road trip" story is better than yours!

2009-12-09T19:17:49-06:00

...and I'll even sweeten the bet with $200! Well, technically Blogher and Sprint will. I've partnered with Blogher to write for their product reviews program and the first assignment was to write about a funny holiday road trip.

That was easy...I wrote about the trip we took to my husband Tom's youngest brother John's wedding in Huatabampo, Mexico, at Christmas time in 1998...about how Tom and his dad changed our route at the last minute and we ended up crossing through Mexico's Sierra Madre mountains on twisty, curvy, pot-hole ridden roads in the middle of the night...the pitch-black night. You can read the complete story on Long Hollow Conversations by clicking here.

Blogher and Sprint are sponsoring a contest and the winner gets a $200 Visa Gift Card. (Confession...my story isn't eligible for the contest.) All you have to do to enter is share your own funny holiday road story in the comments section of my story, "A Feliz Navidad to Remember". You can read the complete contest rules there as well.

Well, what are you waiting for? (Good luck!)

A Two-Candle Week

2009-12-09T03:09:01-06:00

There are some weeks when lighting one candle just isn't enough. This has been one of them. So many of my friends and family - and my friends' families - are in need of prayer right now...from sickness, emergency hospitalizations or kids in trouble...they need our prayers for healing.

And then there are so many who are feeling the loss of loved ones during these holidays...they need our prayers for strength and peace.

It is also the week of finals for my kids and others...a week of stress and headaches and frustration, most likely...they need our prayers for determination, focus and confidence.

Today was a Holy Day of Obligation in the Catholic Church - the Feast of the Immaculate Conception. Despite deadlines and to-do lists, I was grateful for a chance to slip into the church tonight, to remember all of those needing extra prayer. And before I left, I lit another vigil candle. It just feels like that kind of week.

Please join me in offering up these prayers...