“In learning to learn again, we can learn of this wisdom and allow our children (and so ourselves) to become the free, whole individuals this good earth has prepared us to be.”

― Joseph Chilton Pearce

 

We’ve all had rites of passage. It’s a familiar term but when you ask someone, it may be difficult to nail down a concrete definition. Each society has specific events that occur that mark important transitions in life. These change with history. We’re not celebrating a teens’ first cattle drive or when grandpa’s pocketknife was passed down.

These days it’s the first day of school, driver’s license or getting an Apple watch.

Individuals don’t invent their own private rites of passage. These are cultural markers that provide meaning and entry into the larger civilization. What can you remember as you grew up? How did you know for sure you had “arrived” at a new age/stage?

The Passage to the Front Seat

I instigated such a rite this week. My grandson has completed 2nd grade. He is eight years old. That means, in Texas, he has graduated from the car seat. Allow me to remind you that when I was his age my comrades and I rolled around in the beds of pickup trucks like sacks of wet laundry. Look how far we’ve come.

My grandchildren (both of them) and I spent the day together earlier in the week. I told him, he’d now graduated from the booster seat in the back to the front seat. Welcome to the world of the windshield and the Star Trek dashboard. He didn’t have much to say but did immediately begin to fiddle with all the buttons.

What I was not prepared for were the immediate first words from his four-year-old sister who has spent her entire life strapped in the backseat with her brother’s constant company.

“It’s lonely back here!”

On the verge of tears.

Ugh. How to solve that terrible problem I had not anticipated?

We have a life size stuffed toy bear at home that both the kids have grown up with. Doesn’t every Baylor family have one?

“We will get Mr. Bear and buckle him into the seat back there with you. That will help, won’t it?”

“Can we go get him right now?”

“Can you still see the map from back there? Is the arrow going in the right direction”

Nothing like a little distraction. She is Sacajawea – from her car seat behind me, making sure I am always heading in the right direction (and not ending up in Ft. Worth). My new co-pilot sitting beside me has now decided to use the digital map to locate geographic sites.

“We are about to cross a creek.”

Maybe they will grow up to become meteorologists. That’s the other career their grandmother secretly wanted to pursue.

An Afternoon at the Movies

“People leave traces of themselves where they feel most comfortable, most worthwhile.” ― Haruki Murakami

We went to a movie on our day together. That was a ritual that their grandmother liked to do almost every week. Back when they made movies. I played the Star Wars preview to be sure it would interest a four- and eight-year-old. Oh yes, we want to go! Famous last words.

When I was eleven, I got dumped off at the movies by myself while the adults shopped at the mall. It was not a kids movie. That’s not a rite of passage. I guess in the 70’s that’s another thing that was okay?

It was lunch time, pizza was on the menu at the theater. So many options these days ($$). Of course, they each chose a bright red drink. Has Secretary Kennedy fixed those yet? I got the giant barrel of popcorn, only 50 cents more than medium. Thinking this would keep everyone busy.

“We don’t have pizza ready to sell yet.”

Said the only guy working concessions that day. It was 1:30 in the afternoon. He probably just got up a little while ago. Summer break has started, right? We made our way to the wrong theater. The ticket girl was very friendly but seemed to mostly mumble and smile as she watched us walk through the doors opposite the ones we should have gone into. There was no one else in the dimly lit hall. Seemed like directions would be easy to give as she watched us with her bright smile.

There were just a few others in the giant auditorium with us. The previews were mostly kid friendly. What a relief. I’m glad I got the giant popcorn. I did forget to caution both kids to pace their red drinks and not gulp them down like pirates within five minutes of being seated. So much to remember.

My grandson is a bottomless pit. Though he has become picky at mealtimes. He seems always ready to eat something in between. At eight years old he has also learned how put me in the palm of his hand. The film was just minutes into the action-packed character introductions (after 30 minutes of previews and commercials!). He leaned over and softly said to me,

“You should go check and see if they are ready to sell pizza yet.”

He doesn’t miss much. Does need to be reminded to tie his shoes. The theater sells Pizza Hut products and are very proud of them. The hurried clerk did have some ready to heat up but cautioned that they were small, I should get two. By the time I got back to the seats, I think both children had made trips to the bathrooms. I also missed the part where Jabba the Hut produced an heir. Who would date someone like that? I guess I’ll see that part when it comes out on HBO.

“What are we, if not an accumulation of our memories?” –  S.J. Watson

This was too much movie for a four-year-old. But she hung in like a trooper. Much of the time laying on me in the fancy reclining seat. I’m hoping for Toy Story to be shorter when it arrives next month.

Our lives are a series of passages through time and experience. There are big deal turns in this path as we make our way – like first steps, graduations, baptisms, learning to read, marriages, births and moving up to the front seat. Then there is everything else. All the other habits and events that we build our days with, that make living mean so much when we look back over our shoulder. Popcorn and pizza seem so mundane. An afternoon together, part of our passage into a beloved future.

Keep making those memories, every little moment is one important step in your passage of life.

“Everybody needs his memories. They keep the wolf of insignificance from the door.” ― Saul Bellow

 

 

“Life isn’t about waiting for the storm to pass…It’s about learning to dance in the rain.” ― Vivian Greene

Tornados are wiping out homes across the Midwest this season. I saw news a report that a brand-new home was taken down to the foundation. The family, huddled in the basement storm shelter, were all safe.

In my circles this week, it seems like there are a lot of family and friends having their own storms tearing up life. In my academic field of study, there’s a branch that focuses on disaster research. It was always fascinating to me that from that perspective, the tornado wasn’t really the disaster. It was planting a mobile home in a geographic region where those storms strike with regularity every year.

I don’t know why I’m witnessing this season of disaster for so many. My prayer list is filling up with names of people with health crises. Others are traveling terrible dark journeys of their own making. A trip to the repair shop as medical procedures are on the calendar. Others are navigating emergencies regarding their aging parents. I have friends who are making choices that involve relocating. It’s a wonderful shift but always brings with it levels of stress and strain.  It’s been almost a year for me since my own move – there’s the good, the bad and the ugly. 

We get to this age/stage and thought our world would be relatively predictable. And then it’s not.

“The future is certain. It is just not known.” ― Johnny Rich

Second grade graduation was this morning. I don’t remember that kind of ceremony when I was that age or when I had a second grader myself. But now, with a grandson, it’s a big deal. Mine was keeping his friends sitting near him up to speed on directions the softspoken teacher was whispering into the microphone and he made sure distracted neighbors didn’t forget their certificates left on the floor. I hope he keeps that helpful quality the rest of his life. All I wanted to do as I looked on from a distance was comb his hair.

Three classes of students, all fidgeting in their rows were recognized for academic achievements, perfect attendance, reading the most books and even typing skills. The best part was watching kids crane their necks looking out into the packed cafeteria full of family. Each one trying to find that recognizable face. The light in their eyes when they saw how much they mattered.

In Houston it was hurricanes and floods. Up here in North Texas, it’s tornados and hail. No matter where you live, when disaster approaches (or is currently hailing down on you), a storm cellar is a good idea. I mean the metaphorical kind. The Hurricane Harvey flood in Houston did NOT call for a cellar of any kind!

When we go through terrible times, even those of our own making, we need refuge. Often that means people who will call on the phone (notice I did not use the word text). We need answers at times, from those who’ve been there before. Sometimes just a silent presence to listen. A push out the door. An honest piece of feedback that no one else has the guts to share. Someone to comb your hair. Good friends to send you a song from the past. A place to hide out for a while. Someone to guard the door and keep the ladies with casseroles away. She was there holding your hand in the waiting room. He drove you to rehab. They came over and cleaned up your house and never said a word about it. All these living places of shelter that kept you safe from the storm.

Maybe someone you know needs some shelter right now. I hear some distant thunder.

“The internet was supposed to open up the world and make our small worlds bigger. Instead of a wide-angle lens, it turned into an electron microscope — narrowing everything down to timelines, algorithms, and micro-issues, leaving us in a darkened room, eyes pressed to the glass, unable to see the walls closing in.”
― Lawrence Nault

People in America experience alarming rates of isolation and loneliness. It’s not getting better, only worse. What happens when the storm comes and there’s no place for refuge?

“You will never forget a person who came to you with a torch in the dark…” ― Anonymous

 

 

“It’s paradoxical that the idea of living a long life appeals to everyone, but the idea of getting old doesn’t appeal to anyone.” ― Andy Rooney

People started calling him “sir.” It seemed to have happened overnight. He knew that the countdown clock could not be stopped. Years ago, he had moved his birthday, but that hadn’t worked at keeping the old grey wolf from his door. There were several actions he knew that he could take to slow down the debilitating effects of getting old and to keep his life healthy and whole:

• Make and keep social connections
• Follow a healthy diet
• Remain cognitively challenged
• Stay up and move with exercise every day
• AND get regular sleep each 24 hours

“What hath night to do with sleep?”  ― John Milton

After his wife passed away, he could no longer sleep at night. Every now and then a very brief nap was possible. But those were too rare to even dream about.

Every morning at 4am, he rolled over and looked at the digital numbers shining from the clock. What was it about this hour that brought him back from slumber? It happened again and again. Some sort of internal mechanism, like an alarm, tapped him awake. There weren’t any cows to milk or chickens to chase. He did record coyotes howling outside his front door playing chase on the golf course in the middle of the night. It is reported that Martha Stewart only gets 3-4 hours of sleep each night. She’s now 84. Lack of sleep doesn’t seem to be slowing her down.

“I’ve always envied people who sleep easily. Their brains must be cleaner, the floorboards of the skull well swept, all the little monsters closed up in a steamer trunk at the foot of the bed.” ― David Benioff

Eventually, he went shopping for a new bed. This would surely solve the problem. Feeling like Goldilocks, he got one that was not too firm and not too soft, but just right. Once it was delivered he learned it would take six weeks to break in. There’s always the fine print. It was suggested that he walk on his new bed. This would release the inner magic and make his bed the perfect escape for dreaming. On their next several visits, he had his grandchildren dance a jig atop the bed and learn some classic pop music moves. They’d never heard of moonwalking.

“He was afraid of touching his own wrist. He never attempted to sleep on his left side, even in those dismal hours of the night when the insomniac longs for a third side after trying the two he has.” ― Vladimir Nabokov

After years of using over the counter drugs to help chase down his dreams he did some research. This strategy was no longer going to work. Prolonged use promised to turn his brain to mashed potatoes. Since there was no one in his future who would be willing to change his diapers, he was going to have to come up with a new plan. The doctor urged becoming less dependent on medications. He thought this a great plan, as he tossed and turned night after night. There were all sorts of sleep-inducing gummies, hormones, minerals like magnesium and even taking a little cannabis (that’s pot!). Nothing seemed to do the trick. Hypnos could not be lured from his dark cave.

He had tried cognitive and physical methods with mixed results. Counting backwards from 100 helped keep his mind from focusing on solving the global issues of the day. While waiting to nod off, he had written four or five novels in his head, a chapter a night. Deep breathing from the gut had been suggested on the news. Drinking herbal teas while he reread books he had saved from his great giveaway was a pleasant practice. But did it really put him to sleep and keep him there? Mostly it guaranteed a middle of the night trip to the bathroom.

“One of the Georges – I forget which – once said that a certain number of hours’ sleep each night – I cannot recall at the moment how many – made a man something which for the time being has slipped my memory.” ― P.G. Wodehouse

As time passed he learned some lessons about what to do when unable to sleep:

• Don’t keep tossing and turning like a rotisserie chicken. Pull out a book, turn on the lamp and read a chapter or two.
• The TV or phone screen can make the insomnia effect worse.
• Turning temperature down in the evening helps. He and his wife always had an ongoing civil war over the thermostat.

To mask the banging and bouncing of the children’s soccer team living above him, he had ocean sounds playing on his phone all night. Awaking during his night vigil, the rhythmic crashing waves actually sounded like someone frying chicken in the next room. Had he really been transported to a KFC?

Everyone he met had advice to give about improving sleep. Many in his age group were also suffering the same plague. Drink this, don’t drink that. Get some exercise, but not too late. Keep a regular schedule. Eliminate as much stress and anxiety as possible. Saying your prayers is always a good strategy. He learned that people who lived alone have a higher risk of insomnia. Maybe he needed a cat? No, that’s never a good idea. He did notice a lot of younger singles walking giant dogs past his window each evening after returning from work. How did those beasts spend their lonely days? Watching The Bold And The Beautiful?

When his grandchildren spent the night, they slept in his big comfortable bed with him. Both were in the habit of popping up before the sun to declare with gusto, “I’m starving!” On these nights, he slept in one or two hour shifts, keeping a watchful eye on each sleeping child. What must it be like to dream in such peace? This moment in time would pass so quickly. Sooner than could be imagined they would each launch into their own busy lives. He would see them in only fits and spurts. Wakeful moments like these were to be treasured.

“Good night – may you fall asleep in the arms of a dream, so beautiful, you’ll cry when you awake.” ― Michael Faudet

 

 

“We live in a world that is beyond our control, and life is in a constant flux of change. So we have a decision to make: keep trying to control a storm that is not going to go away or start learning how to live within the rain.” ― Glenn Pemberton

It appears that I’ve moved from flood and hurricane territory up to the hail and tornado highway. It’s fascinating to watch the meteorologists on the TV screen using the latest technology to track approaching storms. All the colors and grids and radar projections keeping us on the edge of our seats. Cell phone technology allows instant communication with storm chasers racing down the highway, while all the traffic is heading in the opposite direction. So much drama. The arrival of the approaching tornadoes and hail are plotted minute by minute. I squeezed my vehicle into the garage after hearing of baseball size hail heading this way. Evening classes and hockey were cancelled.

I didn’t get a drop of rain.

Like Charleton Heston parting the Red Sea, the ominous front went right and left. A very anticlimactic evening. A reminder that some things, like the weather, are out of our control. All we can do is batten down the hatches ride it out. Or turn on the sprinkler and pray for some rain.

“It is our attitude toward events, not events themselves, which we can control. Nothing is by its own nature calamitous — even death is terrible only if we fear it.” ― Epictetus

There was an endocrinologist (what’s that?) on the news this week.  Florence Comite has just written a book with advice about helping people to take control of their health and live longer. Most of our medical care is reactive – helping us to solve problems that have developed due to disease, sickness, poor lifestyles and aging. She advocates a proactive approach. Her brief interview made a lot of sense.

It seems there’s much more we can control about our health if we will become aware and make some early adjustments. Getting the right data from health professionals is important. She believes we aren’t trapped by our genes but can solve health problems before they occur. Get better sleep and eat protein. That’s what I just talked with my doctor about. Unfortunately, he’s mostly trying to help me fix all that I’ve messed up in the past fifty years. I was reassured when he told me that taking more drugs was not the direction he likes to go. Maybe soon I’ll stop rattling when I walk??

Modern medical care is almost miraculous. It’s also become out of reach because of cost. Only half of our adult population report that they can afford it these days. Over one-third of the population don’t seek medical care because of cost (lack of insurance).  When it comes to health in our country, there are two America’s. One has easy access and the other is struggling to just to pay for necessary medications.

I keep telling my friends and family to think about the blessing of the wonderful medical care we have. Especially when there’s a terrible diagnosis and long-term treatment planned. Medical science and research has provided so many breakthroughs – it is a miracle. If you have the right insurance plan. 

“Be not angry that you cannot make others as you wish them to be, since you cannot make yourself as you wish to be.” ― Thomas à Kempis

Has anyone ever misplaced their children in the store? There’s that moment of panic in the pit of your stomach. The feeling seems to last for two days. Then you hear the familiar voice and turn the corner. Right where you left him or just a few meandering steps away.

Last week my grandkids were eating their ice cream outside and staying within sight, or so I thought as I had instructed. And just like that, they connected with a couple of new acquaintances and crawled through the iron fence to frolic with unabashed joy on the next-door golf course. It was late evening, the sun had not set yet as they tore along the empty fairways. At least that’s what it sounded like to me. All I could do was hear the loud joyous voices. The trees blocked my view. I got a glimpse here and there. The laughter and shouting were nonstop. Their escape occurred before I knew what was happening. That familiar panic set in. How was I to get them back? They were trespassing. What if someone got hurt? How could I help?

After almost an hour, I caught sight of mine as they drew near the fence. They were close enough to hear me call out. I got them back on the right side quickly. The rest of the story was not much fun for anyone. But I was back in control.

Spending time during my weeks with a seven and four-year-old, crawling out from under tables at the fast-food joint (those extra clean floors), senior citizens driving with glaucoma while we dance across the church parking lot, little Miss Independent getting trapped in the restroom at the ice rink, taking an evening walk together hoping for some magic time but ending up getting chased by a gaggle of geese someone thought would be fun to tease… I’m the senior adult who believed he was in control. 

We are living in an age of deluded belief that we control so much of our lives. When was the last time a band of raiding Vikings disrupted your vacation plans? But all it takes is a lost phone, a virus, perpetual highway construction, AI, a blockade of the Strait of Hormuz, or an out of the blue diagnosis – and life can go completely off the rails in small or very big ways.

Maybe instead of breaking your neck trying to stay in control of the world around you, the better daily goal is to manage your own peace and relation to others? All any of us can hope to accomplish today is make an effort to wrestle with our own self, to demonstrate love and be the person others need right now.

“All you need in this life is ignorance and confidence; then success is sure. ” ― Mark Twain

I once heard a communication study presentation that explained the subconscious effects of the instructor’s dress on learning. When the teacher dresses casual, maybe even leaning toward the slouchy, students tended to not take the lesson very seriously. The inverse was also true. A more formally dressed instructor helped students, without realizing it, internalize their learning with more gravity, and hopefully understand and remember at a little deeper level. We are all living in a more casual culture. You wouldn’t believe the dress code of many faculty these days. Some look as if they’re living in their cars. We really do need to address salaries!

The other day I was standing in my closet looking up at the hats on the top shelf. In my latter days I used to have a whole professor costume I wore. I thought, if these kids are paying to attend a private school, they ought to get something extra for their money. Students, no matter where they go to college, don’t usually remember the course content very well. But they do remember their instructors.

There’s also a drawer filled with bowties – not pasta – in my room. I used to wear them to church. I couldn’t reason to dress less for God each week than I did for work. Now, I’m attending a casual Christianity church. Who isn’t? When will I ever wear these ties again?  At the top of my closet there’s an old brown suitcase that’s been with me for decades. My grandson took one look at its contents a few weeks ago. It’s full of all my long ties. I had saved these for him before he was even born. He excitedly exclaimed, “Can I wear one to church today?”

Dressing up for church spread to the larger populations with the growth of the middle class who had more money and the birth of the textile industry with extra clothes that needed a place to wear.

Casual Christianity wasn’t invented by the local church to attract new customers. It’s been creeping into our culture for a long time now. Do you remember Casual Fridays? Supposedly invented back in the ’60’s by someone promoting Hawaiian shirts. The future doesn’t look good for ties. Down in Houston, where I lived for thirty years, all the teen boys wore shorts to church all year long – even through the cold winter weeks. Probably will be wearing them to work when they reach midlife.

I almost wore one of my infamous bowties to church this morning. Deciding it was too much costume, those sitting around me would think the circus was in town or something. We’re very casual Christians at my new church. I don’t need my costume anymore. In this next chapter of life, I’m no longer a teacher. I did just get a watch with a big face so that my grandson could start learning to tell time. While walking down the large central hall this morning, on the way to the children’s area at church, God said to all of my questions, “It’s not time yet.” Right now, I’m a spare.

“You meet Noah after the flood, you think, That brave, faith-filled, visionary man. You meet him before and you’re like, What a nut job. Perspective and timing matter. Sometimes you have to accept that you might not be able to see the truth from here.” ― Courtney C. Stevens

Do you remember recently our Secretary of Transportation urging passengers to stop flying in their pajamas? The COVID lock-in didn’t help. Doing business from a computer screen, who needs to even wear pants? Does anyone know how to iron a shirt anymore? Just think about what your retirement account would like today if you had invested in a hoody manufacturing plant or the place that makes those skin-tights woman are now wearing as pants? Isn’t there a U.S. Senator that wears a hoody to work? Wonder where they will hang his official portrait? Next to Millard Fillmore?

“I wear my hat as I please, indoors or out.”  ― Walt Whitman

I was about to attend our modern worship service recently but just couldn’t stay when I observed the very young music leader wearing a cowboy hat. What’s next? It is now typical for band members at church to wear ball caps. Hats are now fashion statements and no longer used to keep hair and sweat out of your eyes. I went back over to the senior citizen service and wouldn’t you know it, some old rancher right out of Lonesome Dove central casting marched down the aisle wearing his straw Stetson. Welcome to the New World, Christopher.

We probably no longer have an agreed upon dress code for adults today. Just when I got to feeling put out by the whippersnappers, I turned around during the church meet and greet on Easter and there was an old guy (my age?) wearing an even older ball cap sitting right behind me. It’s not just a young people phenomenon. Years ago I was officiating a wedding and when I instructed all to take their seats once the bride had made her way to the front, I looked across at the young man wearing his ten-gallon cowboy pride and joy on the front row, I invited all to take their seats and added, and please remove your hats. He and all his older relatives seemed oblivious??

The Japanese Yakuza organized crime members wear their tattoos under suits out of sight and have for hundreds of years. Hidden as a sign of modesty and respect. It’s doubtful their syndicate membership is a secret from anyone. Today, our tattoos are everywhere. A new status symbol or something for another generation. Even on the face. They can communicate mixed messages to a society with different histories. I’m only sorry I won’t be alive to see these people in their 70’s holding their grandbabies for family photos. Instead of Popeye the Sailor bearing an anchor symbol on his shoulder, it’s young women today with emblems proudly emblazoned on their bare biceps.

Several years ago I started casually surveying students who had giant tattoos up their legs or arms. I wanted to know how much these had cost. Amazing! They are not an economical, quick decision. In a casual culture, where people also proudly show off their skin, tattoos can make very loud statements. For the rest of one’s life. The now famous entertainer we know as Jelly Roll revealed in an interview that his tattoos no longer represent the man he has now become. Many he got while in prison. Unfortunately, so many are on his face.

“They say that a tattoo should signify an important event in your life. How many, do you think, signify what somebody is trying to hide?” ― G.C. McKay

Not everyone dresses for success these days. Casual and comfortable now rule society. It’s a relief to know you can still practice conspicuous consumption in casual ways. I did find some sweatpants selling for $3000 (must be handwashed using baby shampoo). What a world we’ve made to sit back and relax in.

 

Do you remember how old you were when you crossed over from thinking about the presents you were going to receive and instead thought more about those that you were going to give? As we mature, the happiness of someone else becomes the more important reward.

“If you haven’t done much giving in your life-try it and see how you feel afterwards.” ― Michelle Moore

So many of my friends have made changes in their latter day lives. Where they live, what they do all day, what’s now at the top of their to-do list. Those who seem the most content are spending their time and energies giving.

Now older and better able to give…

Their parents are aging, adult children are in transition, grandchildren need some extra love, public service is calling, time now available to devote to ministries at church. Friends and family have health issues. Travel is now possible to invest meaningful time with others. As exhausting as some of these schedules sound, there is great joy and fulfillment spilling out of their stories.

“You can give without loving, but you cannot love without giving.” ― Amy Carmichael

These are a stark contrast with people we all know (sometimes even ourselves) who have spent too much time focusing on what they aren’t getting out of life. Giving is always the magic secret to being happy and content. Doesn’t make sense. The more you give, the more you end up receiving.

But there are some rules to follow (I think):

• When possible, try to give anonymously
• Don’t give what you want, give what someone else truly needs
• Time is often the most generous gift
• Don’t wait for or expect a thank you – that’s not the point
• Always double check your motivations for giving
• Don’t overthink it – follow the inspiration
• Encouragement is also a gift, often at just the right time
• The best gifts are often a sacrifice to the giver
• When someone says no, please don’t ever take it personally

“The most truly generous persons are those who give silently without hope of praise or reward.” ― Carol Ryrie Brink

Someone needs your gifts

Surveys today tell us that the world has changed in many ways that are making society unhealthy. Remember that line – no man is an island – a rising tide floats all boats.

• More people are having less daily human contact
• Social media is degenerating our health at almost all levels
• Political polarization increases isolation and deteriorates our quality of life
• Declining religious participation correlates with family fragmentation, weak safety nets and declining health

Someone needs you to give of yourself, your resources, your time and love right now. There are even people who don’t realize what they need most. The wealth of your experience and generosity can make the future – even tomorrow – more possible. Just a load of laundry, a visit to the hospital or time volunteering for your family or strangers. There are a hundred reasons why you can’t. Just think about today and do or give something that might matter for one person.

When you take time to pray for someone else, that’s a gift as well.

“Do all the good you can,
by all the means you can,
in all the ways you can,
in all the places you can,
at all the times you can,
to all the people you can,
as long as ever you can”

Charles Wesley (1707-1788)

“If you want to be enthusiastic, act enthusiastic.” ― Dale Carnegie

When did you last attend a kid’s sporting event?

The small grandstands were full. I was wearing my safety helmet in case of a tumble down the concrete steps.  Vigorous voices from moms around me were hollering at a fever pitch. There was a man sitting behind and on separate occasions he was providing very specific and detailed instructions aloud to members of the team down on the ice. I was again wearing my heavy winter coat. It was an ice hockey game and inside near the rink I could never feel my hands in the arctic climate. My four-year-old granddaughter skipped and danced up and down the rows, pulling off her sweatshirt, looking for another snack in the goodie bag I always had for her.

Our little family was gathered for the entire weekend of the tournament. Teams from the Dallas area were joined by others from Austin, Houston, Oklahoma and Louisiana. To sit and listen to the fans, one would think each game was a do or die contest. The rink was a mad house filled with three- to four-foot-tall hockey players. It still amazes me that these kids are all able to zoom around on their skates. Some are incredibly fast. They get knocked on their blocks and haul themselves back up just like that. I’m certain lessons are being learned. When members of the team are off the ice and on the bench I can see one of the coaches giving advice and instruction. I love seeing that. It’s one big learning experience.  At the end of each game, the players are rewarded with a game puck for a great play. My grandson has each of his proudly displayed above his bed.

I don’t think you can praise children enough

These are teams of seven- and eight-year-olds. Almost all boys. There are a few girls on some teams. There was even one team of all girls at the tournament. I couldn’t figure out where they were from. Don’t tell anyone, but I think they played better than any of the boy teams. Did you see the USA Women’s Ice Hockey just won the gold!

The moms were definitely screaming the loudest during each game. Hockey teams have up to eleven players and rotate four on the ice (goalie stays) every few minutes. Our cheering section knows every child’s first name and chances are you are sitting next to his mom or dad. Sometimes, during a pause, a player would hear his name and thumbs up to his parents and the crowd. Those boys may never have a more enthusiastic cheering section for the rest of their lives. Today, 11-15 year-olds’ feelings of support from home has been on the decline. 

“There is one person who utters more earnest, hopeful, pleading prayers for you than anyone else in the world—your mother.” ― Richelle E. Goodrich

I kept wondering about the lower intensity cheers when the players missed the score or didn’t hit the puck. With these close quarters it’s not like the anonymity of sitting in a stadium. Everyone knows everyone. No wise cracks allowed.  Why do I think about those kinds of things? But mostly, I was making rude remarks to those around me about the hefty goalie the Louisiana team put on the ice. Must have been a really big brother in an extra-large uniform. Couldn’t get a single puck into that net.

There were four games in one weekend. The expectation was that players would be taken out of school on Friday to participate. I guess it happens all the time for school sports. Our team had one at 7am on Saturday! My granddaughter was a great sport up. The last game was on a Sunday evening. She and I stayed home, had our own adventures, kept school night bedtime while reading a great story or two.

More children living in single-parent homes here than anywhere in the world

Interesting to me was how involved in the details the parents were – and needed to be to keep up with the scheduling and managing their other children. The boys on the team were typical first and second graders. My grandson couldn’t even remember one game from the other. One big play he had from another. He had a great time, but it was all in the moment. He and the other guys must have seven- and eight-year-old brains. Just the size they need right now.

Our team won and lost. A weekend filled up with rowdy action on the ice and building memories with their team. It was a shared experience for families – something becoming too rare these days. Snack bags, sweatshirts and away games all planned out by these ferocious moms. Moms that keep the world running. Moms that are forever in your corner, cheering you on – whether you make the goal or not.

“Nothing is as good as it used to be, and it never was. The “golden age of sports,” the golden age of anything, is the age of everyone’s childhood.” ― Ken Dryden, Canadian hockey player (1970-79), won six Stanley Cups.

“Whoever you are—I have always depended on the kindness of strangers.”  – Blanche DuBois (Tennessee Williams, A Streetcar Named Desire)

When does it become okay to start talking to strangers? When did you pass that marker in your life?

Humans need other humans to survive AND to learn how to survive. I used to remind my college classes, you can’t put a baby into a box and leave in the woods and hope all will be well. And, there are laws against that kind of behavior!

We are social creatures. Yet the most recent numbers don’t provide a very encouraging picture of our social health.

• Americans’ trust in others has been on a steady decline for decades. Wonder why? Do you think there’s too much media and information flooding into our lives?
• Our social networks have grown smaller and smaller. This is a critical part of our social capital that enables us and our families to thrive. There are fewer connections in our lives and those we do have are weaker than they’ve ever been.
• The levels of participation in the social world around us has also declined each time measurements are taken. Think little league games, community volunteering, church attendance, clubs/organizations and bowling leagues.
• People report that the number of people they consider close friends is getting smaller and smaller. We have friends, but those we consider close, who we really feel we can depend upon, are fewer and fewer.
• The time we spend with others who live with us in the same household is also on the decline. The time we spend at work has not increased. Perhaps we are bringing more work home now that 9-5 has become blurred by technology. Social media has also contributed to increased isolation. Even when sitting in the same room with our family, we’re often not “together.”
• Young adults, especially males, report feeling isolated from others – this number is higher than ever before, at 31%. This is probably related to fewer close friends, shrinking social networks, working at home and being addicted to our phones.
• There is a reverse correlation between income and feelings of isolation. The lower your income, the higher levels of this feeling. Where we live, how we work and the conditions of our family can all contribute to our feeling of isolation.

“It is an absolute human certainty that no one can know his own beauty or perceive a sense of his own worth until it has been reflected back to him in the mirror of another loving, caring human being.”

― John Joseph Powell

 

I recommend we all start talking more to strangers. Most of the strangers we meet in our daily lives are involved in the service sector. People who check us out at the store, bring us our meals, answer questions over the phone, and help us find our way to the right purchase are all strangers we interact with each week.

As our economy incorporated more and more, we interact less and less with moms and pops and mostly with younger people who are trained to follow scripts. Even the friendly greetings and online banter are part of a programmed speech.

“Americans no longer talk to each other, they entertain each other. They do not exchange ideas, they exchange images. They do not argue with propositions; they argue with good looks, celebrities and commercials.” ― Neil Postman

Instead of behaving as an actor in the play, why not go off script and talk to others as if they are real people? Don’t cause problems by taking up too much time. Don’t break norms with awkward questions or topics. But instead, be human. Provide a compliment. Ask a question that allows people to shine.

When I get to the checkout at the grocery story, I tell the staffer that I just rushed over from the pickle aisle where I was told checkout number ____ was the fastest today. Here I am. Trying to compliment the speed of the checkers at the grocery store, I’ll ask if once they check out 500 customers, do they get to go home? The bagger usually rolls his/her eyes. Going to HEB is one of my few hobbies in life.

So, keep your eyes open and look for a couple strangers this week to speak a passing word or two with. It’s a great habit that makes the world a better place for all of us.

“Let us make a special effort to stop communicating with each other, so we can have some conversation.” ― Mark Twain

The great winter storm of 2026 has now hit. Instead of preparing for hurricanes, I’m now all iced up. It’s snowing right now and the neighborhood birds are all huddled up on my porch. Why didn’t they fly south?

“What are we, if not an accumulation of our memories?” ― S.J. Watson

I can’t seem to remember to close the garage door less than a minute after coming in from my vehicle. There’s now a Post-it note on the mirror in the bathroom. Do you ever find yourself standing in the kitchen trying to figure out how you got there and what you’re looking for? There’s nothing more frustrating than being in the middle of a conversation and you go blank, unable to come up with the name, song title or famous battle from the Peloponnesian War.

A Quilt Filled with Memory

When the cold weather arrived here in north Texas, I looked down and there was the patchwork quilt my grandmother had made for me over fifty years ago. When helping unpack from the move, my daughter was putting it away and remarked that it was the comfort she associated with when she was under the weather and cuddled up on the couch.

My grandparents were both creative personalities. Sewing was one of my grandmother’s constant activities. Probably started out of necessity. She made outfits for my mother, sister and of course herself. Looking down at the quilt over the decades, I see the squares of fabric that remind me of what my family were wearing. Even a bathrobe she made for me. It’s not just a quilt, its memories all sewn together.

My wife’s cousin recently created quilts for all the cousins in the family. I was blessed to get one. It’s put together with material with a Baylor theme. A perfect memory of a time that changed our lives. Something to pass down with stories from all of us who spent years in that special place.

Before the internet was invented and screens were mass produced, turning even small children into stark raving consumers, philosophers invented the term “hyperreality.”  Describing our increasing exposure to symbols of reality instead of the real thing. Have you listened to a young person speak and they keep using the word “like” over and over again? It’s now reported that teens spend half of their awake hours on a screen. What they are viewing isn’t real, it’s hyperreal. The amount of time children spend outside has been on the decline for decades. It’s now on average, 4 hours a day (they spend twice as much time on a screen).

Hanging on to that quilt is something real that connects me to real people and a real past.

“Everybody needs his memories. They keep the wolf of insignificance from the door.” ― Saul Bellow

Each Ornament is Precious

My grandchildren and I were taking down Christmas the other day. This year I needed to remove all the ornaments from my big and little tree. This was the last Christmas for those trees. Both are white and for some reason each got a brown film after the move. I can’t figure it out?? My normal routine is to disassemble the big tree and pack away each section in its own plastic tote while leaving the ornaments on it. It has worked great and makes decorating a very short chore. The smaller tree gets lowered into its own tote. Each year, voila, Christmas is lifted out and put up in minutes.

As we removed each ornament, I was able to share a story or memory with the kids. We had an ongoing conversation about Christmas, what it means and our own family holiday history. Growing up my grandmother had ornament craft sessions and each year when we put those on the tree we remembered that time together. One year we made Christmas cookie ornaments. They were baked in the oven but couldn’t be eaten. Where did those end up? That cold evening we had an unexpected blessing shared together with popcorn from Waco, and homemade pizza hot from the oven. We will have to plan for next year decorating the new trees. A lot of bird ornaments to find places for.

That evening, making pizzas, carefully packing away each ornament was a real shared experience that we three used to build new significant stories in our lives.

Nothing Can Beat the Real Thing

My second-grade grandson is playing ice hockey. I’m amazed at his skills staying up on the ice and hitting that puck. I can barely get up and down the stairs in the bleachers watching him at practices and games. I just know that tumbling down those concrete steps is in my future. I’m shopping for a spectator helmet to wear. 

His parents have taken him to Dallas Stars open practices, and he has been able to see some of his new heroes up close in person. He didn’t take his eyes off all the action the entire evening.  The real thing always beats a TV screen. It can be a lot of trouble and expense, but attending your favorite sporting event is always worth it. Especially with children who are old enough. If they aren’t, there’s always a small fortune in concessions you can fill them up with. I’ve had much practice missing the game while standing in the line for popcorn. But the photos over the years prove we did have a great time.

Watching the kids at gymnastics, hockey and every fall at the football games always beats watching it on TV. Nothing can beat that memory we are building. The sights, smells, sounds and (for me) dangers will bind us together forever.

It always amazes me that spectators want to coach, coaches want to officiate, and officials just want to watch the game. – Lou Holtz

The real world is filled with real memories that will be carried into the future:

• Go to the sporting event, regardless of how much trouble. NFL owners are starting to complain about the high cost of attending games. Let’s see if anything happens.
• Get up and take a walk with friends and family. Park further away so you can see and talk about where you are.
• How long can you go without checking your phone? I used to have college students voluntarily drop theirs off in a basket when they came into class. I also had to work hard not to bore them to tears (an homage to my wife).

I’ve stashed away a lot of little things in my new smaller space. Problem is, I can’t find the great spots where I put each item (stapler, stamps, that letter, bug spray). I need a big map. Where did that memory go?

“Some memories are realities and are better than anything that can ever happen to one again.” ― Willa Cather

Isn’t A Good Story Worth Another Read?

“If one cannot enjoy reading a book over and over again, there is no use in reading it at all.” ― Oscar Wilde

When circumstances forced me to downsize this past year, one of the hardest partings was the one I had with my library. I had accumulated several thousand books shelved in my office and in every room of the house. Almost all had to go. I put aside a stash that still needed to be read and others that should be saved. I’m working on one of those right now and keep getting the feeling of familiarity. It’s possible I’ve read this book decades ago. The last book I pulled off the shelf here gave me the same feeling – a vague familiarity. I couldn’t guess how these books were going to turn out, but the stories, twists and turns gave me deja-vu.

“Not the power to remember, but its very opposite, the power to forget, is a necessary condition for our existence.” ― Sholem Asch

What Memories Are Hidden Underneath Your Tree?

Christmas season brings back to mind so many memories for all of us in this age category I’ve now reached. It was difficult for the children around the table to come up with their favorite Christmas memory – I’m convinced, at that age, it just hasn’t gelled yet. We were at the preschool Christmas musical and while watching the comic drama transpiring all around that night I also couldn’t help but think about some memories of Christmases past.

“Reflect upon your present blessings — of which every man has many — not on your past misfortunes, of which all men have some.”  (Charles Dickens)

One of my new favorite holiday films is The Man Who invented Christmas. All about how Charles Dickens wrote A Christmas Carol in just a few weeks before Christmas. My own ghost of the past seemed to be sitting there with me that night as all the children and gawping families (with phones held high like pagan amulets) sang away with expressions of either joy or terror.

We attended musicals at church and at the preschool this year. A first for our family. I wanted to be sure that the children saw and understood the nativity scene, it would play the central part in the church musical. Not within a thousand miles of the preschool edition, of course. On our way into the church building we visited the life size nativity scene out front. We took photos, as required. But the children were horrified that the plastic baby Jesus was missing. Someone had kidnapped him from the church display! Is nothing sacred?

This was really scotch taped into the kids minds after witnessing the Lion King moment during the church pageant. The live baby who was playing Jesus in the nativity on stage was held up into the air during the culminating musical crescendo. In the coming week, as we toured Christmas lights in the neighborhood, the children were on a crusade to be sure that every manager had its baby. A new memory.

While growing up, I had an aunt with a very elaborate manger displayed on her mantle. I couldn’t resist one year. I inserted a greenish Star Wars Yoda figurine into the display. As far as I know she never noticed. It was essential that I removed it (or had someone else do the deed) before she packed it all away at the end of the season. We tried to sneak it back in every year after. It was our humorous family memory among our younger generation.

Seen Through A Child’s Eyes

Our evening at my granddaughter’s preschool Christmas program was wonderful. How could it not be? Her class sang The Hokey Pokey?? She’s four and has now confirmed that she knows her right and left! The rest of the show I sat with furrowed brow wrestling hard to figure out any sort of connection between this British dance hall number from the 1800’s and Christmas.  Oh well, merry black Friday.

The school cafeteria was packed with parents and family who had rushed from work to get a good seat. These were the tiniest performers starting their long careers on the school stage. Most people left after their own child’s class had performed. Hope there’s still a naughty list circulating. My grandson took himself up to the front row and sat on the floor. He wanted a good seat. He is sister’s biggest fan.

Each class of 3–4-year-olds marched onto the stage and sang their songs with costumes and dance moves. Some of the children were ready for Broadway, most were still at the deer in the headlights phase. It didn’t seem to matter to anyone in the audience – every child was a star. I’m not sure any of us adults in the audience could have done a better job.

My own Christmases from long ago drifted past my memory. We tore through our presents like wild animals. It took a lot of getting used to as a young adult in a new family having to wait for each person to take their turn. There were different customs in this new land. Some years we didn’t get all the presents opened until Valentine’s Day! It all changes when you become an adult and have children in your family. A completely different ballgame. Getting to explain each year what it’s really all about is a sacred privilege.

For me, Christmas is still tamales and queso. My San Antonio roots.  After marriage we had feasts around the table each year with our larger family. The room and table got smaller as the family grew in numbers. These were the only gifts that mattered for our grandparents. Christmas ought to be like that book you read again and again. If only in the mad rush you will take the time to sit and let the deja-vu sail past.

“You will finally come to understand the gift of Christmas once you realize that you are in desperate need of that gift and that you have no means whatsoever to give it to yourself.” ― Craig D. Lounsbrough

The holiday doesn’t have to be over with this week of New Year. When you take that book down next year, what about Christmas will you share with your family, your growing up children, the close friends that need some inspiration? Christmas is mostly a joyous memory. It can be a lot of trouble. It always goes by fast. What are you going to start filing away that means the most and should be memorialized? Don’t wait for someone to be gone. Don’t get too wrapped up in what never matters.

This year there were some memorable children’s moments on the stage that should be added to the hall of fame. Everything is now on film. What a world we’ve created:

 

The now famous “Bethlehem Brawl” between the cow and pig at nativity play

 

A fight over baby Jesus breaks out at church Christmas musical:

 

Not a very Silent Night

 

Over the top performance from shy 8-year-old