If you are lucky, you will come across one of those spectacular people in your life. A real unforgetable, original character. Hector Delaunay was one of those people. "Grandpa Hector", as most of us called him, was my sister-in-law's father. My greatest memories of him are from when I was little, before my neices and nephews were born. When my brother and sister-in-law would visit they would take me over to his house. His backyard was a well-curated jungle. He had all kinds of plants and fruit trees. I remember once he took me for a walk out in the "jungle". He pointed out and named different plants and trees and told stories. I remember feeling a bit scared because it really did seem like a jungle to me with the sun peeking through the canopy of trees. He often wore his cut-off jean shorts, light denim long sleeve shirt, and his white cowboy hat. He always had a big smile, loud voice, and was a expert conversationalist. He always had stories about his friends, family, or news from around town. This is what I will always remember about him.
I saw him just a few months ago. Old age caught with him, as it always does with most anyone. His shoulders weren't as strong and his wardrobe was a bit more warm and comfortable. However, his smile and love of conversation remained.
Thank you, "Grandpa" Hector for the tours, the smiles, the stories, but mostly the reminders to live life big and fully.
I must be getting older because the stars are fading. Prince, THE musical icon, suddenly passed away yesterday. I could probably sit here and type til' my fingers bled and still come up short.
Once in a lifetime, once in a century, once for all time.
Anybody can write a song. Many can write a good song. Very few can write something completely new. Prince could tell a story lyrically and musically in a song that only last a few minutes but can stand the test of time over and over. "Raspberry Beret" is one of my favorite songs of his lyrically. Read how he set up the characters in this story:
The male lead (Prince):
He told me several times that he didn't like my kind 'Cause I was a bit too leisurely Seems that I was busy doing something close to nothing But different than the day before
I mean, you KNOW this guy. Probably young, hates his job, sitting around waiting for something better to happen. Then she walks in and rocks his world.
The female lead (wearing that iconic beret):
That's when I saw her, ooh, I saw her She walked in through the out door, out door
With this one line you know what this girl is all about. She doesn't follow the rules. She does what she wants. She just walked IN through the OUT door. You go, girl!
Then there is his most iconic song. The title track to his movie Purple Rain. If you really listen to that song it is a song about love, but also friendship lost. It is a rock/pop song, but seriously plays out like a church song. It stirs up pain and longing. That chorus feels like you could raise your hands up. Preach!
Lastly, I'll leave you with a quote from the man himself.
"I don't really care so much what people say about me because it is usually a reflection of who they are."
Two days ago my child came home and told us that while she was waiting in the car rider line to be picked up at school, a first grade girl came up to her and told her, "I don't like you, because you're Mexican" and walked away. It totally blindsided her. No explanation or prompt. She still doesn't know the child's name or who's class she is in. That child just felt the need to let her know that "Mexicans" were not liked by her. I was thrown back for a few seconds when she told me. I asked her what she said back to the child. She said, "Nothing. I just said under my breath that it was rude." Her friend who she was sitting with said,"Why did she say that?!" Then my daughter said, "Maybe it's because of my skin. It's dark." I felt like someone had punched me in the stomach. I quickly turned to her and softly but surely said,"Don't ever let anyone tell you ANYTHING about your skin. It's beautiful. People pay lots of money to sit in tanning beds to just try to have a little bit of what your skin looks like. You are so lucky." Her siblings quickly chimed in and raved about how lucky she is that she tans even more at the beach and that her skin was so pretty. She smiled and I hoped that we had built up what someone had tried to tear down.
I agree with her friend. Why? I have thought about it and thought about it over and over. Why? We live in a pretty diverse area of the country. In a suburb of Houston, Texas, one of the nation's largest cities. We have people in our community from every part of the world. Different religions, colors, creeds. So why? I mean it's 2016. Why would a first grader already harbor such feelings about someone she knows nothing about just based on my child's skin? I have gone through every emotion. Anger, sadness, pity for the child and her family, and pride of our heritage.
Racism is ugly, but mostly a thief. People who have these feelings about someone who looks different than themselves are being robbed everyday. Being robbed on meeting someone who could be their best friend. Someone who could help them in times of need. That person could be a shoulder to cry on. They could be someone who would share a snack with them if they were hungry. Help them when they fell. Wiped their tears when they were hurt. Help them learn to sound out a hard word in their book at school. Run with them in gym. Sit next to them at story time. Laugh at jokes together. Make silly faces together. My daughter or most kids would love to do that. They would love to have more friends. However, that little first grade girl is being robbed of that by hatred. She doesn't know what she is missing.
Have you ever been to a wedding or other large celebratory event where they will make a large pyramid or tower of champagne glasses? Someone will pour champagne into that top glass and soon enough it is full and starts to overflow, but they keep pouring. The champagne then begins to flow down into the glasses beneath it, but they keep pouring into that top glass. Soon those glasses are full and overflow into the ones below them. The champagne keeps getting poured and before you know it all of the glasses are full with champagne just by filling the top glass. Waco is that champagne tower and the Gaines' are that top glass.
Last month after a camping trip with our family we decided to take a two-hour detour to Magnolia Market in Waco, Texas. I recently only became a fan of the show Fixer Upper and was excited to check out Chip and Joanna Gaines' newest business. They recently bought and renovated an old grain processing/storage facility. There are storage silos and older brick buildings that you can tell were once used in the processing. Just as they do in their show, they repurposed the whole block and made it into the Magnolia Market offering items you see on their show and other items picked out by Joanna and Chip themselves. In addition to the store they also have a huge lawn with lawn games for families, a garden, and several food trucks. It is more than just a store, it is an experience.
When we drove up to the area of The Silos, we were immediately a bit overwhelmed. It was Spring Break and there were TONS of people trying to get into the Magnolia/Silos area. We had to park a few blocks away. Once we entered the area we saw the line to get in was a bit long and zig-zagged it's way up to the front. Of course, as soon as we got in line two of my four little ones needed to go to the bathroom. Luckily, my brother and my sister-in-law, whose family also came along, were already in line for the bathroom. They went along with them as we waited. Much to our surprise and pleasure, the line moved very, very quickly. After the kids were out of the restroom they had a chance to try the yard games as we waited. Once we got inside, it was very crowded, but we figured as much. I will say this, never once did we see an employee flustered or angry. They were all so cheery and helpful despite the huge crowds.
We walked around and oohed and ahhed at the items in the store. My husband and I were deciding on which Jimmy Don metal sign to pick (which were on sale!), when a toddler boy fell back and hit his head on a shelf. His mom, who also had an infant in her arms, swiftly grabbed him and noticed his head was bleeding. I quickly grabbed some tissues from my purse and gave them to her to help stop the blood. No sooner had I done that, had at least four of the Magnolia employees swooped in. They offered the mom help right away. The mom apologized profusely for the broken small vase that had fallen off the shelf. The employees assured her over and over that the main concern was her son. They took them to a back room to help them as other employees cleaned up the glass and a small spot of blood. The employees handled the situation quickly and smoothly, but with great care.
Shortly after that, we picked our sign and we got in line to pay for our items. That line also moved quickly and we also caught a glimpse of Joanna's mother working around the store. Each cashier had a person helping them wrap and bag each item so it moved faster. The young lady wrapping and bagging the items noticed that each one of my kids had picked items for their rooms and wrapped them carefully and gave them each of their items in their own small Magnolia bag. They loved that!
After paying we went back out to walk around the yard and check out the garden and food trucks. It wasn't until then that it really struck me. Every food truck there (even Common Grounds from the show) was a Waco business. A lot of the custom items in Magnolia like their flower pots, jewelry, and signs were also from a Waco business. Even though the Gaines' were nationally recognized TV personalities, they are taking Waco and their neighbors with them on this epic trip. That is when I realized that Chip and Joanna Gaines were like the top glass on a champagne tower. Blessings were being poured abundantly into their cup, but they were letting it overflow into other people's cups. It was awesome and inspiring. I hope to one day have a passion of mine bring blessings to others like that.
P.S. We saw the mom and little boy who hit his head as were leaving. He was sitting on the stage area happily eating a popsicle (from a local vendor by the lawn). His mom told us he was doing okay, especially after the sweet treat. Popsicles make everything better!
Someone dying is not a unique experience. Everyone on this earth will lose someone eventually. It is just a fact. A lot of people would rather not even think of that day. The day their love one will take their last breath. Why? Because even that thought can be so painful.
Humans are quite funny when you think about it. We "think" we have it all figured out. How things will work or how they should look. But life usually has other plans. Some people lose their parents, friends, close relatives, spouses, or even sadly their children. Suddenly, life isn't what we pictured. A color is missing from our lives. We stare at our canvas and try to figure out how we are going to go on. How can we make art on that canvas without red? Or blue? Yellow?
Seven years ago I experienced a February that I would have never pictured. My sister-in-law left this earth on February 7th and two weeks later on February 21st, my father joined her. Both died from cancer.
The night my father passed away is very precious to me. People often look at me strangely when I say it was one of the most beautiful moments in my life. Right up there with the birth of my children. It's true.
My father had been admitted into a hospice hospital in Houston after we received news that his cancer was just too far gone. My brothers had tried to take care of them in their home, but the need for help was large and the hospital was the best solution. He was never alone and someone always stayed with him. After my sister-in-law passed away, even my brother came to Houston and joined the rotation. I often think back about my brother on those days. Sitting there watching my father slip away just days after his wife. How numbing the pain must have felt at times. I can't even imagine.
My dad's condition worsened everyday and we knew the day was near. I lived in Fort Worth and had planned to spend the weekend in Houston. I was already packing the bags for my little family to leave the following morning when one of my brother's called and said that I should probably leave soon. Soon, as in now. Dad had stopped talking. He was breathing, but it didn't look good. Our neighbors helped watch our kids as we shifted into full throttle to get packed. We left quickly and I drove the whole way. I got one call from my nephew (who is just a year younger than I am) to hurry. I remember telling him, "I am, but I am not going to speed." Something in my mind kept telling me not to. My dad would be so mad if he knew I had broken the law to get there. The whole way I listened to Linda Ronstadt's album Canciones de Mi Padre (My Father's Songs). It is a mariachi album that Linda had recorded with various classic mariachi songs that her father loved. My father also loved those songs. In fact, the CD was his. I had borrowed it from him years ago and never gave it back. I sang softly, drove, and prayed I would get there in time.
When I got there my nieces and nephews swept in to help take care of my kids in the family room next door to my dad's room. I remember walking in terrified of what was going to happen, but still walking straight over to him. I knew he was tired. I knew his moments in this life were slipping. I remember placing my face by his ear. I remember feeling his soft grey curls under my hand. His breaths were labored and erratic. I remembered hearing soft stifled sobs in the room. I don't whose they were, but the room was full. My mom, all of my brothers, and their families were there. I whispered into his ear, "Dad, I am here." I told him that my husband and kids were too. I then said the hardest thing I could say, but knew I had to. "I know you are tired. You go now and rest." My family and I then joined hands in a circle in prayer around him. Not even 5 minutes later his chest stopped struggling to catch the next breath and he was gone.
I miss my father very much, but I am so thankful I had those last moments. I look at my children and wonder about how he would have loved to be here with them. He was such a playful grandfather and I know he would have let them get away with anything. I know some people will say, "He's always with you" or "He's watching you from above". I know and believe that we will see each other again one day, but he is just not here now. That thought is still very raw, even seven years later.
So, I paint on with a couple of colors less. Some other colors have been added and the picture is still beautiful, but I really miss the color he added to my canvas.
Today the world learned that Harper Lee, Pulitzer Prize winning author of To Kill A Mockingbird has passed away.
When I was in junior high and high school I HAD TO read her novel several times. I am pretty sure one of those times all I did was read the Cliff's Notes to jog my memory before a quiz. I knew the basic idea of the story and who the characters were and that is all I needed. I am sure I also passed any quizzes or tests relating to the book with a pretty good grade.
Last summer, after decades of not hearing about Scout Finch and Maycomb, Alabama, publishers announced that there was a sequel to her novel. I immediately wanted to read it (which I still haven't done), but decided that I would first need to read To Kill A Mockingbird for the first time in probably over 20 years.
I read through and became reacquainted with Scout, Jem, Dill, Boo, and Atticus. What I didn't expect was to be moved to tears as Tom Robinson's story and trial were retold to me once again. I was sad for his family and sad that his story still strikes a chord today. If you haven't read this classic, please do so soon or pick it up for the first time in a long time.
After reading Ms. Lee's obituary by CNN (linked above), I learned a little more about her. I had no idea Dill was modeled after Truman Capote and that she still lived in rural Alabama. What inspired me the most was a quote from a rare interview. I quickly wrote it down on my phone and I went ahead and added it above. I loved the quote and thought, "Why can't I just see things the way Harper Lee sees it."
I have been grappling with the idea of becoming a writer as of late. I know I want to write, but I have no idea of where to start or what to really write about. I am unsure of my skill level and if I really should be writing at all. I have a few failed blogs, but still remain optimistic that I have something to offer the world. This blog will be rough and it's subject matter will be determined not by a blog theme, but by my mood and inspiration at the moment.
All I want to be is the Harper Lee of Texas.
Goodbye, Harper Lee and thanks for the inspiration.
