From My Heart

A Heart of Joy

2011-01-28T23:26:00.004-06:00

Sam is 34 today. He makes my world a brighter place. But it’s not only my world; it seems to be every life he touches. He enthusiastically shares his positivity with his family and friends and serves as motivation for more tangible change. He is always selfless and helpful; a constant reminder that we all could exercise a degree of control in a world that seems full of negativity and chaos. Positive control, positive actions for positive relationships. His middle initial could be P for positive…but it’s not, it's J for Joseph, or as I sometimes pinch myself…J for the joy he brings to my life.

A few of his nicknames:

My friend: SAM - U- eL
Me: SAM.BO
His late Grandma S.: SAMMY
Me: My Baylor Bear
A Friend: HAM
Me: SAM
College Nickname: Sam-I-Am

Our Song: I Was Country...Wasn't Cool. Barbara Mandrell (Yes, I know that is hard to believe)

Samuel Joseph...a shining light in my life, always. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, SON. 1.28.11

LETTING GO & SQUARING UP

2010-12-12T14:10:00.155-06:00

In the summer of 1962 my parents bought their first new home. It looked straight out of a catalogue, or so I was told. With 3 bedrooms, 1 bathroom (yes, that would ultimately care for 4 kiddos and 2 adults), I think my parents thought they were stylin'. Organization started for me in this little house which is my sometimes frustrating (to others) and many times referred to, frustrating character trait. "Squaring up" is what I call it. Making certain that my "things" are in place and my life is "squared up."

Placing a strip of masking tape down the middle of the bedroom that I shared with my little sister, Janellie (second from L.) made everything nice and neat. Being the oldest of the four, I chose the side closest to our closet. Little did I know that would cause a protest from this 6-year old. My Mama Rush taught me if you do two things your home would be presentable, even if you didn't agree. First, always hang up your clothes and second, make your bed. That has stuck with me to now. As a little girl, it didn't always keep that 10 x 12 room tidy, but we tried. If being organized was a character trait in the 60's, I didn't know about it or read about it...my reading was limited to mysteries and teen magazines. Now maybe if we had Container Stores (why didn't I think of that) it would have been helpful. In Texas City, we were lucky to have a little Mom and Pop five & dime store, Rock's. I learned the art of organization from having a small space...it was survival. A space to read, write and talk on the telephone for all of 15 minutes, my allowed time lest I be in big trouble if I chatted longer. There was no call waiting or voice mail and my Dad had his own business so no long talks on the phone for me. Besides, our one phone-house hung on the kitchen wall. I was always asking "please, Daddy can't I have a phone of my own?" But it was my space all the same.

A routine of organized cleaning wasn't my mother's cup of tea. It was, however, her mother's, my Mama Rush, who thought cleanliness was next to godliness. That being said, Christmas was the time my mother thought we should take a day from school vacation and clean out the closets. I always looked forward to those school holidays when we woud have a day designated to cleaning out and going to the church thrift shop with our goods. There were no garage sales or sidewalk sales...you just marched on down to the little shop and handed over your "stuff." With a clean and organized closet my life was squared up. Now, when my life feels a bit out of sorts I head to the closets and start the cleaning. Organizing my closets with clothes sorted and color coded...well color me happy!

Doesn't everybody color code their clothes and hangars? Okay, so maybe it's okay to just label your shoes for a quick get away in the mornings. Certainly helps me. It also helps to wear a lot of the same color...you know, just add a few pieces of color, here and there. I feel in control if my closets are organized. Oops, there goes that "control" word and it's not necessarily a "Like" word for me. I've been identified or labeled as a control freak for most of my adult life. I just happen to think that everthing one owns deserves a home, so...create a home for your "stuff."

I have a room dedicated for use as my art room. All my papers, scissors, photos, stamps, glue and glitter. I love my BABS room as it's name appears over the desk in big black letters. My stamps are lined up by category, just like at Michael's craft store. Some women love the aisles of Nordstrom's and Macy's but me...nope, I am happiest at DSW for shoes and Michael's http://www.michael's.com/ or Scrapbook Heaven http://www.scrapbookheaven.com/ for art supplies. Now, if only my mental closet, as pertains to my home, was as organized. I frequently have talks with myself, as well as a routine game of tug of war, with my heart about do I stay or do I sell? For some reason I decided that about age 55 (now past that date), I would sell my home and minimize my life. I was travelling in my job a lot and worrying about home, even more. How were the roses doing? Was the lawn looking green? And on, and on, the worry wart goes!

I see Brock about as often as his social life allows so I've decided "it's a stay" for now.

When the subject of baggage comes up in a conversation I always declare "I travel lightly!" A statement I make with pride from raising two wonderful sons who are now independent and successful and who, I just might add, live a minimalist lifestyle. Both quite organized and not about clutter. I mean...just look at this garage. Think my son learned the art of organization?

But with a little soul searching and internal housekeeping, I know way down deep that I, like just about everyone else I know, lug around a bit of emotional baggage. It's hard to let go and I know my life is filled with emotional "stuff", just like my orderly home may look neat but it's filled with material stuff that I just keep lugging around. My home is my sanctuary and I know that I hold on to possessions because it is part of my feeling of security. It's a place I WANT TO BE and a place I feel wants me. If I say that out loud does that make it okay?

So, from time to time, I ponder these thoughts. If I let go of my material "stuff" will that leave empty spaces within me...empty spaces that I might not know how to fill or "square up?"

We've probably all had the sense of letting go and then BOOM, within days, we need the very thing we were thinking of discarding. But I'm coming to the conclusion that if I don't let go of some of my "stuff" just because they are in their place, how in the world am I going to have room for the new "stuff"
to enter and become a part of my life...NOW?

With that said, my New Year's resolution is to "let go of some of the old in order to allow the new." Material stuff equals a temporary attachment (although some of my things have been around 35 years) but I want to make certain I have plenty of space new things to come into my life!

How wonderful would it be if every day we just leave our footprints? Putting things in their places as soon as they are used...wouldn't your home look nice and orderly? Would your mind feel a bit more squared up?

Give it a try...begin putting away everything that you touch today...leave only footprints!

"Take Only Pictures. Leave Only Footprints." ~ National Forests.

SECRETARIAT

2010-10-25T13:44:00.335-05:00

Barns, stables, leather, horses and the smell of oats and fresh hay bring back memories of my teenage and early adult years. While many of my friends find furry children of the smaller stature the ideal companion, I've always gravitated toward horses... big horses and when my Dad bought my second horse, the color red became a favorite. Big sorrel geldings are gorgeous creatures. Secretariat, an American Thoroughbred born March 30, 1970 with the heart of a champion, a dedicated non-human athlete, now some forty years later, has Disney telling his story to remind us all what a winner he was 37 years ago. I treated myself to the movie of this Thoroughbred Racing Hall of Famer(1998) and yet one more time he did not disappoint me or, from the teary eyes and chatter after the movie, anyone else. As I walked into the darkened movie theatre, I made every attempt to erase my memory of those exciting days over 37 years ago when I watched Secretariat take the spotlight on a small television screen to begin a journey with a winning destination that no horse the preceding 25 years had captured. He was running for a landing place in the history books that no horse as yet surpassed. It was a little difficult for me to detach emotions from the past with the historical facts, a lot which were left out, but it didn't dampen the spirit of the horse's story, nor the movie. Throughout the movie you could feel the bond between the owner and the horse - it was a powerful. As was said more than once by his owner, " I am his voice" when dealing with the ever engaging journalists who wanted an inside look into his life. All the while, she was gracious, articulate and eloquent. Diane Lane, who portrays Secretariat's owner, Penny Chenery Tweedy, with her emotional connection to the big red sorrel gelding who, in the early 70's grieving over the loss of her mother and not long thereafter, the loss of her father, Christopher Chenery set about, in a decidedly man's world, to take on the challenge of saving the family's farm, all the while multi-tasking a family of 5 in Denver. Her father, a graduate of Randolph-Macon College and Washington and Lee University was an engineer. He bought Meadow Farm, near Richmond, Va., in 1932 where Secretariat was born. Although records show Mr. Chenery as the official breeder of Secretariat, it was Penny Chenery who sent the family farm's mare, Something Royal, to be bred to Bold Ruler, twice. The filly, The Bride, was the result of the first mating and Secretariat was the second breeding, in 1969. A tribute to Washington and Lee University: The silks of the Meadow Farm were Royal Blue and White checkered.
The cinematography was superb and a huge success with it's creativity and angles. You could almost feel the thundering pounds of the horses hooves and the breath of these beautiful creatures as they pushed hard and fast to the finish line.
Secretariat was a 3-2 favorite over his competitor, Sham in the 1973 KENTUCKY DERBY and in his usual style, he broke last, moved up the track in the backstretch and pulled away to win the Derby by 2- 1/2 lengths. The records show a still-standing track record of 1:59 2/5 with Secretariat running each quarter mile segment faster than the one before. At the PREAKNESS STAKES, Secretariat made a huge, last-to-first move on his first turn, reaching the lead with 5-1/2 furlongs to go. Another win by 2-1/2 lengths, again with his competitor, Sham, coming in second. At the BELMONT STAKES there were only 5 thoroughbreds on the track for the Belmont Stakes on June 9, 1973. It is here where CBS announcer Chic Anderson's voice describes this historical race: "Secretariat is widening now! He is moving like a tremendous machine!"
Yes, Secretariat finishes his journey at the BELMONT STAKES, where he wins the Triple Crown.
Thank you, Disney, for bringing this personal story to the big screen. Thank you, Penny Chenery for your courage, perserverance and willingness to share. Thank you for allowing the unknowing to be a part of the suspense of this big red colt running away from the other horses as though nothing else mattered - he was in it for the ride.

TAKE A PEAK: http://video.yahoo.com/watch/7403736/19364387

Learning From the Little One

2010-09-06T11:43:00.002-05:00

On the assumption that I am now all grown up, when I spend time with my grandson, Brock, I wonder what can I share with him, even at age one? It turns out on my last trip to be with him, on a walk around the neighborhood, he was the teacher, even with the limited vocabulary of "Mama", "car" and "ball." With the beginning of a weather change, or at least all us south Texas folks are hoping for a change from the triple digits, it was a beautiful morning, sun shining with a breeze. Brock loves outdoors and has since he was born. I grabbed a bottle of Ozarka and sat him in his licensed wagon. He was ready to roll. As I pulled him out of his driveway, he pointed south. It was as if he knew exactly where the playground was and so south we headed in his little Step2 Wagon for Two http://www.target.com/wagons , with its hidden compartment, cup holder, safety belt, along with his little rattle toy, just in case he got bored. Not a chance. Even as a one year old, and with no preconceived judgments about the world, he was showing me how to just "be". He was to be the teacher...not me. It's one of those wonderful qualities of being a child. Not knowing there are deadlines, goals or stresses. He was full of curiosity about everyone and everything.

It seemed that every car that passed knew the wee one in the wagon. He was fascinated with the lady riding the motorycycle...all in purple. She stopped to chat for a moment and it appeared they were old friends. No sense of fear, but rather fascinated with the mindless chatter of an adult relating to a child who is totally unself-conscious but full of emotional expressions. Brock was teaching me a lesson. He was enjoying the moment and looking at things with an open-mindness, a sense of spontaneity, curiosity, and an absolute delight of the world around him that we as adults frequently are unable to tune into. As adults, we often times forget the playfulness that is there for our taking. The errands to the market, shopping to do, projects to complete and people to see...we forget about some of the more beautiful and simple things of life. We forget the joy and playfulness within each of us. As we made our way to the playground, there was a little girl and her grandmother playacting or being at the movie, serving popcorn and juice on the jungle gym she was using as a makeshift stage. Brock was totally satisfied to sit and listen, watch her every move and I realized that for just a moment, his world was a magical place, not knowing what that little girl (or her grandmother on the jungle gym) was going to do next. Seeing my grandson's delight and the simplicty of life, adds a sense of playfulness and wonderment that I've not experienced in a long time. Looking at it, that Saturday morning, the way Brock was seeing the world, certainly made me realize that nothing in life is as serious as it might seem. Enjoying that morning, integrating a sense of free spirit and a little fun, however, makes the world seem fresh and new...a new look at life and love and taking on a whole new attitude for all the beauty abound...through the eyes of a child.

Happy Friendship Day ~ Happy Birthday

2010-08-01T22:58:00.033-05:00

Today begins the sixth decade of my life. For years, I thought the BIG BIRTHDAY would be the No. 50 but the chatter leading up to this birthday turned into major conversation, early on. I am particularly fond of "Sixty is the New Forty." To reaffirm this, I started giving away birthdays on my birthday. When receiving a birthday wish, I said "Happy Birthday to You, too." My son, Sam, quickly said: "Mom's it's not my birthday, its yours." I said: "Oh, I'm giving away birthdays so I can go backwards." He didn't want it, nor did he buy it. It was a great birthday day filled with well wishes from family and friends with smiles, hugs and kisses from my beautiful grandson, Brock. There was Lauren's signature soup (thank you, Sweet One), a delicious steak dinner, brunch, beautiful photography from one of Sam's many travels, little painted handprints and Yellow Box shoes from Steven, Lauren & Brock, not to count my many birthday cards. Love them all. Facebook brought me about 50 birthday wishes...it was awesome. Through FaceBook and e-mail, I am more in tune with what's going on in my friendship world. It's like a late afternoon stroll in the neighborhood, but on the computer. I stop by for a visit with childhood friends, former co-workers, neighbors and I've even made new friends on Facebook from South Africa and VA. Its like I've known GG, Mary and Jane for years. The connection with old friends and new through social networking has been gratifying, particularly since I've learned the communcation rules of "netiquette"(and definitely when NOT to communicate) in order to stay out of the EMOL (Embarrassing Mom on Line) zone. Initially, I wasn't fond of Facebook. On Day One, I had no idea what to do with the Hatchlings or Eggs or whatever it was that my dear friend, Gaynell, was sending me. Problem solver that I am, I thought I had to DO SOMETHING, with every thing sent me. I was quickly tutored by Sam: "Mom, you don't have to do anything with them." "Just enjoy." I've come to love the Hugs, Hearts and anything else someone takes the time to send my way. It's a quick "hello, how are you?" Fancy Nancy is even my friend and you have to be a very young mother or a very hip Nana to know Fancy Nancy. http://www.fancynancybooks.com/ ~ Just like "Fancy", Nancy is a Fantabulous Friend! My life becomes so hectic and it's so easy to take friendships for granted, even the very best of them, but Facebook provides me the chance, when everything is quiet and calm, to spend a moment seeing what's going on in the world of those I care about. I've been blessed with wonderful people in my life and Facebook returns me to my childhood days, with Texas City friends and neighbors. I always knew what my neighbor, Sandee, was doing. Sandee was 2 years older than me and I thought she was the coolest kid on the block (well, except for the gorgeous guy down the street, Sonny; but hey, I was only 12, he was 15 and I adored how he called me "Mullet" when we played baseball. Well, he hit the ball and I chased it for him). Sandee could wear eye shadow, drive her Mom's car and she took me anywhere I wanted to go, within reason. I was a mere baby sitter for my siblings, Janell, Dwain & Karla, who I love dearly, but when I learned to drive I parked them in the floorboard of the backseat if they absolutely had to go somewhere with me. Sandee and I shared everything as giggly girls. We laughed together and fretted together over everything. There was a period when we disconnected and I wondered about her often. From 1968 until a few short months ago we were not in contact. Now via Facebook we are doing our best to catch up and stay connected. A bit later in "teenagedom" there was Phyllis, Jana, Gaynell, Jane, Cathy, Sue and what one didn't think of...well, the other did. I thought it was a LOT OF FUN when we all decided to go platinum pretending to be who...Marilyn Monroe? Well, Cathy, I don't think you were there that night and besides...who would want to change that beautiful red hair? All beautiful friends and all beautiful women. THEN and NOW.

Like other kids, we questioned who we would be and what we would be doing when we grew up and it seemed it wasn't happening fast enough. Now, I wish time had not gone so fast. I know I was always questioning my final stopping place in life. As I reminsce, I see the highs and lows and the ebb and flow of how my role has changed but always staying true to myself, no matter what the role. That has been the positive in my life. Just when I think I am settled in one role in my life...BOOM, it changes...for the better. I'm grounded in the truth of who I am and what my role in life is and I'm content. I've learned to take on the new role with enthusiasm and with FAITH that the new role will bring a fresh look at life and a better understanding of the lives of those I love and care about. Faith is important in family and friendships and it's an important part of shared trust. It is our unconditional loyalty that enables people we care about to know they can trust placing confidence in us and our word. If someone knows they can count on you during tough times, they know they can count on you when stressors are less but life events are no less important. Love you Jammie, and thank you for all the loyalty and listening you've done over the last 15 years :-). Hugs to you, Sallie, for all the tears you dried with unconditional love. Carol, you are so very special to me. You've stood by me with laughter and you were there during the losses.

It's easy to be drawn into spending time with a needy friend who demands companionship but drains you, emotionally and mentally. My choice...I pass. I believe friendship isn't something in your mind...friendship is your actions. It's not whether you are good or bad...it's what you do. It's about people changing, whether it's roles or attitudes. It's when that change occurs that you find a trust and connection at deep level with a friend. All the physical stuff isn't much to depend on, that's just surface. If you're trying to change someone...well, that's not friendship...that is coercion. I am grateful for all my friends no matter where or how they came into my world.

There are big ships and there are little ships. But the best ship is Friendship.

~Author Unknown

Happy Friendship Day ~ The 1st Sunday in August ~ US Congress, 1935

A Spring to My Step; Sunshine to My Heart

2010-03-18T00:56:00.006-05:00

My Little Sunshine who warms my Heart. Brock @ 8 months.

Through the Winter & Into Sunshine

2010-03-17T22:59:00.014-05:00

I am so ready for the sunshine and warm weather. Today I came home and my Mt. Laurel was blooming with a glimpse of the sunshine coming through. It was amazing and I wanted it to last forever. Mt. Laurel grown from a pod in 1995, now 3' tall and blooms :-) I realize for the not-native-born Texans this has almost been a Winter Wonderland with the below 30's temperatures and even snow at times. This winter has been a long period of darkness, lacking sunshine and I think everyone is ready for the temperature to warm with no more freezes. As for me, well, I'm from the Galveston area, I'm a sun baby. Bring on the 90 degrees + temperatures. The sun energizes me to move around outside and square up with Mother Nature once more. I've been gardening since I can remember. Always putzing with my Mama Rush in her HUGE yard, with her garden of vegetables, Dewberry vines, Tomato plants, Day Lillies, Hollyhocks, Pink Roses and Forget Me Nots. Mother Nature has always been good for my soul...Dirty Hands, Happy Heart. I have spent a lot of time in the library pouring through every book on South Texas shrubs and natives and taking classes to improve my gardening skills with Bob Wesbster at Shades of Green. It has helped my gardening and my adjustment from a very humid area (Galveston County) where you can grow ferns and oleanders (but oh no, don't try that in San Antonio, TX) to the almost every - year drought in South Texas. When the trees are green, their canopies trimmed to let the sun shine through and the newly planted bedding plants are blooming, all is well with my corner of the world. This past winter it felt like we would never see the sun shine but I realize we are quite blessed not to have blizzards roar in...I think they were calling them "snowicanes" or some such (snow + hurricanes) up east but as most of my friends and family know, anything below 70 degrees is freezing to me. During those (supposed) 282 sun-shiny days in South Texas (yep, I read up on the data when I moved here in 1995) we should all remember that even during the darkest days of winter the sun is shining somewhere to bring sunlight to others and it soon will shine on us. I grew my Mt. Laurel from a pod just like Bob Webster tells everyone on his gardening show every year. My gardens were neglected this past year save and except the weekly ritual of mowing and tidying up. Actually, my entire lawn was left to survive on its on while I worked and traveled 4 days a week but my Mt. Laurel has stuck by my side and it's showing off it's beautiful blooms in spite of the neglect. On a hill country drive, you can see Mt. Laurels in the middle of bare acreage and perhaps it is because they are such survivors that I admire them. This year is its second annual bloom as if to defy Mother Nature with her rain, sleet and snow to bloom in spite of the harsh weather and my neglect. It took on the erratic winter weather and said "Gotta Go With The Flow". "Go With The Flow". Hmmmm. I was recently told that I didn't "Go With The Flow". It was a shock to me when I think I do just that by navigating the choppy waters I travel in to get through my every day life; hectic, chaotic, and a bit of a frenzy at times. From the time I wake and throughout the day I show up, work hard knowing I'm not lazy (any more than the Mt. Laurel that bloomed in spite of the crazy weather) and do my best to blend my positive energy with those that may be procrastinators, lazy, not in attendance and generally just unmotivated. They seem to have trouble just getting by day to day with little happiness and definitely not spreading sunshine and happiness. Someone else's perception, of course... me "not going with the flow". My perception is that no matter where I am navigating in the waters, I am always willing to let go of my oars, throw over the baggage, change direction and be aware of the needs of others around me to help us get through the choppy waters safely and intact. I enjoy tapping into other people's sunshine and let them tap into mine. By doing that... BOOM we can take our energy and "Flow" with it, letting it take us where we need to go. But we're all entitled to our own perception. So like the Mt. Laurel, I'm going to continue to go with my flow, stand tall and make every attempt to bloom in the lives of others; hopefully, bringing a bit of sunshine along the way. May your spring be filled with the Seeds of Hope, Lots of Sunshine and Beautiful Blooms. ~ Babs

JANUARY 28, 1977

2010-01-28T14:28:00.008-06:00

January 28th is a special day to me and it has been since I was 24 years old and my second child, Samuel, (photo above) was born at 7:35 a.m. Today will be a day of celebration of his 32nd birthday. I am the proud Mom of this kind and thoughtful son who has grown into a successful and talented man. His skills and abilities continue to surprise me...I mean where did he ever learn to cook? Just his ability alone with the game Catch a Phrase declares everyone wanting him to be on their team. I'm not a gourmet cook and my kitchen has been closed since he started Baylor University except for one period this past year. Currently, his Facebook Friend List is at least 300...and I am referring to the most quiet student in his high school class. Perhaps Baylor University and the fraternity he joined helped him with that shyness...you think? Whatever it was that grew him into such an articulate and generous individual...well I am thankful. Sam's 9th's birthday was memorable but sad to many Americans and I don't even remember there being a birthday celebration that year. Sorry, Sam. Americans had traveled into space over 50 times in the previous 25 years and as happens too often, Americans became complacent with lift-offs. This was going to be different and many women were excited that Christa McAuliffe, a spirited high school teacher, was to be the first citizen to be lifted off into space. It was truly a celebration. I was at work in Houston early that morning and much like the JFK assasination, I remember exactly where I was when I heard that this new beginning was going to last just over a minute. Many of us at work were watching the launch in the conference room on a very small tv (this was 1986 after all) when anticipation turned into disbelief and then to horror and seven of our beloved astronauts with Christa on board disappeared into the Atlantic Ocean. It was 2 or 3 years before we were to fly into space again...grounded until the National Air and Space Administration was ultimately blamed by the government. It was a cold day and as I've researched, the O-rings failed, releasing a flame that caused the rocket's main fuel tank to ignite and the mission was no more. The Challenger was on it's 10th mission. No more celebrations for the Challenger. Just a few 1977 tidbits: Elvis died at age 42 (I remember exactly where I was when I heard that message) and I think my brother believes he is still alive and well in Memphis :). You could buy a bikini for about $8.96 and a BMW cost $8,000 with gasoline at 65 cents per gallon. Life as we know it...ever growing and changing. Happy Birthday, Samuel.

THE GIFT OF TIME by Beverly Beckham

2009-12-24T09:05:00.017-06:00

You can't wrap some presents in a box. But what if you could? By Beverly Beckham and http://www.grandparents.com/ The letter arrived a few weeks before Christmas, when my children were young. "Give Time to family and friends," it said. "Time is the ideal gift." The letter was referring to Time the magazine, of course, not the real thing. But what if you could give time, I wondered. What if you could wrap it in silver and tie it with a red satin bow and present it to the people you love? Fantasy. Pure conjecture. Yet wonderful to consider. I imagined collecting time, packing years in a box for a daughter then 14, who, when she looked in a mirror, saw all that she thought was wrong with her. Time would give her a peek into the future, of the woman she would become — bright and witty and beautiful. I fantasized about saving time for my son, collecting his boyhood and packing it away so that when he was a man and encumbered by a man’s responsibilities, he would be able to live again those days when life’s biggest problem was where to play baseball. I dreamed of freezing time for my youngest child, stopping the days from marching past, not for her sake but for mine. I didn't want her to ever outgrow my lap. To give time for Christmas. Would that we could. I'd relive this time: "Want to skip school today? Go to the beach?" My older kids say, "No! Are you crazy? It's December. It's too cold for the beach." But the youngest runs upstairs to get her shovel and mittens. We search for sea glass and chase seagulls. "I wish I could fly," she whispers dreamily. "But you might fly away and not come back," I say, hugging her. "No, Mommy," she says, hugging back. "I would never leave you." She did leave me, of course. That's what children do. This child who climbed on my lap has two children now. My son is a 40-year-old man with two children of his own. The then 14-year-old is a beautiful woman with a daughter of her own. And my husband and I are now doting, over-the-moon, let-me-tell-you-about-my-grandchildren grandparents. Give Time, the letter said. My grandchildren are 6 and 5 and 2 and nine months and I think that now, this time, is so perfect that there's no wishing it backward or forward. I'd wrap it in silver and tie it with a red satin bow if I could. To enjoy it now but save it for another Christmas, too. For this is the real gift of time — that it passes, but it also stays. That we can go back. That we never really lose what is gone. My grandson, Brock. 5 mos. Happy Holidays ~ Babs

GOOD THINGS...IN ABUNDANCE

2009-11-25T16:05:00.026-06:00

Thanksgiving, 2003 my Mother surprised our large family with a Circle of Thanksgiving... asking each of us to take a moment and give thanks. I'll never forget the thanks given by each member of my family. It was especially poignant because it was my Mother's last Thanksgiving with us. I miss my mother very much but Thanksgiving is especially difficult...she was the glue of our family and our Thanksgiving meal was a time we all came together for a wonderful day of grace and fellowship (well, most of the time). Her meal would usually feed at least 100. I never fully appreciated all the effort and energy she put into that meal until she was gone. I do now that I try, with great difficulty, to mimic her recipes or those of her mother or sister. I find myself, every year, calling my aunt, cousin and my sister asking "how do I do this and how do I do that", not to count the constant browsing of the internet to figure exactly how to do a special request. Listen up all mothers...write your recipes down today and pass them along to your children. They will be so thankful. I even cornered Ms. Rosa at work, not once, but twice to double check how to do the dressing. Thanksgiving 2003, Mother had each of us give individual thanks. It melted my heart to hear how each family member was thankful for the other and especially heartwarming to hear the gratitude my sons bestowed upon me and how I had impacted their lives. On morning talk show this week I heard a woman say that she was thankful for EVERY SINGLE day she put her feet on the floor and grateful there was a day to celebrate it with pumpkin pie, her favorite! So, as I start my day I will give thanks but for now, I want to express some of the things for which I am grateful. Things that I never want to take for granted...some that make my life a wonderful place, some that simplify my life and some that make my life run more smoothly. For all, I am grateful. 1. My sons, Steven and Sam. Steven, especially for finding Lauren the most beautiful daughter-in-awe and now wonderful new mother to my grandson, Brock...Daddy, is it Game Time, Yet?

Steven, Lauren and Brock. He's in there somewhere. 2. My family "back home." I wish we saw each other more.

3. My faith. It is always with me.

4. My health and the doctors who help me stay healthy. Dr. B., you are the best!

5. Crayolas, colored pens, glue, stickers and paper. I still love to cut, paste, stamp and glue.

6. The sunrise. "May the great mystery make sunrise in your heart." ~ Old Indian Saying Every morning on my way to work it's interesting to see the sun rise. On foggy days like this past week, it plays hide-n-seek with the clouds.

7. A good book and my fireplace. And then the good book that becomes a great movie.

8. The scent of my home and the coziness of my bed. My home is my safe haven.

9. Pink roses, my favorite!

10. Photos that capture so many moments, places, memories AND the friends who take them and share them with me.

11. Computers...and they keep getting cheaper, lighter and faster. Love my new screaming fast HP! Thank you, my HP son, for making the right one arrive here!

12. Mani's and Pedi's...thank you , Jenny.

13. My newly acquired taste for red wine, especially Conconan 2005. It's sooo smooth.

14. Baseball. It's the Sign of Spring.

15. Small mistakes. "Mistakes are a fact of life. It's the response to the error that counts." ~ Nikki Giovanni

16. Online bill pay. Though it is fun to see the little 5x7 envelopes arrive at work.

17. My "binky" for tired shoulders.

18. I'm grateful for Spellcheck...now if I can just master Excel!

19. The smell of new shoes, the look of new shoes, just NEW SHOES!

20. Matinee movies and eating movie popcorn WHEN the movie begins!

21. Chunky peanut butter. Smooth peanut butter. Organic, of course.

22. The smell of a new baby. I Love You Brock... Nana.

23. Falling into bed after a long productive day. "A well-spent day means happy sleep." ~Leonardo Da Vinci

24. Handwritten thank you cards. "Thou that hast given so much to me, give me one thing more, a grateful heart." ~George Herbert

25. My inner peace. "It is not how much we have, but how much we enjoy, that makes happiness." ~ C H Spurgeon

26. Oatmeal and brown sugar on Sunday mornings.

27. A "smize" from a little brown eyed girl, named Myla, who smiles at you with big beautiful brown eyes that gaze at you, hence; "Smize". At age two she warms your heart with those beautiful eyes and makes you proud with every new word and adventure. Myla's sweet kisses are treasured.

28. My happiness. "Most folks are about as happy as they make up their minds to be." ~Abraham Lincoln

29. My hairdryer. Whatever did we do without them. Maybe no swimming, PAnn?

30. My dependable, sturdy, reliable Yukon. We've seen so much together.

31. My iPhone. How did I ever function without it?

33. My feelings, my emotions, my heart. "Feelings are much like waves, we can't stop them from coming but we can choose which ones to surf. ~Jonatan Martensson.

34. My friends, near and far though it has taken me many years to learn the value of a good girlfriend...I've got it now and "it's a good thing." My friend, my neighbor...love you, Sharon. And my neighbors on Farmtown, too. It's been fun to reconnect with friends from my past on FaceBook because they have re-entered my present.

35. I'm grateful for headlights in my driveway...it means someone special is here to visit. Black vehicles have extra special meaning...

As I spend my Thanksgiving Day, I will take notice of all the abundance in my life, the good things in my life...the things that make my life run smoothly and how many small miracles happen throughout the day... a baby's laughter, extended families who love each other and create Hallmark moments, laughter and good food. I want to feel that moment of gratitude on Thanksgiving Day for the basic fact that one more time, the sun has risen, it brightens my day and it will hold me tight...safe and warm like a big hug. As Princess Diana said "Hugs are free, you can never have too many."

May All The Good Things In Your Life Be in Abundance! Happy Thanksgiving.

~ BABS

No Need for a Mask

2009-11-08T23:02:00.009-06:00

My first grandchild was born 7.3.09. His name is Brock Layne. At his birth, I had a lot of new feelings...new life, new chapter, what a miracle, but also the feeling of another identity for me. All my friends said I would be "ga-ga" and my whole life would change. I didn't feel that instantly like I thought I was going to. I did look at my son and think: "Way to go. Another home run since baseball has been such a part of our lives for 30 years." Brock is a beautiful baby...so beautiful that women all over the world will look at his long, gorgeous eyelashes and say "what a waste to give them to a guy." He's a handsome little fellow and I'm already in love and quite proud - with a definite turn to ga-ga! Brock Layne 7.3.09 It's a new role for me...this role of Nana. I've always felt my role in my family, usually that of "lead role" since I am the oldest of four children. It's a role that brings about a mask to a large extent. For the people I love and those that pass through my daily life, I've worn a mask for a long time and I'm wondering if the mask can now come off...now that I'm a Nana. Being the oldest of four, I always felt a bit of pressure about being the "good girl", the pleaser, doing the right thing and solving problems. Being a problem solver has helped me so much in my career (well, most of the time) but, unfortunately, on a personal level people really don't want their problems solved...they just want you to listen, be supportive and let them know you care. I'm learning that lesson late in life. This scenario plays out in a work situation, as well as with friends and family. Sometimes I have the mask on so tight and wear it so well noone seems to notice. But deep down, I know I am not free to simply be who I really want to be; hence, frequently I feel invisible. There is nothing inherently wrong with wearing a mask or playing a role. It's a natural part of any social dynamic and it can even be creative and fun. However, it becomes a problem when I feel I have no choice but to wear the mask and it's certainly a challenge if I feel I am without it. Do any of us know who we really are—a special beam of individual light—and have identified ourselves completely with a role. We may be the dutiful, caring daughter who keeps her parents’ dysfunctional marriage intact. We may be the dutiful wife who enables her husband to continue on a destructive path. We may be the cheerful daughter to a deeply depressed mother. Whatever the case, knowing the motivation behind the performance—the function of the mask—can help to cover the true face and identity. In my opinion, anytime we find ourselves behind a mask, it is an indication we are entangled in a dysfunctional dynamic in which our true self cannot be seen. Perhaps we've been placed in this situation for the purpose of our own healing and, in some cases, the healing of others. From this perspective, life can be seen as a series of situations that call us to remove our masks—gently, and with great compassion for all concerned—to reveal the beauty underneath. The role of Nana seems natural and easy for me and I see no need for a mask in my Nana role. Perhaps it is because this little guy expects nothing of his Nana, doesn't know my background of trials and errors and just latches his little finger to mine. As it's been quoted: "The moment they placed you in my arms, you were forever in my heart." Definitely for this precious one...no mask needed!

CATCH A FALLING LEAF...

2009-10-09T23:27:00.031-05:00

I awoke this morning to a rainy, stormy day thinking how glad I was that the changing of the season was blowing through in the early morning hours, rather than midnight with lightning and noise. It's been a long hot summer. Gov. Perry declared a drought disaster in February 2009 in all 254 counties. http://governor.state.tx.us/news/press-release/2515/ The period from May 1, 2009 through June 6, 2009 was the driest in Houston weather history with a paltry 0.65 inches of rain that fell over 57 days. Does .65 in. of rain ever even make it to the ground? No rain, barely a drizzle for my corner of the world, either over the last year. Yards are parched from the 100 degree plus days, absent a drink of water and my roses have never looked worse. After the recent heavy rains, the lawns are confused and the flowers are dazed wondering whether to go dormant or bloom and wait for the cold. I feel that same dazed and confused way some days..I've actually been in a store in San Antonio, run into someone from work (out of town) and wondered: "Which store am I in, where am I?" Dazed and confused is not a state that I like to be in...nope, much to the chagrin of many, I usually have a plan and little room for change. Somehow the trees and flowers know that change is on the way. Routine is the ritual and nourishment for my soul...like the rain and sun Mother Nature provides. Cold- blooded All American Girl that I am, in anticipation of a temperature change and not liking that change at all...I'm a sun-baby, I turned off my air conditioner and no, I didn't open any windows. I was perfectly comfortable at 5 a.m., snug as a bug, as my grandmother would say, at 78 degrees in my house and that didn't bother me a bit. I'm under my comfy, it's raining outside and all is well with the world. Not one to doze back to sleep, I did reflect a few moments to listen to the rain pouring down on the lawns, like a long shower, leaving all the plants happy in their thirst quenched stupor. We had 4-5" of rain the week before so it was definitely a case of "watch what you wish for." There were flash flood warnings on the radio and alerts of more rain to come. Sunrise was upon me and I knew the day would bring about rejuvination and newness and there was definitely a change of plans. Well, rain or shine I knew I had to get to the AT&T store to change out a phone that the Coach ran over at the baseball field...cells phones and riding mowers do not go together well! I like that about new days...Things may change whether I like it or not, and friends may leave, but LiFe doesn't StOp for AnYbOdY! A clean start, a new slate, a new day to color on my canvas, though my days don't change much from day-to-day. Not even on the week-ends. Today I was ready to move ahead, take on the world, tackle my "to do list" as it waited patiently for me on the counter downstairs where I put it to bed every night, not thinking about it until I pick it up when I'm heading out the door. At 5 a.m. week-days, I'm energetic and enthusiastic...if only that energy and enthusiasm would stay with me all day. What a gift that would be. Nope, here comes the rain...scratch the list...new plans. Today is a day where being "rigidly flexible" as I have been described, is a good thing. An Indian Summer Day in South Texas with the sun shining after the rains and back in the 90's wouldn't surprise me a bit. I hope not, for the lawns' sake, the roses and even the trees that will shed their beautiful leaves in preparation for a nice long winter's nap. I frequently ask "why didn't I plant all evergreens", especially as I clean leaves out of the pool. Here you see...roses looking BaD! Flowers ThIrStY! WEEDS, WEEDS, WEEDS! Ugh! Most Thursday afternoons I have the same conversation with my trusty lawn helper that I've had for 13 years: "Why isn't there some device we can use to shake all the leaves off at once and be over with this anyway?" He just laughs and goes on about the business of mowing with music plugged in his ears. No, this morning was a tease...by Mother Nature of the chilly days ahead. Chilly and Beverly...two words that do not go together. Most days you'll find me with a sweater wrapped around my neck. Some people think I'm going for a "look." Wrong...it's for cold stores where I shop, movies and restaurants or on a trip. See Albuquerque in August above...sweater, just in case! A quick over the head goes the sweater and off goes any "look." It's not a look, it's just a little nurturing of my chilly bones to make a quick stop in a cold French cafe a little more cozy when sitting by the fireplace sipping a nice wine. Above: Traveling in the Sonoma Valley, CA., in the Fall at the Sauvignon vineyards with a sweater. A beautiful place to visit. http://www.sonomacounty.com/ The Case Ranch Inn, Forestville, CA. The bed and breakfast with hot tub: www.bedandbreakfast.com/california-forestville-case-ranch-inn Another story, another day about "chilly" in California in the Fall. Yes, Fall is arriving in South Texas. It's the changing of the guard as Summer teasingly slips away, Autumn is at our doorstep and here arrives the Master Artist Himself...with all the brilliant colors He has to brush our world with. I love the colors of Fall, especially orange. I admit I like orange and black since they were my high school colors (I know, I know..."yuk"...but they were ours) but it's in the Fall that the little orange pumpkins arrive in the church parking lots and children wander up and down the rows looking for that perfect pumpkin to carve. In keeping with tradition, I'll pull out my crafty, not real- from- the- pumpkin patch, pumpkins, for the porch, PLUS one more this year for Brock and up goes the Autumn wreath. Thus begins another chapter, another season to watch unfold...wondering...do people mirror the trees I see change? Do people go through their own seasons and change? I know I do... even not liking change... but accepting it as best I can. I've watched the trees I planted over 12 years ago root their way over and around rock, growing tall, cracking rocks and all in their effort to establish their roots and grow, in order to change with the seasons. Aren't we the same? Always searching for creative ways to go over and around the obstacles we hit in our journey of life? CATCH A FALLING LEAF AND MAKE AN AUTUMM WISH...HAPPY AUTUMN, HAPPY FALL, GOOD BYE SUMMER...

Little Charmer Post Offices

2009-08-30T09:47:00.025-05:00

I’m a talk show junkie. I’m addicted and I know it. Those close to me know I prefer to listen to the local, and sometimes not local, talking heads. As pertains to television, I’ve been known to watch the weather channel as opposed to watching favorites as Sopranos or Law and Order. In fact, I’ve never seen one episode of either. The weather is a mystery and the news is all too often, entertainment. Errands are done during the 1-4 p.m. segment of the Dave Ramsey show, http://www.daveramsey.com/ for all his wealth (no pun intended) of knowledge. Bob Webster, a local Master Gardner, is one of my favorite local Saturday morning shows and I’ve been known to disguise my voice as a call- in for advice on my gardening questions. He knows everything from dirt, bugs, plants, vegetables and even pets. Weekly morning drive begins at KTSA with Trey Ware and Brent Boller as my early morning, regular companion station, for two reasons. Trey Ware, with his Morning Edge show, has a firm, but gracious manner of disagreeing, or at least agreeing to disagree, without rudeness or obstinance as he filters through quite a variety of other's opinions. I always learn a new word with Brent’s extensive vocabulary though I resort to scribbling a word down quickly to find meaning in my dictionary when I reach my destination. They are on air 5:30 a.m. – 10:00 a.m., http://www.ktsa.com/ and when I’m headed out for my travels early, the last thing I want is elevator music or rock and roll. No, I’ll take the rock and roll a bit later in the day if music is my mood. I’ve been encouraged to listen to music, as opposed to talk shows, so my day begins “not so intense” or at least in a more relaxed mood. I don’t think a soft edge; relaxed mood will serve me well walking into the daily operations of a multi-specialty medical clinic that cares for many sick and injured folks in the community. No, I need my mind alert and my wits sharp. Listening to friendly bantering on the drive gives me the “need to know what’s going on in the world” feeling combined with the ongoing question of where are we in this crazy world of economics and the incessant question of when will this recession be over and people can begin to relax, enjoy life, take vacations and feel secure in their jobs. When I was a pre-teen, my mother’s brother always appeared, at least to me, to be secure in his job as a U. S. Postmaster in my mother’s hometown of Arcadia, TX. Arcadia, is located along Highway 6 in northwest Galveston County, and was established around 1889 near Hall's Bayou on the Gulf, Colorado and Santa Fe Railway and named for Arcadia, Louisiana. The townsite was laid out by Henry Runge in 1890 and originally named Hall's Station. It included land for a school and a public park. The post office was founded in 1891. Several churches were organized in the 1890s, and in 1892 the White Horse Inn was built to impress prospective land buyers. The site of Arcadia was on Stephen F. Austin's fourth land grant. The area had been occupied by the Coco Indians and explored by Álvar Núñez Cabeza de Vaca. By 1900 Arcadia had a population of 168, and in 1907 its school had eighty-nine pupils and two teachers. The town grew to 300 by 1920. Dairying became the town's largest industry and during the 1920s the Arcadia Creamery was founded, and the Farmer's Cooperative Feed and Grocery Store opened. In 1947 Arcadia had a post office, part of my family, 2 uncles, Lynn and Leon, my aunt, Mary Helen ("my Tis") and my mother, Joyce, the children of my grandparents, Fred and Annie Rush and ten businesses, with a population of 275. By the 1980s Arcadia was within the boundaries of Santa Fe, an incorporated town. My Uncle Leon worked in the town post office that was connected to an old house. It still stands in Arcadia…well, the building is intact but it is now a non-denominational food pantry and resale store. The post office that his daughter, my cousin Chris, remembers was connected to the still standing house. She remembers a husband and wife owned the house and that it was a food and dry goods store. The husband was the postmaster and he added a stucco attachment as the post office. His sister Ms. Maude, as we all called her, ran the store. When he retired his wife became the postmaster for 25 years and my Uncle Leon was the Assistant Postmaster. In 1969, my Uncle Leon became the postmaster having been through the era of mail being delivered by the train hanging the mail bags out for the town post office until 1958 when mail was delivered by trucks. I still remember my Uncle Leon coming across those railroad tracks to his mother's house (our Mama Rush, Annie to some) for lunch, and to chat a bit about what was going on, who he had seen and talked to, gave us all hugs and back to the post office he went. It didn’t seem like it was a stressful job but no doubt he saw many stressful times, especially in 1969, for all Americans. Fast forward to 2009, postal officials have now released a list of nearly 700 post offices in metropolitan areas that are being considered for possible closure or consolidation by the Independent Postal Regulatory Commission. According to the news, some post offices could be closed entirely but others may remain open and provide limited services. At first I did not hear it was in metropolitan areas and began to photograph small town post offices and watch the comings and goings of the folks as they walked in and out of these rather unique buildings. None of the post offices I took photos of are on the closure list but do enjoy the photos and little stories.

Hobson, TX 78117 The sun comes up behind this little post office (more times this summer than we San Antonians would like) on Hwy. 181 and Farm Road 81 near Indian Crossing on the San Antonio River. The post office was established in 1898 and it's population peaked in the early 1950's to 175 but in 1990 the town composed largely of Czech, German and Polish descent reported a population of 135 and it has remained that number to present.

It's the large cities like El Paso, Ft. Worth and Dallas that are targeted for closure with less than 20 in Texas. Travelling my journey every day didn’t stop me from taking a few photos and chatting with folks about their local post office and listening to their stories. As I’m usually asked when taking photos of schools, churches and other buildings, this was no different. “Are you from the newspaper?” I guess there’s something about a woman in a suit carrying a camera that conjures up images of being in the news.

Tuleta, TX 78162

Don't you just love this quaint little post office address, 123 Main, Tuleta, TX. I think it's blue wooden siding and aluminum window coverings should place it in nomination for one of the more "down home" post offices. If there was a coffee shop nearby I can attest that it would stay busy all day long. It took me 15 minutes before the daily flow to pick up the mail slowed enough to get a frontal photo without a car out front. Tuleta is on State Highway 181 twelve miles north of Beeville in north Bee County. It was founded by Peter Unzicker, a Mennonite minister, who brought a colony of Mennonites from Cullom, Illinois, in 1906. Unzicker, a German, purchased 54½ acres of land from the Chittum-Miller ranch for the townsite, which was named for J. M. Chittum's daughter. The San Antonio and Aransas Pass Railway was built across the ranch in 1881. The depot opened in Tuleta in 1906; the following year the post office opened. The Mennonite church, built that year, was used for school on weekdays. In 1910 Amanda Stoltzfus organized the Tuleta Agriculture High School, the first of its kind in Texas; its faculty came from such prestigious institutions as Smith College and the University of Wisconsin. Mrs. Stoltzfus, the principal, offered instruction in sewing and cooking for girls and manual training and agriculture for boys. The school had dormitories for boarders. Tuleta once had three churches-Mennonite, Presbyterian, and Baptist-of which only the Baptist remained in 1990. Among the early businesses were Stoltzfus Mercantile Company and Gin, Unzicker Grocery and Grist Mill, Dirks Brothers Lumber Yard and Garage, Speer's Coffee Shop, the Rapp Hotel, and the Hall Hotel. Oil and gas were discovered west of Tuleta in 1929, when the population was 150. Several oil companies were still in operation in 1990, as were a grocery store, a water well service, and a community center. In 1989 its population was 189. In 1990 it was ninety-eight. The population reached 292 in 2000.

Edna, TX 77597 I travel from Beeville, TX to Angleton, TX occasionally and pass this more modern, brick and mortar post office. It hasn't always been quite this styled but has a colorful history. Edna is located on Hwy. 59, otherwise known as The Houston Hwy. Edna is exactly 100 miles (160 km) south-west of Houston, Texas and 120 miles (190 km) north-east of Corpus Christi, Texas. Edna, the county seat of Jackson County, was established in 1882 when the New York, Texas and Mexican Railway line was built from Rosenberg to Victoria and bypassed Texana, Texas then the county seat. Construction of the railroad began in September 1881. Edna was laid out on land owned by Mrs. Lucy Flournoy, who conveyed right-of-way and a half interest in the townsite to the railroad, which was promoted and built by Italian Count Joseph Telfener. The town was named for a daughter of the count. The NYT&M, nicknamed the "Macaroni," was constructed by Italian laborers, most of whom were brought from Lombardy by Telfener. After completion of the road, the majority of the crew remained in the area and established homes. The first train arrived on July 4, 1882; the first merchant was Gideon Egg, who moved his general merchandise store from Texana in 1882, and the first child born in the new community was Edna Louise Traylor. In an election of January 22, 1883, residents voted to make Edna the county seat in place of Texana. The contract for a new courthouse was awarded on February 11, 1884. A post office opened in 1886.

Normanna, TX. 78142

As the story goes, the history of Normanna can be told in a pecan shell. The area had been a Mexican land grant back in 1831. In 1874 it was named Walton Station after Sheriff D.A.T. Walton. Norwegian immigrants moved into the area in 1893, and formed the nucleus of their colony just 2 miles from Walton. When the postal authorities rejected the application for a post office under the name Walton, Normanna was submitted and accepted.The name loosely translates as "the place of Norsemen" but closer to the true meaning is "far North." Seeing that's where they were from, the name was appropriate. Families descended from the original Norwegian settlers still live in the area. Normanna has a museum in a building that has served as ranch headquarters, a hotel and a residence.

Pettus, TX 78146

Pettus is at the junction of U.S. Highway 181 and Farm Road 623, fourteen miles north of Beeville in northern Bee County. It was called Dry Medio from its first settlement in the 1850s until the Civil War, when it came to be called Pettus City in honor of John F. Pettus, one of the most prominent of the area's early settlers. In 1886 J. S. Hodges sold a right-of-way to the San Antonio and Aransas Pass Railway and donated local streets. By 1914 the town had a reported population of 250 and five general stores, Baptist and Christian churches, a cotton gin, a blacksmith, a lumberyard, and a physician. Oil was discovered near the town in 1929, and in 1933 Pettus reported 300 residents and eighteen businesses. In 1990 it had an estimated population of 400 and thirteen businesses. The population grew to 608 by 2000. This is a friendly little post office located across from the very local Dairy Queen and everyone that walks in seems to know everyone that walks out. At least thats my observation from waiting a bit to take a photo absent of any cars! A little trivia for Fancy Nancy of Pettus, TX. There are 6 more males than females in the fair town of Pettus, TX.

BERCLAIR, TX 78107

I caught this little blue and white charmer on my way to Angleton last month with a 90 year old out front...and he was not hesitant to let me know his age. As usual, he wanted to know if I was with the newspaper. Nope, didn't even look large enough to me to have a newspaper. But when I told him I was collecting photos of small South Texas post offices, he wanted to be in the photo. Well, I declined telling him that "no one person is going to be in the photos...just the buildings." Nothing doing, he wanted to take a photo of me since I was the brightest thing to come along to Berclair in a "spell", he said. Here I am wondering where the nearest sheriff is "just in case." Actually, if I didn't make it to Angleton by 8:00 a.m. on the scheduled morning, I think the crew of Dawn, Carole, Cheryl and Mary Helen, led by Jammie, would be out on the highway tracking me down! Now, a little about Berclair, TX.

Berclair, is on U.S. Highway 59 sixteen miles from Goliad in southwestern Goliad County, was established as a shipping point on the Gulf, Western Texas and Pacific rail line to serve an already well-populated ranching area. On December 10, 1889, Joseph Blackburn paid the railroad company $100 as a bonus for building through Goliad County and donated right-of-way through the southern corner of his ranch. A post office was established in 1889, along with a depot and stock pens. A hotel built at the site in 1887 to board the railroad workers later accommodated passengers from the daily train between Victoria and Beeville. In 1892 Berclair had a steam cotton gin, a saloon, a weekly newspaper called the Blossom, and eighteen other businesses serving an estimated 200 residents. For a while the Baptist church building was used by other Protestant groups, but by 1914 Methodist and Catholic churches had been built. The population and number of businesses declined in the early twentieth century; the saloon was closed by local law in 1910. Ah, so there is local law enforcement...maybe I should do police stations or sheriff's offices, next. And so the story goes...by the 1920s, however, about 300 people were living in Berclair, which had twenty businesses and was designated a banking town in 1929 and 1931. The number of businesses began to dwindle; the population remained stable for a while at 350, until the 1970 census recorded a decline to sixty-one residents and two businesses. Berclair was named either by the railroad surveyor after his home in Virginia or after the given names of Bert and Clair Lucas, owners of a nearby ranch. In the mid-1980s the settlement still supplied surrounding ranches. In 1986 the post office served sixty-one residents. In 1990 the population was seventy. In 2000 the population grew to 253.

Falls City, TX 78113 ...Need to check out the natural falls...thought that was made up!

Falls City is a mile southeast of the Wilson county line and seven miles northwest of Karnes City in northern Karnes County and owes its development to the railroad. Two earlier communities, Marcelina and Home Valley, had been located in the vicinity in the 1850s and 1860s, but people were not induced to settle the area until 1886, when the San Antonio and Aransas Pass Railway built a switch and depot called Brackenridge, named after railroad benefactor George W. Brackenridge.qv To provide postal service for the settlement that developed, the post office of Skiles was established a mile west of the depot in 1887. On November 28, 1893, it was moved closer to the tracks on the east side of the river, where it was consolidated with Brackenridge and renamed Falls City, after several nearby natural waterfalls. On June 25, 1893, a train robbery at Brackenridge resulted in the only hanging at Karnes City, the new county seat. In 1895 Falls City had one general store, a post office, two saloons, a lumberyard, a hotel, a depot, two livery stables, and a steam mill and gin. The principal place of business was the Schulz Mercantile Company, which operated in a large brick building until it burned down in 1935. The site was later occupied by the Falls City National Bank. A number of people from Panna Maria and Cestohowa moved to Falls City, where they could receive the benefits of a railroad. As a result Falls City became a predominantly Polish-American settlement. In 1902 Holy Trinity Catholic Church was erected; a parish school opened in 1911. In 1924 the Columbian Hall was built for the Knights of Columbus; it was replaced by the Falls City Community Hall in 1983. In 1931 a new Catholic school, built for $4,000, enrolled 100 students. In 1938 a public school was built, and a high school was added in 1950. Polish-American farmers east and west of the town did most of their trading at Falls City, which incorporated on September 28, 1946. The discovery of oil helped the town to grow. After the discovery of uranium in 1958 near Tordilla Hill, ten miles west of Falls City, uranium mining and milling developed. In the mid-1970s the town was seriously divided over the uranium mines, which were said to contaminate the land and water. Businessmen wanted the mines to continue operation, but farmers did not. The conflict continued in the 1990s. By 1993 the uranium activity, except for a multimillion-dollar reclamation project by federal authorities, was all but over. In 1993 Falls City had a mayor-council form of government and a population of 478. In 2000 the population was 591.

As to the recession and its impact on my postal box and contents, the only change I see at my local station is that every few years the delivery to boxes goes up by 30 minutes. When I first switched to a P. O. Box, the sign said "all mail will be up by 8:30 a.m." I believe the scheduled deadline is now 10:30. So it's longer for the mail to go up, maybe not quite as much junk mail but still my fair share of brightly colored fliers and a few coupon packets stuffed in the box for me to sort through before leaving the post office. Many times I’ve wondered why they don’t put shredders in the lobby instead of overflowing trash cans. Probably afraid someone will get hurt or the shredder will take legs and walk. While I still receive the junk stuff, there has definitely been a decline, in my opinion. I suppose the the rise in shipping costs (higher gas prices) that junk mail is at least, partially, on the downhill slide. I still get the Victoria’s Secret catalog and L.L. Bean but I honestly don’t know why because I’ve never ordered from them. Other businesses that are still doing junk mail are no doubt reducing the size of their catalogs and we’ve certainly seen the reduction in the size of newspapers. I think those are definitely signs of struggles but the positive is we have less paper wasted, less trips to the recycle bucket to be lugged to the street and back in again every week. Unfortunately, these reductions and cutbacks results in a struggling United States Postal Service. It has raised its rates again but it still made $200 million less from junk mail than it did in 2007 and there’s no doubt it will be harder hit in 2009. The reprieve from overstuffed mailboxes will probably end as the economy revives. Marketers say catalogs, pamphlets, and flyers remain among the cheapest, most effective ways to pitch products and draw new shoppers to stores. Personally, I like to order off the internet and have it delivered to my door and receive a real card or letter in my mailbox. There’s nothing more personal than a handwritten note from family or friends and if I’m lucky a little something inside, like a photo, to treasure and make my day. Hoping you receive Good News in your mailbox and that you've had a Safe and Happy Labor Day, September, 2009.

BOOK OF LIFE

2009-07-20T23:40:00.017-05:00

Though I try not to look back, but rather stay focused looking forward, when I do reflect, I look at my life in “Chapters.” Child Chapter, Teen Chapter and from Teen Chapter straight on to Marriage Chapter…bookmarked for about 6 years then on to Parent Chapter. It took one look for me and I knew that once I was a parent, it would be a forever chapter in my life. My identity was quickly wrapped around being a Mom, the best Mom I could be, and it was a role that suited me with pride and pleasure, far beyond my expectations. Perhaps I thought Parent Chapter would remain static but Parent Chapter, Part I First son, Steven, was followed 22 months later with Parent Chapter Part II, Second son, Samuel.

SAMUEL JOSEPH SEBESTA, SON TWO

I knew these chapters were going to be good long “reads.” As soon as First son completed a phase, he quickly moved on to his next phase with Second son right behind him moving through his new phase. So, while I remained in the same Chapter, my parental role continued to evolve and transition into subchapters. My feelings about these transitions of the boys, inching their way toward independence, would occasionally bring temporary bouts of feelings of loss and a sense of emptiness, a feeling that is ongoing but intermittent with great moments of love, awe, joy and pride, sprinkled with a lot of love. I am proud of their achievements from their first baby steps, to the first day of kindergarten, to the start of college, but off and on I have these feelings of closed chapters and chapters I selfishly want to bookmark. Looking back, I knew that dwelling on these feelings was not a positive reaction to their growth and accomplishment but even when friends would console me, I had the feelings all the same. But as happens to all of us, life throws out the curve balls …divorce, death of loved ones, disappointments, career changes or moving to a new city…thus beginning more subchapters. Throughout the chapters there were times when I felt free because I would see the boys gaining their much strived for independence and celebrate those moments of independence but those times and feelings of celebration were combined with “they don’t need me anymore” feelings. It had become customary for me to be the person to be viewed as the one that could fix anything and to be needed but I would get lost in these chapters not realizing that I was losing my own identity. Keeping a mirror on my own identity, without wrapping it around another person, or a career, has been a struggle and continues…an individual work in progress.

THE THREE OF US, SAM, BEVERLY & STEVEN

There was just the three of us for so many years that when the nest emptied, with my boys graduating from college, I had to work extra hard not to inject my life into their newly created lives…their independent and individual lives… after all, that was the very thing I strived for and worked to give them. I wanted each to have a life that was not mine to live and certainly not to control. On a road trip recently and feeling a might sorry for myself because there was the feeling of “nobody needs me” was playing over and over in my mind, I realized that my wanting to make decisions and “control” was an indication that I didn’t trust them with their own decisions. It was a moment that began (didn’t resolve it totally) to be a turning point in all this “loss” feeling. I know I helped them to learn to make decisions and live with their decisions…why did I feel the need to hang on to their lives or try to control their lives. I don’t…it’s that simple. All the same, I occasionally find myself not feeling needed and then just as soon as that feeling passes, a new chapter has inked itself right into my Life Book…Advisor chapter. This chapter, the Advisor, where I no longer find myself as a guidance counselor/disciplarian but more of an Advisor/Friend has actually been a freeing experience with a new beginning...a beautiful New Beginning straight from Heaven.

BROCK LAYNE SEBESTA 7.3.09

A new Chapter added to my Life Book and who created a New Book came into our lives on July 3, 2009 at 6:25 a.m., weighing 7 lbs., 1 oz., 19” L.

First son and my lovely daughter-in-awe have been blessed with this gift from God.

STEVEN & LAUREN SEBESTA, new parents.

This little bundle from heaven, Brock Layne, was named after his Dad, Steven Layne, who was named after his Dad, Terrell Layne. A New Book of chapters begins for these new parents and My Book with all it's chapters continues... with many subchapters that I find I can’t wait to turn the pages and enjoy. As a new Nana, (Nana, as in “Nana Banana” as my cousin coined me affectionately) I am learning quickly (though it wasn’t immediate) our children need us all along the way but at different times and in a different ways. I plan to embrace this new chapter and look forward to more new chapters where we three, plus two, will have deeper and more mature relationships for years to come. What a great read. I’m not putting this book down but every now and again and then only for a hug or two.

Love,

Babs, now known as Nana

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY

2009-05-09T13:31:00.014-05:00

Today is a bittersweet day. It’s the birthday of my little sister, Janell, my “Janellie” as I affectionally call her, and the 5th anniversary of my Mom’s passing. My Mom, Joyce Rush Bishop, ( 8.27.33 – 5.09.04) passed away on Mother’s Day, Janellie's birthday, May 9, 2004, late on Sunday evening. My mom and me...she had all the Indian features...me, not so many. That Mother's Day, like so many before, she was surrounded by friends and family that loved her, including my two sons, but I was in LaGrande, Oregon… way in the mountains on business. Her first born, independent and far from home chasing a dream…but that’s how she wanted me…believing I could do anything I dreamed. When I left her that week in the hospital, I flew to Oregon believing she was going to surgery, would be fine and out of pain when I returned. But neither my beliefs, nor her talented surgeons, could fix her broken heart. It was Mom’s time to be with her Lord and Saviour. At her services 5 days later, I told all her friends and family what a "worry wart" she was. They chuckled because they knew. I told them she didn't think anybody would be there that day... and as I looked around at standing room only, with the room filled with beautiful flowers, I read this poem for her:

Don't grieve for me, for now I'm free I'm following the path God laid for me. I took His hand when I heard him call; I turned my back and left it all. I could not stay another day, To laugh, to love, to work or play. Tasks left undone must stay that way; I’ve found my place at the close of day. If my parting has left a void, Then fill it with remembered joy. A friendship shared, a laugh, a kiss; Yes, these things, I too will miss. Be not burdened with times of sorrow For I wish sunshine for your tomorrow. My life's been full and blessed with much; Good friends, good times, a loved ones touch. Perhaps my time seems all to brief; Don't lengthen it now with undue grief. Lift up your heart and share with me, God wanted me now, He set me free. Mom is probably still smiling knowing her family and friends “showed up” and I smile because she touched so many lives, mine included. For my sisters, my brother, me and our families, it was a life changing event. Our lives have never been the same and I’m a continuing work of change. Letting go has been one of my biggest challenges but I'm determined to get it right and live every day like those days when she was here helping to push me forward with words of encouragement and never missing a time to tell me that she loved me. My family is a big "I love you family." I never want to miss an opportunity to let those I love not hear those words...it was deeply planted in my heart by my family and in leading by example, I will not change that tradition of letting those I care about know that no matter what changes...the love endures. When I called to wish Janellie a happy day, we chatted about everything and said our "I love you's." Mom would be happy.

Maybe we are finally moving forward and making changes that needed to be made. We will never forget our Mom and all the memories, but God Bless her, if we don’t change and let go, how do we go forward with the new things that are right here in front of us? Janellie has a new grandson, Rex, a sweet fellow, Kevin, who makes her smile and laugh A LOT. I have two healthy, happy and successful sons...here's Sam and me

Steven...my oldest and about to be New Dad.

a beautiful daughter-in-awe, Lauren (on the right) here with her best friend Tyler, who just helped give her a beautiful baby shower for my grandson about to make his debut 7.4.09

gee, I hope he likes baseball….so many things to smile about there are too many to name. Perhaps Janellie and I have grown up, matured, and are beginning to let go and make room for these new chapters in our lives. Changing and letting go has been a slow process and I have been known to be “in time out” from friends and family, but it’s because I don’t want to be held hostage by my past…clinging to it like a child behind his mother’s apron. When I go into “time out” it’s usually from a relationship that didn’t work out, or a disappointment I feel I’ve caused, but…I do this little chant to try to bring me back to the moment: It’s good to be merry and wise, It’s good to be honest and true, but it’s best to be off with the old, before you’re on with the new. Just one of my little “isms” I live by. How can I go forward in life with all the good I know is in store, if I keep holding hands with stuff from my past? A business friend told me: “Mistakes are but a rung on the ladder in the education of experience.” Ken was a professional baseball player and it was one of his coaches that threw this at him like a 90+ mph pitch and while I had to think about it a bit, I “get it.” If I cling to my past mistakes, or just hold good thoughts clenched like they can never happen again, they will keep my mind cluttered…unable to let new thoughts and experience happen. No, I must be out with the old to let the new in. Yes, I am working on "Letting Go to Let Happen. It’s okay for me to hold on to my memories but I prefer to draw on them as a reserve to let newcomers peek into my heart and soul, see where I have been while I continue in forward motion … growing and changing. I know I am a continuing work of “change” and want to continue to grow and change though most of my friends know I find the process difficult. But I will continue to work on my becoming more flexible so my mind and my heart is open for good times and good feelings. If I dwell on my mistakes and don’t open my heart for new experiences, love and kindness, as well as acknowledge that I’m going to make mistakes, I’m going to become “stuck.” Stuck in a world of just coasting along, going through life not feeling all there is to feel, or experiencing the joy that life has to offer. My son, Sam, gave me an award that hangs in my home. It’s an “I Love You Award to a Very Special Person that he wrote when he was 12 years old. While I enjoy my collection of Mediterranean prints by Howard Behrens, http://www.chooseart.net/howard_behrens.html Sam’s art and words of kindness help encourage me. I want to be the person my Mom, my family and friends have all helped me to be and that I know can be even better. I didn't arrive here alone...there was a lot of help along the way.

Perhaps it was His Plan to change our lives with the loss of Mom on Mother’s Day, 2004. It changed my life; it took me out of my comfort zone but it strengthened my character, as well as my faith. Losing Mom has changed me and it’s taught me valuable lessons about growing, about my journey and about new beginnings. My heart is open, I'm staying focused on the good in my life, and looking forward to the future.

God Bless you, Mom…Always Remembered.

TOMMY IS PRODUCING...

2009-05-03T20:36:00.007-05:00

I was a bit surprised with my newly planted tomato plants, only at the infancy stage. These are the Juliette variety, cherry tomatoes. Now, as my Gradad used to say: "If the bugs don't get 'em, and the rains don't swell 'em up, for 'em to split, and the heat doesn't steam 'em, and the varmants don't eat 'em, we'll have one nice crop this year." Here is the beginning of my 2009 Tomato Harvest! Really impressive, don't you think? Hey, hey, hey, they could be a real Hot Salsa when they grow up! That's if they go across town...if they stay with me...they'll be placed in a fresh salad nightly!

I spent all day Thursday in jury duty, did 13 Sudoko puzzles, made 1 new friend, was sent to a judge's courtroom at 2:30,the case settled and I was released at 3:00. Ugh! Except for the new friend, it seemed a bit of a wasted day...albeit willing to do my part of civic duty! As I was winding my way back to the freeway from the courthouse, which can be quite a challenge for me in downtown San Antonio since all the roads seems to wind and turn as the San Antonio river does (I think there is a story there...must ask my cousin, Norma), I wanted to share this stunning bouganvilla that caught my eye in the parking lot of an office. It looked like it was growing out of the driveway. I definitely think it tops my list of bouganvilla's.

A special I had on my April post from my dear friend, Carol Garner, in Angleton, Tx. "Beverly, gardening is near and dear to me, also. I wish I could do nothing but that all year long. I laughed when I read the part about buying sickly plants. etc. I love that challenge, too. First the 8 inches of rain and horrible wind last week here and now this weekend 30 mph winds again! It's like Mother Nature is wielding a baseball bat on my poor old vegetable garden! Paul and I repair, pet, do CPR, and pray over our garden lately and it DOES seem to help! LOL! I brushed back some soil to see what the potatoes had under there and I saw a beautiful red potato almost baseball size. They are almost ready. I think harvesting potatoes is about my favorite as it feels alot like a grown-up Easter egg hunt! " Just too cute to not share!

She's a sweetie and I love 'em all down in Angleton. See you in 6 weeks!

Ta Ta ~

TIME FOR GARDEN GIRL

2009-04-03T17:38:00.027-05:00

My yard is begging me to come outdoors...it is screaming attention and I really want to go out but I'm just having an energy-time crisis...lack of energy and lack of time. The boots Mom gave me for Christmas in 2004 are staring at me like a puppy whose been inside all day and wants to play. I think I will dust them off, throw on my hat (minus the pearls, of course) and mess up the mani-pedi. It's been a long winter, with little rain and now the wind is blowing pollen everywhere. It's a miracle that anything wants to bloom as harsh as the weather has been or should I say anti-specific. It really doesn't want to be cold, nor hot, definitely not wet, but yet, the flowers bloom. My first pink rose of 2009. Belinda's Dream http://aggie-horticulture.tamu.edu/cemap/rosebelinda/rosebelinda.htmlComing home last night the sky was blue but the winds were blowing so hard my roses were scattering their petals across the drive like it was snowing. But because I did my feeding, the buds are popping out all over in a beautiful array of pink. Light pink, hot pink...my favorite rose. Even my trees are budding with the wind whipping them. I've nested here at 11227 since 1997 and planted almost every tree. The builder did make a stab at a few (now long gone shrubs, but no trees, except for the grouping in the front). This beautiful tree was less than 12 inches tall when I brought it home and it took a whole week-end to dig through the rock to get it in the ground. I never thought it would stand so proud or grow and flourish as it has.Even now, 12 year later, when I dig in my flower beds, rocks are still buried beneath the soil...no that would be rock/sand and are to be dealt with. I've dug every flower bed, pulled every weed and mulched every bed. An orthopaedic surgeon here in SA,TX can attest to surgically repairing a really torn rotator cuff that tugged and pulled at 40 lb. bags of mulch (200 bags to be exact). When he asked my son, Sam "what does your Mom do that she tore this shoulder up so bad?" Sam's response: "Whatever she wants to but I think she was spreading mulch." There were so many bags that planting season...the year after repair surgery I couldn't tolerate the smell that permeated so many of our small nurseries and big box stores with their new shipments of mulch and peat moss. I would take another route into the store and there was no mulching 11227 that year. And doesn't everybody love the fresh smell of grass and mulch at the start of spring...I know I do. Now, I'm not saying I've done the mowing and edging at 11227 because that would take away from the kindly fellow that magically appears every Thursday between April 1 and October 1 since 1997. In all these years he's missed only one Thursday of making sure my lawn welcomes me home as manicured as this hot Texas sun will allow, given water restrictions from lack of rainfall. http://www.edwardsaquifer.net/ But, as a community, I think we make a big effort to preserve our Aquifer and I know I watch out for those "water cops." The dirt digging, weeding and pruning are my chores but once I get the energy going, I love to garden. I'm proud to say that my trees are all standing tall as though they are ready to march right through summer despite a tepid winter and little rainfall.

I hope you enjoy the blooms and blossoms I've seen this month and it inspires you to plant a little something.

Azaleas in League City, Tx.

A neighbor's climbing Bouganvilla...hot pink...one of my favorite's and it grows well in this hot spring and cool nights.

Everything is blooming now and we've had a bit of rain. Everything seems so new ...there is nothing quite as pleasant except maybe a walk in the evening hours or watching your adult "kiddo" mow his baseball field where you can hear the trees rustle, the birds chirping around and the bees harmonizing with life as they drift among the flowers. Of course, Coach is asking: "Can I mow over this, what about this?" That would be negative to the bluebonnets that blanket the field behind his outfield!

Salado, TX Bluebonnets

I think springtime is like a little taste of heaven with green grass from the rain, popping up everywhere, plants bursting open with their blooms...sometimes as a complete surprise. I had a beautiful friend, Dorothy Guynes, who always asked "Did you just buy that sick plant on sale to show you could make it well again?" No, I usually bought sick, half dead plants because they were a bargain but I did enjoy the challenge. These two crepe myrtles were 99 cents, on sale, half dead and I thought I was planting "Dwarf crepe myrtles" with the specific goal of NOT overpowering the yard or growing something "taller than 42 inches." You can share in my surprise...they are definitely not "dwarf" and they've been pruned over the years and bloom all summer, one a beautiful white and the other...you guessed it, hot pink...which can make for snowfall over the swimming pool sprinkled with petals of pink!

It's worth all the scooping of blooms when it's 105 degress on a hot San Antonio day and you can take a quick dip with intermittent gardening not to count enjoying a cool salad with the fruits of your labor...folks, meet Tommy the Tomato. I do admit to being in a bit of competition with a friend and we count blooms with every conversation. All in fun...seeing if the results of our hard work live up to expectations. With three tomato plants, I expect a full harvest but with my neighbor's tree trying to hang out over the fence, it's branches like some muscle man arms, it may impede my tomato's best efforts...just too much shade. Tommy may be moving to a new location in the near future!

Gardening has always been an important part of my life and with the weather as mild as it is in San Antonio, I could, given the time, garden year-round, though in the dog days of summer it's hard work to get things to grow. San Antonio has over 600 classroom gardens, many supervised by graduates of the local Master Gardener program. http://www.texasmastergardeners.com The 475+ members make this small city in southern Texas the home of the most active Master Gardener chapter in the United States and Canada. Hopefully, the city gardens have received a nice drink and a few showers are on the way this week because we all know:

I don't think I've ever appreciated rain as much as I do now that I live in San Antonio. It's not to say that I've gotten over my fear of bad thunderstorms and lightning and certainly miss my Mom to talk to me on the phone to pass the time while even hail drops like golf balls on a May day, but I think God is softly whispering to us as the rains caress our countryside with little droplets of life, clean and fresh. I believe if we listen very closely there's no doubt that He'll impart...the freshness of spring upon your soul, and a flower in your heart! I wish that for all my family and friends.

~Happy Gardening

Make a Wish for Everyone You Love

2009-04-03T08:23:00.001-05:00

GOING HOME

2009-03-22T19:44:00.066-05:00

Home is where your memories are born...or maybe it's where your secrets live and are kept until you bring them up to the surface to reflect with happiness about some and sadness about others. All the same, your memories belong to you and no one can take them from you. For me, home is where (as the sign in my Art Room says) "Your Story Begins".

My Art Room is where many memories reside through my photos, my mother's rubber stamp collection and where I bring life to my memories through photos, scrapbooking, cardmaking and any thing I can find to keep hands busy, bring a smile through a gift, and keep my heart happy. Geographically, home is Texas City, Tx where I was born, grew up, and lived with my parents and my sisters and brother in Small House. It was brand new when my parents bought it ...I was about 13 and they were so proud of it. It was where I was scolded a little and praised a lot. My family contributed so much to my life and my memories, and I love keeping the memories alive through my stories and photos. My mother was a very young mother (17) when I was born and we were probably more like sisters than mother-daughter. I think we taught each other about motherhood and the memories I have with my sisters and brother, that I absorbed through every day adventures and challenges, were lessons well learned, later well used and became the foundation of my values when I became a mother. Of course, I realize it was my mother's memories as a young woman that led her to a different style of parenting with me...a little harder on me than I would have liked, but I was rewarded with a unique sense of self, a good, healthy dose of self-esteem (you think) a great deal of independence and the ability to love unconditionally. There was a lot of love in Small House and I know so well how difficult it must have been, especially with just one bathroom and 4 kiddos. Something that is unheard of now...one bathroom. If my boys think I am a "Mom story teller" they should only have heard half of her stories and memories.

My Mom (age 57 ),Me (age 40). She baked a birthday cake for me the day this photo was taken and actually topped it with 40 candles.

I came into this world telling my Mom "we've got places to go, things to do and people to see." She knew I wanted my independence early on and I always took a lot of pride in Small House, digging and planting, and the contribution I made as the oldest of four, which was mostly babysitting and housecleaning, which I do no more. Never. Someone else's job! So...I came by my bossiness and independence naturally and then it was home grown from there. Mom was usually up for whatever hobby or sport was interesting me at the time but I wanted my own place and my own space the day I graduated from High School. That I did...moving out of Small House with one bathroom. Boy, were there a couple of bathroom door bangings that only a sister and brother could get into fighting over a bathroom. I've always been a bathroom hog and a closet slob but the rest of any home I've lived in has screamed neatness or so I'm told. Seems to be a fear with most people (except my boys) when they come to my home...but organizing is one of my virtues that haunts me frequently. I sure hope it doesn't take away from the warmth but rather is just a memory of when I used to organize my spices. Not something I got from my mother but from her mother and my Dad. He taught me to keep the garage the cleanest because he said it was what we would see first. True enough, few people ever walk through my front door after the initial visit...from then on it's the backdoor coming into my garage... that still needs more organization!

Remembering the High School days in the '60's. It was the old Terrace Drive Inn in Texas City, on a December Friday night in 1967 where I met my boys' Dad, Terry, a blonde, blue-eyed college senior home for the week-end and playing the "big guy on campus role" cruising around in his fancy new car. I was a senior in high school and we hit it off right away. It only took two years for us to begin our journey together, our chapter of memories, with me always wanting a different house with different wallpaper. He was such a sport about every house needing the right garden, the right paint and the oh so perfect wallpaper. I learned fairly quickly that his very talented Dad, whom I adored, would do just about any odd job I wanted (well, he would do it for anybody - he was that kind of guy) and one of the most valuable was how to lay tile when I didn't like what the builder was going to put in. Having built 3 homes starting at the age of 19, you learn fairly quickly how to negotiate with the builder and get them to come around "your way." Funny thing about that home Terry and I built at age 19. We called it "Westbury Home" like it was a grand estate and to us it was but that was actually the name of the street. I did all the negotiations and we came out with a $150 house note...now can you even imagine? We were actually scared we weren't going to be able to afford that Westbury Home but I just kept us building after that one was finished and we took on 10 acres and Farm House. We built that one ourselves, with GrandPa's help, had our pond and ducks, geese and cats. Bad thing was that moving to the country found me allergic to everything we had but it didn't take but 2 years and hundreds of allergy shots later to get rid of those. I think I was taking the allergy shots longer than we lived in Farm House. On most home projects Grandpa would do it for me but I have many funny memories of Grandpa saying: "No, tell me you didn't get that fancy stuff this time." Of course, in the 1960's foil wallpaper was all the rage and since he had a hard time telling anybody "no" he would try to convince me that he couldn't do it! So I would research it "ad nauseum" only to find out that he knew how all along! In my mind, there wasn't anything that Grandpa couldn't fix or foil, including wallpapering and laying tile in the smallest of bathrooms. He helped build a greenhouse as a Christmas gift to me in 1974 in the backyard of Westbury Home and when I saw it he teasingly asked: "which wall do you want wallpapered?" No wallpaper in that plant-home, he had to install a heating system...that threw him a bit! I spent many days tending to my plants in that little potting shed built with care by Terry and Grandpa. Together they were a construction force to reckon with.

From early married days in the late 1960's through two marriages and I can't begin to count how many homes, I finally moved away from Texas City in 1995 after Sam began studies at Baylor. Through the years, I learned that home is where you are at the time, with your memories, and being with those you love. Single woman that I've been for a very long time, I've been known to tell a date "about the only baggage I carry is my suitcase of memories." The junky stuff I just leave in it's little compartment of my heart and hope I don't need to open it up...it's under lock and key, for the most part, and while some of it may have helped bring me to this point in my life, the sign reads "closed" and I don't choose to travel that path again. Since my my Mom passed away in 2004, I seldom go home to Texas City. People have moved and time has become precious and it's a 5 hour drive from San Antonio to Texas City. While many would ask why I don't fly back home, I like the freedom of driving, being able to stop along the way if something catches my eye and pull out my camera. This month I did just that...packed the car, clothes (couple pairs of shoes :-) and made sure my camera was good to go. Off to Texas City I went for a baby shower for sweet Tracie, daughter of my beloved Sallie, friend of both of my boys, a beautiful wife, wonderful schoolteacher (kiddos you have your hands full :-) and now about to be mother to little Jack David on April 26th.

The Baby Shower:

I stayed the night before with Sam, who now has his own beautiful home and was sport enough to drive me to Texas City on Saturday for the shower. Afterwards, we spent time wandering around Texas City doing drive-bys of our homes, our schools and took photos and chatted all the way about it's change. Samuel Joseph, my youngest.

Photos of his home - he has quite a green thumb but he and his neighbors, Susan, Sandy, Ulrech and Julie work hard to make their townhomes quite a showplace.

The shower brought together seasoned mommies, new mommies and mommies to be and it was good to see friends I hadn't seen in months and catch up with what's going on, listen to new chapters of their lives, and share the new chapter I eagerly await...Grammie To Be. Don't forget to see Little Baby Boy Monitor on blog sidelines. The monitor says he will begin to notice light...probably because it's baseball season. You think? Here is Sue who I've known since we were 10 and 11 with her niece, Kristen, Tracie's big sister, "Sissy" as she is called by many of us, Mommy to Sydney and Blake, beautiful wife, a wonderful school teacher and about to be aunt to little Jack. Visiting Texas City brought back a lot of memories and while most of them are good memories, it's really true (at least for me) "you can't go home.

A little about our drive-bys:

Always having a penchant for pet names of my homes, this house "Big House" because it was and in typical Beverly-style, we even made it bigger adding a game room overlooking the Bay with built in bunks, like a ship. A story soooooo funny, but scary, was the day that Lodie, our beloved housekeeper of 15 years, called and told me she had fallen through the attic behind the boys bunks, landed Doug's 1963 Mustang and was fearful she had dented it. Of course, I was more worried that she was hurt but she picked herself up, dusted herself off and went back to whatever she was doing. What was she doing behind the bunks (the attic over the garage). Surely I didn't have her dusting the insulation...you think? While I don't cook now, in fact the sign says "Kitchen Closed" on my bar, we had lots of large Rotary gatherings at Big House, Family Gatherings and the kids had a great time living in Big House. Well, not to sugar coat this Big House memory... there were some tumultous times (but remember those are locked way) there certainly were good and funny times and even some of the not so good memories are now fun to tell and inevitably bring about laughter. We bought Big House in 1987 and I don't think we ever laid down the hammer (well I think we did lay it down day of the d-i-v-o-r-c-e). The libary was a dark, fake wood paneling and 5 coats of Kiltz later, it was painted a beautiful white enamel, floor to ceiling, overlooking the bay. I wanted our beautiful book collection to fill every shelf that went floor to ceiling on two sides because you know the saying: "The Mind Knows What The Eyes See." At that time Big House was pretty enough to be on the Texas City Christmas Tour of Homes. Carol and I have memories of hanging the Christmas greenery that week-end...fresh sprigs of greenery on the staircase that she rigged with fishing line so it was invisible. I finally had to turn the heater off to keep it from popping loose because of the dry air. Big House had beveled glass doors that I designed with interconnecting hearts and were hand made by my boss' brother in Pearland. At least the doors are still in place and the hearts still interconnected years later.

BIG HOUSE:

and 10 years, a lot of memories left at Big House, and a divorce later, the boys and I moved into "Little House" that now appears to be decorated with a brand new mailbox!

I loved both houses just the same, each with their own personality and memories...skateboarding into the swimming pool while I wasn't watching (bad Stevo), kayaking in the Bay (Doug's idea but Sam was a good sport), dune buggy riding, 4-wheeling on the lot next door of Big House, jogging routes, ski trips and many, many baseball games and school activities combined with a lot of holidays, friends and family.

Little House was special to me as a single Mom. It was the first house I bought on my own without the help of another person, other than those who were along the path and helped me to become an independent woman. Sam decorated Little House's yard for Christmas one year when he was about 12. I came home, took one look and went into a "Tizzy Lizzy moment" as my Mama Rush would say, about the plastic statues in the front yard. Many years later, cleaning out my Mother's attic, I decided to give Sam the plastic statues for his front yard. Oddly enough...he said "absolutely not!" The circle continues round and round. The good thing about memories is that they come in and out of your life and you never know what song or what moment is going to take you back in time. But...back to the present and life as it is now. Home is now San Antonio, the second-largest city in the State of Texas and the seventh largest city in the United States. I lived here the summer the temperature reached an all-time record high of 111 degrees F on 9.5.2000 but wasn't born just yet when it dipped to a record low of 0 degrees F on 1.31.1949. Thank goodness... most of you know I'm cold in almost any air conditioned room. Hey, I'm from Galveston County, a real sun baby, and usually donning a sweater!

When I go back to Texas City now after being in San Antonio for 14 years, it seems like a small community while I always thought I was growing up in a very large place. But compared to when I was growing up and then raising my sons, Texas City has thrived, prospered and survived a lot. There's a new school being built (looks like an elementary school), the hospital is now a retirement home and dear old Texas City High School, where not only I went to high school, my boys' Dad went to high school and our boys went to high school has a new sign at the entrance of the football stadium, a very large new statue of our Mascot and a fresh coat of paint.

Texas City High School appears much smaller due to photographer download error!

Visiting again was like I was living there yesterday but it no longer looks the same. The Texas City Dike is not a recreation area for the locals right now. This dusty skinny road jutted out into the bay with rocks on both sides where your neighbor could be spotted on a Sunday afternoon throwing a line catching who knows what and just "kicking back with a cool one. The Texas City Dike has been quoted in history books as "The World's Longest Fishing Pier", originally built in 1914 to protect the harbor. In the early 1920's, it was extended five miles into the bay but now, post Hurricane Ike, the sign says: "Closed Until Further Notice." Hurricane Ike was a sad occasion for the Texas City Dike but the most tragic moment in Texas City's history occurred on April 16, 1947, when the freighter Grand Camp exploded in the harbor, igniting other fires and explosions along the waterfront and industrial district. Over 500 lives were lost and millions of dollars in damage done in what has been called one of the worst man-made disaster in U.S. history. The anchor of the freighter Grand Camp, which landed hundreds of feet away from the bay, now graces a city park at the entrance to what was the Texas City Dike, resting on a concrete platform outline of the State of Texas, with a star indicating the location of Texas City.

The historical marker along side the Anchor:

Texas City now has a Starbucks...wow, what progress. I grew up having cherry cokes and milkshakes at a little place called Burton's Malt Shop where I could ride my horse up to the door and Danny, the owner, would bring me a cherry coke. Danny later gave me a job (cooking no doubt, maybe that's why I don't like to cook) and it turned into my very first job at age 14 for about $1.00 an hour! As a young Mom, I could go into the corner grocery store for a Diet Coke and a loaf of bread and and "make a new friend" (as Sam would say), but now, I am anonymous to most. My heart, however, still holds the memories. On our drive-by, Sam and I did make a stop at the neighborhood M & M's grocery store by Little House for a soda and while the fellow behind the counter still said the same thing: "How's it going for you today?" he didn't remember my face. When Sam went in there as a kid, he used to ask: "How's business?" referring to Sam's Club. Whatever it took to b

ring a smile to your face...the guy has it down right.

Texas City holds a lot of history that few know about. I was visiting with friends recently about the history of Texas City and my girlfriend, Carol, who was here for a visit a few weeks ago and I were patching together it's history, as we knew it, grew up, and experienced. It's survived two major depressions, at least five major storms: 1900, 1915, 1943, 1961 and Hurricane Ike, just last year. The miracle of Texas City is that it continues to survive, thrive and prosper staring at the face of adversity, especially every Hurricane Season. Despite the hurricanes and Texas City Explosion (as it is known state-wide, if not nation-wide), is that this community that I called home for 45 years has met the challenges and profited through growth and development. I sure hope the Dike reopens in years to come for all the memories it holds for many a starry, starry night. There weren't a lot of places to go on a date, especially if you were absolutely prohibited from driving to Galveston, but I have so many good memories of dates tricking me out to the end of the Texas City Dike telling me "we're going to watch for submarines." Yeow, right. Then, of course, I tricked dates (one in particular) into letting my horse out of his stall. I stalled him at feed time... on purpose... knowing I had a date. Not sure what I would have done if the date had been broken. I think Coco My Jo, as I affectionaly called him, would have stayed penned up all night and I would have had to figure out how to get to the barn before school. Fortunately, I don't remember a date ever cancelling. Lots of good, wholesome memories at that barn. Some really fun times with an older fellow (at least all of two years older than me) named Steve, whose Dad owned the land. We let his pen of capons drink root beer and did everything possible to keep my lamb's teeth in (for show at the Galveston County Fair and Rodeo). He would ride me on his bike from home to the barn in the rain and the cold and the sleet and the snow...that was until he got his driver's license. Good memories except for the really bad tumble I took on the handlebars of his bicycle. I think my knee is still scarred and don't know that I've ever been back on a bike...I know I stay off the handlebars!

Going back to Texas City and returning to my home in San Antonio, where I have lived in one house longer than any other place in my life is a renewal, each and every time. When I drive in, I am always at peace to be in my garage, in my place and surrounded by my "stuff." It is my shelter from the storm and while I have a penchant for pet names, I have not named this house. It is my home and every flowery room, with it's yellow walls (except for the downstairs bath wallpaper that took 7 coats of paint- candy apple red) are a reflection of the people I love and the stuff that has traveled along with me and my memories. I have gone over and over in my mind whether I need to stay in the house and even my son, Sam, has said: "Mom, home is wherever you are. The rest is just stuff." Yes, that is very true but it's my stuff. It's my photos, and the stuff that comforts me and provides the sense of nesting that I need. It's that place where I can clear away any clutter I've accumulated in my mind (not to count any closets) and begin anew. I can put away any issue that might have resurfaced going home and divest myself of any unnecessary chatter in my mind that might creep up from "going back."

Traveling that journey back to Texas City is like looking into the rear view mirror. Growing up where I did, how I grew up and how I moved on has helped define my identity and I wouldn't trade the twists and turns, or the obstacles along the way, for anything. Without those twists and turns I wouldn't have the happiness and peacefulness that I now enjoy. It's a good thing, as Martha would say, to know that I will just keep moving along in life, with memories that I have stored away, and continue to try (and sometimes I have to try hard) to not become rigid with fear or cling to the past. It's a real waste of energy to keep clinging to what once was. I choose to face the future with the happiness I know is in store, not only for me but for the ones I love, and my experiences have taught me I can face any dark moments of life, that I don't have to run if I use good judgment (and believe me I've done my running in the past) but I don't want to run any more...just make smart decisions, move forward and and eagerly await all the good things that I know are little way down my path. For my past and my future, for the people in my past and in my present, I am grateful From My Heart.

A little piece of magic just may come true if you make a wish today!

~Babs

Happy Valentine's Day

2009-02-01T17:14:00.051-06:00

Robert Frost once said "there is a time for departure, even when there is no certain place to go." Is he is speaking to our journey of life, as it was meant to be lived? That's what I think. Life is a journey, and we should remember that as we go through life; live it in the moment. What about loving in the moment? For what it is now, not what it should have been or could be...but now. In this electronic world where we are all connected electronically, a personal "feature components," as humans, is our love-ability. We love to love it, we love to give it, receive it, talk about it, we write music about it and yes, sometimes we lose it...but there's definitely something we cannot do and that is...live without it. In our heart of hearts, I think we all love, it's just more natural for some than it is for others and I think we all love differently and love a variety of things in our life. It's Valentine's Day and there was a special lady in Minnesota who, on a very cold visit there, told me about the love of her life. She gave me a wonderful outlook on life that I think of often: "Look out the windshield, not in the rear view mirror." I remember that phrase a lot on my journey and I often wish I didn't look back but I have many wonderful memories of Valentine's Day and special loves so on this special day I am looking back reminiscing about the different types of love. Puppy Love, First Love, Eternal Love, Parental Love, Sibling Love, Friendship Love, Love of Sports, Love of Pets...get it? Personally, I don't think love should be about who loves you, but who you love. It's a day of accounting and making certain that those people who are in our lives know they are special, recognized and know that we love them regardless of any "return on investment" in this day of television and other media blasting us with econonic news. I've read several theories of Saint Valentine's Day and there are varying opinions as to it's origin. Some say it originated from St. Valentine, a Roman who was martyred for refusing to give up Christianity. He died on February 14, 269 A.D., the same day that had been devoted to love lotteries. Legend also says that St. Valentine left a farewell note for the jailer's daughter, who had become his friend, and signed it "From Your Valentine." Others say that Saint Valentine served as a priest at the temple during the reign of Emperor Claudius. Claudius then had Valentine jailed for defying him. In 496 A.D. Pope Gelasius set aside February 14 to honor St. Valentine. Over time February 14 became the date for exchanging love notes and St. Valentine became the patron saint of lovers. The date is marked by sending poems and simple gifts such as flowers. In the United States, Miss Esther Howland, built a successful business in her home of Worcester, Massachusetts with handmade Valentine cards that were based on British models. Worcester, Massachusetts reminds me of an Eternal Love of a very special couple. My cousins, Bob and Norma. I was the flower girl in their wedding, little white socks and all. Theirs was a marriage that lasted decades...something to be admired and revered in this day and age. Norma, my shiny and bright cousin, and her beloved Bob, who was adored by many, now has a gymnasium named after him, had a marriage as solid as the rocks of South Texas. He was from Worcester, Massachusetts and being the small town Texas girl that I am, I thought Worcester was some far away land when Norma introduced our family to this ruggedly handsome, well over 6'2", fellow. He was born on Oct. 8, 1937 to a wonderful Polish family. Bob was a HUGE basketball player and won the City championship his senior year in high school and was All-New England Conference 1st Team. Can you believe he worked in the Brown Shoe Factory, (Buster Brown Shoes which Norma actually wore)? Basketball brought him to San Antonio, Texas with a 4 year BasketBall scholarship at Trinity University. During his Freshman year at Trinity, he traveled to Texas City for the Christmas holidays with a friend, a football player for Trinity. Norma was a Senior at Texas City High School that year and was planning to attend Trinity University in the fall. As Norma would say: "Now don't tell me that God doesn't polish us up and get us ready for a life's journey to meet, fall in love, and marry our true soul mates." That they did. They had quite a journey together and she did A LOT OF THE DRIVING...at least in the beginning of their journey. Definitely ETERNAL LOVE. ETERNAL LOVES: My grandmother and grandfather, Fred and Annie, my dear friend, JoAnn and her husband, Thomas, my aunt and uncle, Dee and Helen, (My "Tis"), my daughter-in-awe's mother and father, Rick and Barbara, my dear friends, Toby and Sallie, This couple's Eternal Love is also Paternal Love, Sibling Love, Friendship Love and the many pets along their journey. God Bless you, Toby...you are in our hearts forever. Eternal Loves (cont'd): James and Carol who I adore, Gaynell and Jimbo, married since we were kids or so it seems, and my childhood friend, who I love very much, Phyllis Ann and her husband, Bob. We all thought he was Robert Redford's twin. A smile and personality bigger than Dallas...and a love for PAnn about the same size.

A bit of trivia? Have you ever wondered where so many of the Valentine's go that are postmarked "Loveland?" When the boys were little we went to Colorado so they could learn to ski and enjoy the mountains. A huge change of scenery from our coastal hometown region of Galveston County. One year, we were able to visit and ski at Loveland, Co. It is not only beautiful but has the reputation of doing the largest post office business around February 14. So your trivia answer is Loveland, Co.

SIBLING LOVE: The spirit of love continues as Valentines are sent with sentimental verses and children exchanging valentine cards at school. I can remember, as though it was yesterday, standing in our kitchen, me the big sister at age 12, making my little sister, Janell, and little brother, Dwain, each a Valentine's box. Let's see...Janellie would have been about 7 and Dwain would have been about 6 so it was probably their first Valentine boxes.

Little Brother All Grown Up... I wasn't as crafty with the scissors and glue then, as I am now, because thats when we all realized I fainted at the sight of pain or blood. Not a particularly romantic thought but true all the same. If I say I'm going to faint...you best believe it and get out of the way. But I did love looking for that coveted cigar box that every little kid wanted to cover and mark on and make really special to have school friends place little notes and cards in throughout the day. Who really did secretly admire us but was too bashful to tell?

I only have a handful of friends and I covet them and wish I had more time to spend with them. I keep saying I'm going to work on that. Anyway, two that have been in my life for well over 25 years are particularly important: A female FRIEND THAT I LOVE and a male FRIEND THAT I LOVE. Neither even know the other. So be it our journey of life, where it takes us, who we love, yet sometimes paths do not even cross.

FEMALE FRIENDSHIP LOVE. Phyllis Ann...friends since my birthday, age 13. We met that year in school and went to the movies one Saturday (she didn't know it was my birthday) and we've been friends through all the years. We can go for months without talking, call one or the other on the phone, and BOOM...we pick up where we left off the last time we talked. We reminisce, advise, listen, philosophize, opinionize...you name it, we do it. She's a dear, talented friend who, like the song says "When you Need a Friend" she is there. Then there's my dear Sallie, who was married to a wonderful man (see Eternal Love) and Sallie has seen me through some of the highest of highs and the lowests of lows...and you know what, she's still here and I know, in my heart, that she will be with me forever in my journey. Here we are the night her beloved Toby was honored by our Alma Mata for the contributions that he gave back to our home town, the community, our children and civic life.

As was said in Eulogy: "There will be many little ladies who will miss Toby's hugs." A Valentine of many, but his Valentines were his girls, Sallie, Kristen and Tracey. Female Friendship Love (cont'd.) PAnn was there the night I met my boys' Dad. She had known Terry and his family for years because they stabled horses on her families acreage. They were riding buddies...barn buddies...it was a fluke meeting that night. She has been a constant in my life even when distance has caused absence, she was and is always in my heart. I know she will always be there...for the long run. PAnn has passed many of her talents on to her beautiful daughter, Stacey. A young lady with many, many talents. Now, the two of us, long time friends have 3 kiddos...all SS's.... SJS, SLS, SMS...so we share. MALE FRIENDSHIP LOVE: A boss first, friend forever. Not a thing romantic...just a dear, dear heart. My friend Stan, who is far away now, knows every secret, every love, every loss, every high and every low of my journey and I suspect that I know his. He's been along every step of the way and I know he will be there at the end of the journey. Always there. He's counseled, he's listened, he advises but he never judges. Happy Valentine's Day, SPS. FRIENDSHIP LOVE: NO MATTER THE GENDER In loving my friends, I am learning to trust, even at my lowest moments and when I am feeling vulnerable. My biggest weakness is letting my barriers down. I believe I MUST be strong and it is soooo exhausting but that is who I am and I'm okay with it. It's nice to have friends that I can be with and know I am not being judged. A new friend has taught me a lot about friendship. Somehow I made it to this age thinking that love was only about romance. No, love is also about friendship and loyalty. It's just taken me a lot longer to figure that out and I am thankful for this learning lesson...a lesson for me, the one with an unhealthy dose of mistrust. But, if you can trust the person based on their acts and not just their words, there is a foundation for friendship. That is...to trust. It is so easy to be fooled, but you know the saying: "fool me once"...well, I don't even want to go there in my Love-ly Blog. Friendship is what it is...not what is said...it's the actions. It’s something you do, and it's because you WANT to do it for the other person...nothing expected in return. And if you are lucky it all balances out. That doesn’t mean it’s always going to be in perfect harmony and balance at every turn. Sometimes you just “need a friend” and be there when you are needed by your friend. It's a mutual trust you can depend on. Thank you, Joe, for this valuable lesson in trust and friendship. MATERNAL LOVE: Can there ever be a deeper bond than that of a mother's love? I don't think so. As the saying goes: "From the Time They Placed You In My Arms You've Been in My Heart Forever." I have two of the most incredible young men and they have been the Sunshine of my life. A Mother's love is something that no one can explain, It is made of deep devotion and of sacrifice and pain, It is endless and unselfish and enduring, come what may For nothing can destroy it or take that love away . . . It is patient and forgiving when all others are forsaking, And it never fails or falters even though the heart is breaking . . . It believes beyond believing when the world around condemns, And it glows with all the beautyof the rarest, brightest gems . . . It is far beyond defining, it defies all explanation, And it still remains a secret like the mysteries of creation . . . A many splendoured miracle man cannot understand And another wondrous evidence of God's tender guiding hand. ~ Helen Steiner Rice NEW LOVE: Now my oldest is newly married to a beautiful young woman with an incredible smile and wonderful heart. They are expecting their first born on 7.04.09. A little boy. Check out Baby Progress Meter on the side! He will be treasured and adored by many. My son is now the second happiest I've ever seen him in his life, the first being when Lauren walked down the aisle and said "I Promise" and now waiting the birth of their firstborn (paybacks really are going to be fun, my son) and I am so grateful to his wife and her family. My son probably has a bit of all loves...New Love, about to have Parental Love, Love of Sport, and his LOVE OF PET: Ladies & Gentleman...meet Tag. Tag is Steven & Lauren's Boxer who has graced us with his presence not only in our homes but on the baseball field...and quite unexpectedly. Tag, you are in for a new love yourself... New Little Baseball Player. You just may have to move over and make a bit of room in your life.

speaking of Animals...Remember PUPPY LOVE.

Valentine's Day - Elementary years. I remember looking foward to that special day in elementary school when we crafted our Valentine mailbox for our schoolmates to sneak in those cute little Valentine cards during the day. Just wondering exactly which Valentine would be sent by our then "Puppy Love." I think in the 3rd grade my Puppy Love was named George.

That was also true in the 10th and 11th grade, but a different George. George (3rd Grade) and I had started 1st grade together. That would be George S. and I'm not sure, to the day we graduated from high school, if we ever said more than two words! Ever wander what happened to your first Valentine? Such sweet and tender days. Perhaps that's how my love of scrapbooking started. Making those sweet little Valentine boxes. I still like to make boxes and card and photo pages to remember all this.

Valentine's Day is celebrated by many throughout the world. It's the traditional day in the Western World where lovers express their feelings for each other by sending cards, or giving flowers or giving a box of chocolates. My first box of chocolates was when I was initially accused of being "high maintenance" which, of course, I am NOT. It was my junior year in high school and I was juggling two fellows (who me...yes, me). One brought red roses and Russell Stover and the other fellow (such a sweetheart) brought carnations and Whitman's chocolates. One was 17...the other 22 and a junior in college. Now, I'm going to set the record straight after all these years. First, I don't even like chocolate and second my favorite flower is pink roses. As I remember it, the roses were red but the carnations were pink. Somebody was trying to get it straight just didn't quite make it. While I was very fond of them both as a 17 year old could, let's say the Russell Stover/red roses, won my heart 2 years later, and gave me those two wonderful sons, Steven and Sam. God Bless You, Terrell ("Terry") Layne Sebesta, b. 1945 - d. 1991. Modern day Valentines include the heart-shaped Cupid, an alternative theory from Belarus that states the holiday originates from the story of Saint Valentine, who, being rejected by his love was so heartbroken that he took a knife to his chest and sent her his still-beating heart as a token of his undying love for her. So...there you go...heart-shaped cards sent as a tribute of overwhelming passion and suffering. As a single adult, I've had my very own Cupid, my sweet friend, Carol. She has played Cupid to many. She's definitely not a meddler...she just wants everybody to be as happy and in love as she is with her sweetheart, James. A marriage I've long admired. Heck the only time I've ever seen them raise their voices to each other I was the only one crying! I believe her record holds that she has fixed up 13 girlfriends, 12 have married and, well, I'll let you guess who is #13 and not married, though she has fixed me up 6 times. I've met some really nice gentlemen, they've met some really nice ladies and seem to be happy and in marital bliss. At least it looked that way on the day her daughter, Melissa married. At the wedding, there was an entire dance dedicated to the couples Carol had played matchmaker for and there I was...Little Miss Wallflower. Definitely "Cupid, Draw Back Your Bow" is my Valentine's dedication to Carol. She's a wonderful friend, a devoted wife, mother and MiMi to her grandson, Caden. She's going to give me Grammie lessons for the next several months. So for all my favorite people, just remember the famous words of Charlie Brown:

HAPINESS IS ANYONE AND ANYTHING THAT'S LOVED BY YOU. ~ Charlie Brown

OF COURSE: Out of his love for Lucy, one of his all time favorites: NOTHING TAKES THE TASTE OUT OF PEANUT BUTTER QUITE LIKE UNREQUITED LOVE...but let's not go there either. It's a Love-ly Day and I hope your Valentine's Day has been as special as you are all to me and that your Valentine evening is full of love.

Seal a letter with a wish and a kiss!

~ Babs

Just 50 Years Ago...

2009-01-25T11:40:00.010-06:00

On my drive this past week listening to my favorite news program, The Morning Edge at KTSA, I was anticipating another round of political rhetoric. When you begin to consider the disk jockeys as your morning commute passengers, you think you know them, their likes, when they're going to "zing" someone or make a profound (or so they think) statement. I was about to zone them out (change the channel) and listen to NPR or even something country since most of what I see along Hwy. 181 is country, at it's finest, I might add. But hold on there...Trey Ware caught my attention when he started talking about Motown. It's 50 years old. How could that be? Motown was around when I was growing up...of course, I would have been coming into the era of "I want my own radio." So, I kept the Morning Edge on the radio dial, thinking they would tell me something I didn't already know. In the summer of 2007, I learned a lot about Motown from a couple of friends over for a Labor Day pool party and a couple of margaritas. Until that day, I thought Motown was about slow dancin', with your fella, on a Friday night at the Texas City Teen Club, and thinking "we're so cool." Of course, all of us at Texas City Teen Club thought we were "real fine" back then. So, for all of my high school friends, as well as new friends and family, here's a bit of history. 50 Years Ago, in January, a young fellow, aspiring to be a great songwriter started a record label in Detroit, Michigan. The chances of this young fellow, Berry Gordy, Jr., making his claim to fame in a time that the country was clearly divided by race was highly unlikely. He was a boxer, he worked in the ford Factory and had not done well owning a small record store. He had written songs...think Jackie Wilson...but no fortune did he find. Much like the world today, with our divorce population "off the chart" (excuse the pun), he found himself the father of 3 little ones, broke and out of a job. To the good fortune of many generations to come, his family loaned him $800 and he started a record company that we all now know as Motown Records. Motown Records employed, at one time, 450 employees, with an average age of 23 years old. Perhaps they were the "nerds" of their time. But what talent they had and memories they evoke when we hear that wonderful music. I've been to Detroit only once in my life, had dinner at a very "hole in the wall" restaurant where you had to knock on the door to be let in, but the highlight was touring Hitsville, U.S.A., the Motown Museum. Actually there were 8 houses on Grand Boulevard in Detroit that operated as record manufacturing companies. It was truly a walk back in time for me, a time when life was really simple, puppy love seemed very real and corruption and greed just were not in my vocabulary. Motown was responsible for the great sounds of artists like Marvin Gaye, Smokey Robinson and Stevie Wonder...people we all can identify with their music and reach into our own treasure box of memories to take us back to innocent places in our younger lives. Of course, my high school years were also mixed with the Beatles and a lot of my classmates were quite taken with the British bunch but not me. I was definitely a Motown, Elvis, Beach Boys kind of girl. Just mix it all up. The one time in my life I really liked to dance. Well, slow dance that is. I still do like to slow dance...just seems that I've become a lot more Uptight, as the song goes. During this week of the inauguration of our new President Barack Obama, the talented and great Berry Gordy, Jr., will rightfully take his place and be amongst the artists he helped make so popular. This is the anniversary of Motown, it's another celebration of the great Dr. Martin Luther King, and the inauguration of our First African American President. When I watched the inauguration, there was no doubt in my mind that Dr. King was there, in spirit, knowing that the time had come...At Last...for Hope and Unity. Anybody out there know "Who are the Funk Brothers"? I first learned of them that lazy, Labor Day over margaritas and good friends watching "Standing in the Shadows of Motown" and we all listened to music of our time, danced around the living room (now like 50+ goofs) and all said "remember this one?" Fun times, fun people. I had never heard of the Funk Brothers but soon learned they were the House Band for the Motown Sound, especially in the '60s. They had their fingerprint all over the sounds we all recognize as Motown. From "Shadows, that I've now watched many, many times, these were fellows who were trained for late night jazz clubs. James Jamerson was the bassist and probably the most critical of the musical bunch. Like the song, he made you want to dance. There were others, Benny Benjamin, Pistol Allen and Uriel Jones were principal drummers and there were the guitarists Robert White, Joe Messina and Eddie Willis who all helped to pull it together, with little to no credit. Standing in the Shadows of Motown is a wonderful film documentary that I hope many will have the chance to watch, especially now, and better understand how it took all this talent to create the sounds we so often whispered sweet nothings in the ears of our dance partner, or called and played a song, only to hang up because we chickened out when the other answered. Did you ever do that...thought so. I mean really...didn't you ever have a boyfriend or girlfriend who whispered the words of a Motown sound into your ear while your dancing the night away? Baby Love, You Are the Sunshine of My Life? Enjoy the January Playlist and take a step back in time. ~Babs

MEMORIES OF CHRISTMAS PAST

2008-12-25T08:08:00.037-06:00

Happy Holidays...Christmas 2008. I think we all have visions of homes enveloped in a blanket of snow, children building snowmen and fireplaces all aglow. Well...maybe up north, but not in South Texas. It could happen three days before Christmas, or the day after, but today it's going to be 75 degrees and sunny in San Antonio, or so they say. Like the weather changes, so do our Christmas celebrations and traditions. We have our traditions of Christmas holidays past and, as I contemplate this 2008 Christmas, I think about those memories and how, like the weather, they have changed, will continue to change, and new traditions will be made bringing along our heart to store all our new memories. Christmas is a time to celebrate with people we love and care about and who are important in our lives. This year my youngest son, Sam's theme was: "Less Stress." Whatever we can do to lessen the stress and simplify things. So, whether by choice or by happenstance, this year Christmas will be more simple and less stressful. I'll be spending time with family and with friends but at different times and different settings. I'm setting aside obligations, work and worry and as I write this I think of friends who have brought me peace, happiness and also, people who energize me, inspire me and make my life an interesting journey. Who brings me a smile, a good cry or makes me laugh? Who perplexes me and never ceases to surprise me? Who do I bring smiles and laughter to and who do I energize? I'm sure I perplex no one, nor do I surprise anyone. People are our real gifts in life as opposed to presents in brightly wrapped packages. Of course, we have obligations to some but I love to reach out, without feeling obligated...it's a good feeling. As Mother Teresa said: "Be faithful in small things because it is in them that your strength lies." Christmas is celebrating God's great generosity to us and God asks us to be generous with others. We've probably all seen the movie "Pay it Forward." Wouldn't it be a gentler world if that really happened...the pay it forward part. This week one of my favorite ladies in the whole world, a doctor, who is also one of my bosses, was looking in my office at My Wall of Sayings. It's a small collection that started because one of the doctors had a real slip of the tongue one day laughing over something I was doing. He said: "We've never had anybody obsessive enough to do that." Don't even know what it was but I was taken aback. Me...obsessive? He later came back and said "Obsessive people can be successful people." So in my office is framed: "Obsessive People Can Be Successful People...Author Known." Another is: "Find a Remedy, Not Fault." So after looking at my office wall, she decided she was going to frame several for small Christmas gifts. Her saying, borrowed from...well, I don't remember: "Do Something for Someone Else Today." Reaching out, taking time for someone other than yourself. Isn't that a cheerful thought? I think it's easier than most of us think...but...do we think? What better reason for the season. Since the very first Christmas, and our relationship with God, hasn't there also been another dimension? That people are part of the reason...part of the whole celebratory event? Okay, we probably all have a Scrooge in our family and people can complicate the holidays with stress, but genuine heart-to-heart caring and honesty is at the core of our relationships with our family and friends in order to grow closer to each other. It requires setting priorities with your time and being select with whom you spend time with at Christmas. It doesn't have to be all crammed into one day...why not have it all of December...in fact, why not just a little more attention paid to our fellowships all year long? In putting these words to print, and thinking these thoughts, I definitely think it's something I want to do in the future. To spend quality time with those I care about - maybe a night at our favorite cafe, or Christmas cheer (okay let's face it...in San Antonio it's likely to be a Margarita) or grab one of the goofy holiday movies that will be "Now Playing." So like the weather changing, I want to improve the way I spend time with those I care about...spend more time. But speaking of the weather and its changes...I have friends that had snow in Houston last week! A Kodak moment to prove it! My dear friends, the Mayne's.

I had the opportunity to spend the night with my little sister, Janell, this past week and we laughed, I cried ( I do that sometimes ~ happy and sad) while she cooked dinner and I wrapped a big Christmas present. We talked non-stop until I crashed and went to my room. Janell and I have a new chapter being added to our life scripts within 4 months apart this upcoming New Year. We are both going to be a GranMa this upcoming spring and summer. I'm thrilled beyond belief, as she is, and seeing the love and delight that other friends receive from being the "Grand" at this stage...I know it's going to be wonderful. Check out my new baby countdown...New Baby will be due on July 4, 2009. It is exciting...new life that will bring new celebrations, new traditions and lots of memories. There will definitely be new traditions and memories, mixed with the old and with a new blessing from Heaven. There is no better time than now to look for opportunities to do simple acts of kindness and evaluate fellowship priorities with Christmas purpose in mind. People priortizing and how do we best spend our limited energies? It is a time to celebrate the birth of Christ. Is it time to reconcile with someone in our life? Perhaps for some. Recent dinner with friends brought up the subject of forgiveness and I've been thinking about it. For me it's a gift that we can give and should give to ourselves. If we can forgive, can't we grow, leaving more space in our lives to be the kind of person God designed us to be? I think I can. But, as I mentioned at dinner. Ann Landers once wrote: "It's okay to forgive, as long as you forget what it is you are forgiving." Something to ponder as we wonder into a New Year and for most of us, make New Year's Resolutions. One of my favorite things about Christmas is all the beautiful paper. Wrapping paper, paper tags, cards and now, Christmas bags for those who don't want to wrap. That makes Christmas a bit simpler and I am all for a Simple Christmas. My wrapping closet...talk about making it simple. It's like I have my own Hallmark store! I like to have all my Christmas gifts wrapped in one color. Everything matching. But who was it that said "Perfection is Needed for a Perfect Holiday?" Nobody I know. Another one of those self-induced, unrealistic expectations I set for myself but always feel "squared up" when it's all shiny and bright under the tree. I used to wrap each son's gift with the exact same wrapping paper but gave them either a red bow, or a green bow, to tell them apart. Here's one of our Christmas photos where I tried to "ease up" a little and wrap Tag's gift in a different color so Sam wouldn't be opening a chew toy! Tag always gets a gift. Doesn't everyone's pet? My son and his wife's boxer, Tag, is a wonderful pet and this year Tag gets an ornament: "Hi, My Name Is Get Away From The Christmas Tree, What's Yours?"

Break for a phone call ~ I just found out Tag is in route to San Antonio! He's coming home for Christmas. I try to ease up a bit on all the perfection and organization from time to time. Well, maybe not so much the organization...I mean doesn't everyone label their Christmas Rubbermaid containers of decorations? Sure makes it easier for me. For some, I think we simply need to adjust what our peception of perfection really is. Maybe it came from childhood. Everything seemed perfect then. But then...what did we have to do? I sure didn't cook. That was Mom's and Mama Rush's doings. Magically, it just happened. As you know from my Thanksgiving blog, now I realize how much time and energy they put into those meals. I just remember that it was "all about us." Meaning the little ones. Wanting a stuffed animal, a certain doll, (not Barbie for me...she never could make up her mind what she wanted to be when she grew up though she had a wonderful shoe collection, a record album...then, of course, my piano). Now that was a wonderful Christmas. I learned to play the piano, even played at church in the Sunday School Dept. until I got in trouble for jazzing up the Christmas Hymns. Of course, the pastor's son was right there on the bench with me. I think that's when they brought the choir in!

Christmas didn't seem to be about grown ups, except for the cooking. As I grew up and I became a Mom, it still seemed about the kiddos...except...they were mine. Perhaps that's when the perfection perception came in but I'm going to take it down a notch. I'm going to give myself permission to feel okay about changing my expectations. Only God can achieve perfection, it's the celebration and the fellowship that are important. Having said that, I did put out my Christmas decorations from the dusty attic this year and I've really enjoyed seeing the change in my home. Even my friend Rosette said: "Wow, you must be happy." Is it a sign of happiness? For me, I think Christmas decorations are a sign of peacefulness and wanting to share the small collections of things given to me over the years or things I've made. It's that paper thing, you know! So, I wrapped the stairs, put out the wreaths and put out the snowglobes and nutcrackers. Didn't even feel bad because I didn't get to the tree. It's 9' tall, a little much for me to handle so I just displayed my Mom's glass Christmas tree and a ceramic tree made for me by my friend, Karen, a very talented artist, several years ago, along with a couple of mini-trees with their cute little minature ornaments! Christmas at Home, 2008:

The stairs all green and shiny with a favorite painting I did when we three lived in Galveston in 1979 and the boys and I went to the beach. A complete stranger wanted our photo, next thing I knew, I was painting it in classes I took at a local gallery. Wouldn't part with it for a billion dollars.

Our Christmas stockings - - Mine on the left (I used to be an avid runner and Sam picked out this particular stocking when he was about 6) and his stocking.

Steven's stocking is now joined next to his beautiful wife Lauren's stocking...elegant and in need of glitter...to be done.

I have many favorites in my collection of Christmas decorations, things that people have given me, treasures I made and have had for many, many Christmas' but probably my favorite is my ever growing collection of snow globes and nutcrackers. Snow globes being so shiny and bright and my nutcrackers standing at perfect attention.

My Coastal Santa came to me one Christmas from my dear friend, Carol, who (at that time) lived on Galveston Island. He is so heartwarming since I am from the coastal bay area...a barefoot Santa...only from Galveston Island.

A tradition since I was a new mother, back in 1975, was a letter to Santa. I would write to Santa all kinds of wishes for family and friends. I know he listens, I've seen my wishes come true and will continue this tradition for my grandchild. Of course, his/her letter will probably be sent to the North Pole.

There's a special little corner for my Mom's Mr. and Mrs. Santa Clause, as well as one given to me by my sister, and sitting in front is a basket of pine cones that I collect every year in December that have fallen from the pine tree near my mother's resting place. Its a gentle reminder of all the fun Christmas' we had in her home.

Knowing that we were made in the image of our Creator means that we are different from animals and all other creations. Being a man and woman made in God's image means we share a likeness with the most creative Being ever. So...no matter who you are, what you do, what talents you possess, you have the inherited ability to be creative. We each have the ability to learn and grow and to create original expressions of who we are, what we are about and what message we want to send to others. That's a wonderful thing...use your creativity to do something for someone else for Christmas, especially with all its potential adornment.

I make many of my own handmade cards, all of my own wreaths and am now into doing Christmas ornaments that light up to go UNDER the Christmas tree. They always seem to bring a special smile to the recipient. I not only enjoy the creating, but I enjoy the results. It helps me think outside the box and leaves my mind open to many possibilities. With all the boxes that I put myself into of work and even, unfortunately, with play, creating things has no boundaries. It gives me permission to "color outside the lines."

I was recently talking to fellow creators and the subject of Santa Clause came up. Where did he come from and what does he stand for? Seems as though we each our a version...all three not too different from the other. But to set the record straight...a little bit of trivia.

Our Santa Claus (a dutch-language version of St. Nicholas) is a modern characterization of fourth-century bishop of the Christian church in Myra, a land of "green hills, warm sum and soft sea breezes" in what is now, Turkey. According to A Gift from St. Nicholas, Cjrostome Bolley says that "St. Nicholas understood that life's real treasure is found in doing what is right in the eyes of God, and he discovered that joyful peace comes from loving others. He is remembered fondly for his anonymous efforts to give away his inherited wealth."

This is one of Karen's beautiful pieces of ceramics. I also have SNOW and JOY...they are all very special, as well as the ornaments she has made for my tree.

I recently took a photo opp on one of my many journeys around South Texas and ran across this beautiful church. As you can see it is the oldest Polish Catholic Church in the U.S., founded December 24, 1854. It is a beautiful church and these photos do not do it justice. Take a drive there someday and see for yourself.

PANNA MARIA, TEXAS Panna Maria (meaning Virgin Mary in Polish) was established in 1854 and is the oldest permanent Polish settlement in the USA. Father Leopold Moczygemba founded the historic Polish community of Panna Maria. He came to Texas in 1852 to serve the religious needs of German communities that had already been established. In letters to his family in Silesia, he spoke of the possibilities of an improved life for them in Texas. News that was shared by his family with friends. In 1854, about one hundred families made the journey to Texas and the new Polish community of Panna Maria was born from their courage, fortitude and desire to find a better live. Father Leopold Moczygemba (1824-1891): The son of of Leopold and Ewa (Krawietz) Moczygemba, Father Leopold was born on October 18, 1824 in Pluznica, a small community in Upper Silesia area of Poland. In 1843, the young Leopold made the decision to take on the devoted life of a Catholic priest. His early service was in northern Italy and then Bovaria before his calling took him to Texas in 1852. Today, Panna Maria's population has dewindled to less than the original numbers that settled here. In the year 2000, less than one hundred citizens were still living in Panna Maria. The symbolic "old oak tree" near which the they built their church remains standing as a historic living reminder of the first settlers. The church itself has been rebuilt.

Silent Night, Holy Night. Angels we have heard on high...Gloria. Let us adore him. Let us rejoice. The good news is that we have been given the perfect gift for making the best Christmas ever - - Christ. As we remember the simple birth of the Savior, we can give thanks for the miracle of His life. We can also give hope with each gift we give for a renewal of His Spirit in the lives of those we love. Simply remind them of the blessing of the Miracle, the hope and the wonder of Christ's life and death, and the impact on our lives. Worship Christ, renew old friendships, revive or start new personal and family traditions, and give gifts with joy, receive them with heartfelt gratitude and let the light of Bethlehem shine over you and all of your celebrations this year. And Good Night To All ~ Babs

Happy Thanksgiving to All

2008-11-27T07:45:00.017-06:00

It's a not so bright, foggy Thanksgiving morning. In typical Beverly fashion, I have the air conditioner on and the fireplace lit. Me, the "I don't cook, I don't camp, I don't hike and I don't bike...well, I'm cooking." Seems I've found people are grateful for what you create, they really seem to smile and that's a good thing. Not to count how it makes me feel. Cooking has never been my forte', or maybe it has just been a lazy excuse. Whatever the reason, I'm wading in the shallow end of the pool and cooking "just a little." Banana nut bread (6 loaves are in the oven) potato soup for later in the week-end and a Strawberry Rhubarb pie to take for dessert with friends later in the day. Thanksgiving lunch will be at the Hyatt Hill Country, accompanied by a big band and beautifully landscaped grounds...perfect for picture taking. Please keep your fingers crossed for the pie. It's been 20 years since I made it so I think I'll do an Indian dance just for good luck! I'm not sure why I've started cooking lately, and I continue to ask myself that question since I've not cooked...EVER. Noone actually ever taught me...does that sound reasonable? No, that's not a good excuse. I took home economics class like many of my high school girlfriends and somehow I think they cook every day. Surrounded by wonderful cooks as a youngster, I had a grandmother, mother and aunt that were "magicians in the kitchen." Even my sisters (younger) are great cooks. Janell makes the most wonderful Key Lime Pie and homemade yeast rolls and little Sissy, Karla, makes the best Broccoli Rice Casserole in the world. Just ask my boys...they love their aunts' cooking! L--R Sisters: Janell, Karla, Beverly As for me...I figure I can do other things. I'm not sure I ever fully appreciated all the labor and long hours my mother spent preparing for holiday meals. She used to tell us her daily routine when she was preparing Thanksgiving meal. You know...Monday: "Well, I have my celery all chopped and tomorrow I'm going to do my onions and peppers." We always knew that the day before Thanksgiving was all about "cornbread day." I never knew why...until she was gone and I found out that you need to make it the day before and "let it sit." I'm not sure what it is sitting for, but you must let the cornbread sit...what for, to go stale and hard? Everybody who makes cornbread stuffing says you let it sit (and not just a bit...but overnight)! Just the other day I asked my aunt: "Where ARE all those wonderful recipes for what you all made?" In their heads...that is where! She did tell me that my grandmother's pie crust recipe used to be on the Crisco can. Well, who's bought Crisco in 30 years? Not this girl...just picking it up would probably cause a 5 lb. weight gain. But, low and behold, in the market yesterday I peaked and by golly, there it was...on the Crisco can. I put it back quickly on the shelf for fear of people actually seeing me LOOK at Crisco...I mean who eats shortening? Besides the little dough boy has made that task much easier, it's definitely an edit to the Crisco pie crust and life seems to be about Easy and Edits. At least that is how I see it. Take this route...no that doesn't work, back up and go a different route. My life seems to be an ongoing movie script (and there has been a time [over the last 5 years, a friend and I were going to write a screenplay] but then we would have had to change the names to protect the guilty, so...only knowing the beginning and the middle...we never took it to the end. But we liked the idea...we could control exactly how we wanted it to end. Perhaps I need to call my friend Linda, that little ray of sunshine, and see if she's interested again...I'm the one with the vivid imagination and she's the writer. As I wrote to a friend this morning, we only have the ability to look at what works, or doesn't work for us, and edit or change our life, accordingly. I find it quite challenging at times to reinvent or edit my life, but it can be extremely self-empowering. Noone else can edit my life...I guess they could try, but I'm the one that has the choices to make and I can accept the script I've written or I can choose to reinvent and edit my life to a life that's fulfilling for me and hope that the people in my life benefit. Sometimes it's not easy making changes or editing my life script...I've certainly done it more times than I've wanted but it keeps getting better. I know that I'm responsible for the change to bring about improvement and fulfillment and work toward the life that makes me happy. Sitting at this computer and writing about it is so much easier...wouldn't it be great to just use the backspace key, or erase a line of text, start over and BOOM...all is changed. Not so easy. Recently, I told a friend I didn't carry around baggage...that I traveled fairly light. My boys raised, their educations' complete, on their own...its only me to worry about. Yeah, right! We all carry around baggage and sometimes clutch to it like some one is going to snatch it away from us and own it as their own. Most people I know just tend to hold on to their own...not worrying about someone else's baggage. You know those unhealthy, often times negative thoughts about a past relationship...maybe not so great in looking back...in fact, probably unhealthy...and there we clutch our baggage for way too long. I'm working to let go...move on, rewrite and take out of that baggage those things that just didn't suit me and take the good to the next chapter of my life. My cousin reminsced recently about her college days when she was dating her "to be husband of 40+ years." How he would come around, call and talk and then disappear! They would talk and talk and then she wouldn't hear from him for a while. When she asked him about it..."where do you go?" His response was" Well, we talked so much you filled me up...didn't have anything to talk about for a while." I never looked at it like that. There he was this All American Basketball Player, the ultimate jock with such words of wisdom. What a positive way of telling a person what they do to "fill that empty space" in their life. Helping to bring fulfillment and happiness to another's life. When we take out the stressful activities in our life or disassociate ourself from people who drain our energy and JUST LET GO of the baggage that doesn't fit us anymore, we have lots and lots of empty spaces and can fill those spaces with anything we like. It leaves lots of places for positive people and experiences, healthy relationships and friendships, more laughter and a lot of love. Deeper friendships, healthier and loving relationships, seeking out adventure over tedium (hey, I went hiking not long ago...something I said I didn't do and I loved the whole experience). You would have thought I was climbing a mountain...it instilled in me a confidence I didn't know I had and replaced a moment in my time, an empty place that I didn't realize was there, and filled it with a relaxing sense of accomplishment when I might otherwise have been fretting or putzing about accomplishing little. On this Thanksgving day, I am thankful for my life, all of my family and my friends who are a positive, loving force in my life. They know who they are, they have brought me such love and laughter, many moments of joy and they continue to add to every chapter of my life. I'll continue to make changes, hoping they are always for the better, that I become a better person and and fill those empty spots with a love for life, thankfulness and wisdom, in the hopes that I can give back to those who have given so much to me and my life. Happy Thanksgiving to all.

~Babs

IT'S WONDER~ FALL

2008-10-17T19:29:00.038-05:00

EVeRwHeRe I go, I feel, smell and see Fall...it's in the Air. It's absolutely WonderFall. In South Texas it's that time of the year when you wonder if it's ever going to rain and when will it be chilly enough to light the fireplace. But I find the Fall to be a time of reflection and rest...for the garden that is, not necessarily me...except for the reflection. Time to put the garden to sleep and let Mother Nature take it's course with no guidance from you, the master of your garden. Though I love my sun loving roses,

my cool weather flower friend is the bougainvilla. See mine below that I have toted around from home in Texas City, where I lived by the water, all the way to San Antonio where it still flourishes. It's beautiful...but it's a thorny little sucker!

Funny thing about the bougainvilla. The more you mistreat it...the better it flourishes. Mine is all "mooshed" with a jasmine growing on a fence that I had built for Tag, my son and daughter-in-awe's beautiful Boxer. I thought he would be visiting a lot when he was a puppy and I had the great idea to kennel him as a little pup so he couldn't make a mess in the house or my backyard gardens since my home is rather "girlish" shall we say. Think pale yellow living room and pale carpet... but oh, no, Tag came visiting with his own quilt pallet and pillow, found his own spot in the corner by the books where he would rest and sleep and he didn't bother a soul. He still sleeps on that spot while we take time out for a movie or shopping and waits for us patiently to return. I don't think Tag has ever gone near the dog kennel designed especially for him. Tag is a very special and talented dog. When given the choice, he's always going to take the baseball field as his playground of choice and indoors vs. outdoors. See, Mom, he can shake hands...:-)

So Tag's kennel has now become a "catch all" plant hospital. This bougainvilla is a cutting from my Mom's and every now and again I 'll throw it a bit of food and water, but most of the time I just ignore it and it provides me beautiful blooms as the nights become chillier and the days shine. The beautiful bougainvilla blooms always remind me that Fall is in the air. But then visiting the pumpkin patches reminds me that it's time to celebrate the arrival of a new season and with the little tykes out searching for their perfect pumpkin, with Mom and Dad in tote with their own personal choices, it's easy for the little ones to become distracted with something as simple as a leaf blowing along the path, which is why I think it should be a national holiday.

Isn't this little pumpkin' eater adorable and soooo typical ~ take him looking for pumpkins and he gets distracted with leaves! When I took my little ones to look for their pumpkins, but never with the intention of cooking the pumpkin, it was always for decorating the doorstep. No decorating with the knife, though, always with the magic marker. This family of jack-o-lanterns lives a couple of miles from me and I'm in awe of the creativity put into each jack-o-lantern.

Later I moved on to store bought, pre-lit, hard plastic pumpkins. I still have my sons' pumpkins and we always had 3 little pumpkins sitting on our door step just under the Fall Wreath that would hang on the front door changing from a summer wreath to an autumn foliage. Sometimes I don't have an actual wreath but always sign the door with a little spot of seasonal color to greet those who visit with a little season reminder. In 1975 there was one little pumpkin, then 1977, two little pumpkins (3 counting me) to show the world how many pumpkins were in our little house and now I have another out on the porch that greets my trick or treaters, to indicate a new little pumpkin to our family, my precious daughter-in-awe, Lauren.

Why I ever thought it would be one pumpkin per person for our family, I'll never know. Now I almost have a whole family of pumpkins, FOUR. Sorry Tag...just didn't count you in. It's what I do. Many hours have been spent helping my boys, over the years, figure out what they want to be on Halloween. One of my favorite was when my youngest son, Sam, had a neighbor friend who had a terrible accident and had her neck broken. Nothing doing...he was going to keep the spirit of trick-or-treat going. He dressed as a ho-bo and Kristen dressed as an angel using her "halo" that stabilized her neck as sort of a halo with her angel wings. Of course, we always have our little goblins coming around for the treat and I like to have a little something on hand for them if they venture to the doorway, though usually I don't keep a candy stash. Dimes, pennies, little surprise bag of treats...they don't care. It's like they just want to hear the "kerplunk" that goes in their bag and off they go...on for their next surprise. I continue to be amazed at just how pretty our little witches are becoming. Think they are watching Runway Model already? Aren't these two of the prettiest little witches you've ever seen...and they are all the way over in Australia!

In my early days of motherhood at pumpkin time, searching for a recipe to cook the pumpkin after Halloween, was quite a treasure hunt before the days of the internet. Truly, look in all your cookbooks and see if you can find where it tells you HOW to cook the inside of the pumpkin. Couldn't find it in mine...bought the pumpkin but off to the market to fetch a can of pumpkin filling to do the pie. Look like it tasted pretty good to those who indulged! Fall lends itself to a time of reflection and an appreciation of nature. To me, Fall is about harvest, reflection bringing about change, foliage and the changing of the blooms, leaves and blossoms.

It reminds me that with the change of seasons, we are reminded of the cycles of life that change as quickly as a river filled, moves on, curves and follows its path.

Here today, then it's gone and tomorrow brings about another change. Is this true of a whole lifetime? Funny how I welcome the change of our seasons (which some days can only mean the difference of 10 degrees) but tend to resist the change in my life. I find myself wanting to hold on to things of the past, though I'm working on it and trying to do better, because guess what? Something really great may be just up the road ahead! Everything in my life that has changed, to today, has turned out to bring happier times, better times and each change becomes a little easier.

My mother and my grandmother used to say: "Everything comes full circle. " I know that to be true now... I am older and wiser though at times I still tend to resist...to change that is, in my personal life. Even from looking at my flowers and trees

and enjoying the change from summer to fall, I know they can't hold on to their beautiful leaves, blooms and blossoms...the same ones are not going to reappear but the new ones that return may just be prettier than the first blooms.

While I don't want to change or leave where I am...I am exactly where I would rather be! Happy Halloween, Wonder-Fall to All.

~Enjoying the Fall at The Plaza, San Antonio, TX.~

~Babs

SEPTEMBER AND ITS STORMS...

2008-09-15T21:55:00.047-05:00

There are numbers and dates that I would often times just like to skip. Forget they are coming around, flip the calendar and go on to the next day, God willing. The 9th month of the year, as in September. First it was September 11th when I was 11. Then there was what we all know of as 9-11, of which I won't write about here but would like it erased of not only my memory by that of the many families it affected and hurt. Now we have 9.13.08...the day that Hurricane Ike made landfall and roared ashore in Galveston County, Texas where most of my family and friends live and made it's way up Interstate 45 through Houston, Texas where my youngest son, Sam, lives. Those are three nine's and days in that month that don't have good memories but are forever etched in my heart. Well, there is one September--- 9.11.1900 when one of my most loved persons, and who I was named after, was born...my grandmother, Annie, who came into this world a little Choctaw Indian, born in Non, OK. She was my Mama Rush who could whip up anything in her kitchen on a moment's notice, sit for hours with me on a Saturday night, on a little sofa for 2, putting S & H Green stamps in little books and letting me pick out what our next "prize" was going to be. Mama Rush could grow anything, sew my skimpy little tops from feed sacks, push around the chickens like they were placed in her chicken pen for the sole purpose of Sunday's chicken and dumplings, and she was one of my two biggest cheerleaders.

I have been blessed with two cheerleaders in my lifetime...so far...My Mama Rush and My Tis, my Mom's older sister. Most everybody in the family called her "Sister." Well, she wasn't my sister and that was a lot to get out so I shortened it to "Tis." Works for me. Selfishly, I call her my Tis but she's also Tis to my sisters and brother and my boys. High school boyfriends, girlfriends, co-workers...well, they all know her as "Tis." Mama Rush was there on another 9.11.1961 when Hurricane Carla struck Port 'O Connor, TX and Port LaVaca, TX. Hurricane Carla was known as the most intense hurricane aimed at the Texas coast during that time and it came ashore lashing out at Louisiana and Texas with 173 mile-per-hour winds and battering 11 foot tides, even while the center was still miles out at sea. There were more than 400,000 residents who fled the coast in Texas and Louisiana and my family fled and my family lost everything (materially, that is). We didn't lose each other...for that I am thankful. I lost my beloved piano (except that eventually, it was replaced by a beautiful spinet). After that ferocious storm I had to watch my Dad figure out how to get my piano out of our 6-week old living room. We had lived in a little house in Texas City about 15 miles from Galveston and that little house sustained the wind damage of 150 mph winds, plus, with a storm surge of 22 feet. An evacuation journey we took to get away from that monster storm...with lots of little trials and tribulations along the way. Somebody, I don't know who, probably my Dad, made the executive decision that we were all to leave my hometown of Texas City to get out of the way of the impending Hurricane Carla, except Dad, of course. He wasn't going to leave. My mother didn't want to...I couldn't blame her. Make the decision to make the decision or make the decision to leave. She and Dad (ages 30 and 28 at that time) had finally bought their little dream house 6 weeks before. New furniture, new stove, new television...everything new that I remember. Oh, it was not fancy but it was brick and it was new and sat on the end of a dead end street - sort of like we owned the street. Best part was our neighbors were 3 horses on 5 acres. But about the house...we even had air conditioners but generally slept with the windows open. I can still remember the smell and the sounds of that little house. Most definitely I remember EVERYBODY begging and yelling at me to come out of the little one bathroom that we 5 shared. Even though we were very lucky and had air conditioners, we usually slept with the windows open. Windows open for me was bittersweet...allergies that I'm pretty sure I inherited from my cousin, Norma, but on the other hand, being able to listen to the horses stomping around, looking for grass and probably waiting for me to come out - which I did to my mother's chagrin, many times, late at night. How fun it was to listen to the horses come up close to my bedroom window and sniff and snort, thinking I might come out to pet them one last time - - they seemed to never sleep, but eat day and night. They were there when I went to sleep and they were there when I woke up. Do you think feeding them apples made them loyal? No wonder I fell in love with horses at a young age. But back to Hurricane Carla and 9.11.1961. Off in our vehicles we pulled the family together, Mom, Mama Rush, Dadaw, my little sister, Janell, my little brother Dwain and me, in our car and in their car was my mother's brother, wife and their two kids, and off we went with what seemed like a mass exodus driving and driving until we could find a motel. Our landfall was just outside Dallas, Tx., in what would be classified now as, probably, a Motel 8. I'm not talking a Marriott...that's for sure. But we know we were lucky to find rooms, period. Once we found a motel, our first injury of the storm occurred. My mother, who always seemed to fall prey to some mishap, had the car door blow backwards on her while she was fetching stuff out of the car and it knocked her in the forehead...so off we went to find an emergency room to get her cleaned up and stitched up. I was 11 and I had visions of her going brain dead and me having to drive our car home - - my Mama Rush didn't drive, Dadaw had to ride the brakes on the passenger side and be the navigator, and my sister and brother played with little plastic soldiers and funny little cars in the back seat like they didn't have a care in the world. Well, I guess they didn't. They were about 5 and 4...what did they know about hurricanes and having to drive? Nothing... and they probably didn't care who drove. Mom recovered with a couple of stitches and we stayed couped up for a few days cooking on a little hot plate and sandwiches (I still do not like sandwiches, yuk). I told them straight up: "I could survive on french fries, you know." Nothing doing, it was just like my Mama Rush to try to fix something hot...on a hot plate, no doubt! But back to the evacuation. My sister and brother played around the motel with their dumb little cars and soldiers and I read. It was nice to not have to babysit since all the adults were there with nothing to do. Janell and Dwain probably don't remember it but they actually got along quite well back then...I was the mean big sister. Didn't want to be bothered...too many books to read! We had left Dad behind because he worked for the Galveston County Sheriff's Dept. and it was mandatory that he stay. We didn't think too much of it...as far as I was concerned, he was immortal. Nothing could hurt my Dad. 100 mph winds knock over that 130 lb. fellow? I don't think so. Not high winds, water, fast cars, or even a fast lifestyle. Hurricane Carla just about got him though...the flirty, good looking skinny guy, the James Dean look-alike, barely made it out alive when he fell in a man hole in front of Texas City's City Hall. Dad (in the Bardahl shirt with his racing sponsor "Tater Pete") 1956 My "Father of the Bride, 1969". It seems like an every day event these days as we watch hurricanes blow in on almost any channel you turn on to watch. Can you even imagine...weather men and women standing out in the 100 mph winds like it is a sport (and it probably is to them) as they all try to imitate the very first live television broadcast of a hurricane by Dan Rather. Yep, Dan Rather was made famous by Hurricane Carla on the seawall of Galveston Island. It's just a guess but I think that is why so many of the weathermen now haunt that same spot...to somehow put their mark on that place in history. Yes, my little family lost everything to Hurricane Carla and my parents had to start over with the help of the Red Cross. They were so good to us and I still give to the Red Cross when I have a bit to share, knowing they are always helping those whose turn it has come and have disaster pass through their life. My Dad sometimes (many years later) told my mother that we didn't even have "butt prints" on the sofa because she wouldn't let anyone sit on her new sofa. We did after the sofa was replaced. She said she wasn't saving it anymore. I come from a long line of "savers." My grandmother would save everything from a new hair comb for her long silver hair to a salt shaker someone gave her as a gift. When I find myself doing the same thing, particularly about shoes, I pause to remember that saving them today may result in never having the memory for tomorrow. So wear those glitzy shoes, I do. We returned from that hurricane but couldn't get into our home because it was totally inhabitable. 5 feet of water, 2 feet of mud, everything was gone. We had tried to take a few things but never imagined it would take the toll on our lives such as it did. I still have photos that were wet and yes, I still need to have them restored...it's on the list. The house was standing in one piece, with brick that you could actually shake and rattle, and that's more than I can say for our neighbors home, the Joiner's, across the street. One of the 26 tornadoes that Hurricane Carla spawned touched down right across the street from our house and took the whole house, leaving only a commode on the foundation. It was 6 weeks before we could go back home. I started school in my grandmother's little town, Arcadia, TX. It seemed like a nightmare, trying to make new friends, all the while knowing they weren't going to be forever friends, just short time friends. I don't remember much about those six weeks except I wore my cousin's clothes and my grandmother just kept washing them over and over. Good for me that my cousin, Christine, and I have always been the same size...runt-size, that's what my Grandmother would say about that! I also remember the phone ringing and noone on the other end. Later found out that it was Dad trying to make contact but all the power and telephone lines were down in Texas City. When we were finally able to go home, we had a home that resembled what I think a convent would look like. Twin beds, no frills and no carpet. Bare essentials. You know...like how we all dream about "downsizing as we approach retirement?" Yeow, right. No stuff and the stuff we did have was full of mud. I had a stuffed bear...you know one of those big goofy looking things you get at the carnival (except mine came from the stock car races...a blog for another time about my Dad) and one of my Dad's friends had to take a knife to him. He was too heavy to lift. That little house still has its bruises (that I know about) from that storm. There are bruises in my heart from that storm which is what made this September's storm touch a nerve. My youngest son, Sam, was in Houston, Texas, with Hurricane Ike headed his way. So let's fast forward many hurricane seasons and many, many named hurricanes later, many names which now have been retired and we come to 2008 and Hurricane Ike. But before I give you all the low down on how Hurricane Ike roared into my family's patch of geography, here's a quick run down of Retired Names in Hurricane History - Atlantic Storms: Not all of them, but the ones I remember. Alicia, Beulah, Camille, Carla (hey...did I tell you I have a sister by that name 15 years younger than me...a little hurricane blowing into our lives like no other [ and now she has her own little hurricane, Taylor] and I wouldn't trade her), My Little Sister (above) and her little daughter (below) Look-Alikes! Then there was Hurricanes Celia, Hilda (I remember good old Hilda because it was the next year after Carla and I thought "oh, no here we go again" but turns out Hilda decided to visit Louisiana. Then there was Keith that I remember because I was going to vacation in Belize and we all saw Keith headed that way and quickly got our money back, and on to Hurricane Rita, which was a whole blog in itself and I'll give you my little snippets of info a bit later on about Rita, "hunker down, "Margarita's and Sam's 15 hour drive home, to San Antonio. People often wonder why names are retired and goof that I am, I looked it up so I would know. Hurricanes that cause a major impact on lives or economy are remembered generations after the devastation... so they go into weather history. When a hurricane has a devastating impact, any country affected can request that the name of the hurricane be "retired" by agreement of the World Meteorological Organization (WMO) but it actually means that it just cannot be reused for at least 10 years so as to facilitate historic references, legal actions and insurance claims (lest we not confuse the insurance companies) and it avoids confusion with another storm of the same name. THEN ALONG CAME IKE ~~~~~~

On September 10, Pres. George W. Bush made an emergency declaration for Texas in advance of Hurricane Ike, in order to make federal help available for preparations and evacuations. On September 11, forecasting models began to show Ike making landfall just south of Galveston.

Now mind you, we were all in Hurricane mode at the clinic I work for in Beeville, TX, because Beeville is only one hour away from Corpus Christi, TX. However, Ike had a mind of his own. He just needed to make up his mind where he was going to go, how fast he was going to go and who or where he was going to reek havoc.

In Galveston, City Manager Steve LeBlanc late on Wednesday issued a mandatory evacuation order for the low lying west end of Galveston Island. Later, the mandatory evacuation order was extended to the entire island of Galveston, as well as low-lying areas around Houston, Tx.

On September 11, (HERE WE GO AGAIN WITH MY LEAST FAVORITE NUMBER - 9.11) at 8:19 p.m. the National Weather Service in Galveston had issued a strongly worded bulletin, regarding storm surge along the shoreline of Galveston Bay. The bulletin advised residents living in single-family homes in some parts of coastal Texas they may face "certain death" if they do not heed orders to evacuate. Reports said as many as 40 percent of Galveston's citizens may have not paid attention to the warnings and there was fear of much the same in Port Arthur, Tx.

The prediction was that low-lying areas between Morgan City, LA, and Baffin Bay, TX, east of the projected eye of Hurricane Ike, would experience the greatest damage from storm surges of up to 20 feet. Waves at sea were expected to be higher, up to 70 feet according to computer simulations.

To no one’s surpise, the price of gas increased in the expectation of damage to some of the numerous oil refineries along the South Texas coast, or at least delays in production from the oil and gas platforms in the Gulf of Mexico.

We battened down the hatch in Beeville and late on Thursday, Ike decided he would roar on in to Galveston, Texas, taking his path up IH-45 to Houston. Anyone who lives along the Gulf Coast, or along any coastal town, for that matter, knows the real threat of Septembers and Hurricanes. Houston, however, has only been hit by two Category 3 or stronger storms in the last 50 years---yeppers- Hurricane Carla (later classified as a Category 4 because they didn't categorize them in 1961) and Alicia, who came in roaring like a freight train with a machine gun, on August 18, 1983 blowing out windows in Houston like a war torn ravaged town. Both storms caused enough damage, and wreaked enough havoc, to have their "names" retired from the list at the Natioinal Hurricane Center.

I really wanted Sam to come home (San Antonio, TX has been home for me since 1994) when Ike was threatening with 23 foot storm surges.

Even before Ike made landfall, the rising storm surge began spilling over the Galveston Seawall with 17-ft. breaks. Although Seawall Boulevard is elevated above the shoreline, lots of folks don't realize that many parts of the town slope down, behind the seawall, to the lower elevation of Galveston Island. By 6 p.m. on Friday night, estimates were varying as to how many of the almost 60,000 residents had stayed to ride out the storm. My little sister, Janell, has worked at the University of Texas Medical Branch (though she does not live on the Island), and it had massive flooding, as did the Galveston County Courthouse, with six feet of flooding.

On up the road in Houston, Sam and his neighbors had boarded up the townhouse unit with optimistic caution and all had decided to ride it out. I felt a bit better knowing that Sam's townhouse was in the middle of the complex (1 unit to his left and 2 to his right) so I thought he would be a little more protected. We began text messaging about 8 p.m. and though I didn't tell him, it was the tornadoes I was concerned about. With his optimistic nature, you would have thought he was on an outing of some sort and was going to wake up to the smell of bacon and eggs in the forest the next morning. Of course, I knew better. I feared not only for his safety, but his life. I never even told him (guess he will know now) that I really wanted to drive down there since I felt so "experienced" with these things. That would be me...the goofy Mom going up the highway, the wrong way, headed to the hurricane, not from it.

But, I don't think experience is the word. How about just middle age and having gone through a few storms...of course remembering Hurricane Carla all the time. But, optimistic he is, he stayed through the night text messaging back and forth and convincing me that all was okay. Reports were showing that the eye wall was going to pass directly through Houston and that was the worst part. Fearing he would think "all is well" and relax his guard. I think after he lost power, whatever relax he had...well, it was gone. Same said for his patience. Don't we all take air conditioning for granted and the other little things in life like hot water and ice? Well, I gave in to my tiredness about 2:30 in the morning, hoping and praying for the best but just not able to stay awake. He had been reassuring that all was well so off to bed I went hoping the media was wrong. It was going to take a different path...they can do that, you know. No messages came through during the night but when I woke on Sunday morning, first thing I could think of was to "text Sam." I did, and let me tell you the message I got back was "No power, Mom, when is this thing going to move on?" Even in a text message, I had the sense that there was no more tolerance, no patience but he wasn't leaving his home. I believe, though he's never said it that the wind had been loud and strong and a sense of "doubting about staying" must have set in.

As a historical comparison, I read that the September 8, 1900 Galveston Hurricane landed along a path similar to Ike's bringing with it a storm surge that inundated most of Galveston Island, and at that time, Galveston was Texas' largest city and a major U. S. port. Much of Galveston was destroyed and over 6,000 people were killed. That storm resulted in increasing the elevation of the island by 4 feet and building of the 17 foot seawall to block incoming waves. Guess Global Warming wasn't on the radar screen at that time.

Sam's home weathered it fairly well and he was absorbing it all, trying to get things done in an orderly fashion but I think we all know recovery after a hurricane like Ike is anything but "orderly." The beautiful city of Houston had windows broken all over downtown and the power outages were major...really major. Some parts of Houston are still without power and are not expected to have power for several more weeks. Fortunately, the storm moved quickly (though I doubt Sam would agree with that) so flooding wasn't a major problem for the city, as it normally is as a result of the geography. Ike had made landfall at Galveston, TX on 9.13.2008 at 2:10 a.m., as a Category 2 hurricane with winds of 110 mph. The storm had hurricane force winds extending 275 miles and 120 miles, respectively, from the center.

Ike didn't stop there...he kept on moving...merging with a large cold front moving from west to east across the central United States and became extratropical. There were heavy rains throughout the Midwest.

As for San Antonio, temperatures remained in the 90's with sunshine and no chance of rain in sunny San Antonio, TX where there is, on average, 252 sunshiny days a year. Still no rain. Need to go water, by hand, of course, we are on water rations. A few photos of Ike - http://www.boston.com/bigpicture/2008/09/the_short_but_eventful_life_of.html Babs ~