Remembering other Augusts

I am remembering other Augusts in my life today. I have always hated August. Especially when we didn't have air-conditioning or even fans because we didn't have electricity. I remember days when I would look out on the heat shimmering on the sidewalks and streets – those days past - years ago, when I would look out and see the corn stalks and peanut bushes wilting and turning yellow in the heat – when the buzzards and chicken hawks would fly around searching for something dead that was in the fields wafting up their awful stench!

August, where are those night that were so hot I could not bear to move on the hot sticky sheets, and the sweat would run down my face and body, and then I would lie still hoping for a cool breeze to blow in through an open window or the screen door – finally drifting off to sleep, dreaming of cool days and thunderstorms?

Augusts, those years when with people getting air conditioners installed in windows, as a happy stay-at-home mother, I had the luxury of NOT going outside if I didn’t have to, or want to, and August became a month of isolation, when I hid from the sun and the steaming humid summers of San Antonio?

I remember the Augusts when the kids were small, back in the ‘50s and when I stayed inside with the blinds pulled relishing the cool air of the room air-conditioner which cooled about half the house...and it was like a dark cave, and I retreated with a pile of books stacked on the bedside table and read a book a day, wishing I could find a Book-of-the-Week Club instead of the Book-of-the-Month Club. In those years I also belonged to the Literary Book Club, The Reader’s Digest Book Club and the Doubleday Book Club and in August I ran out of books. Then I sat in front of the television set watching soap operas for hours, which numbed my mind. I kept my eyes glued to the set, letting myself drift into that world of love, infidelity, and families torn apart, and when I clicked off the set, looked around and was glad I was me, and not them, and I thought “No one lives like that! Thank Goodness!” Yes I was very naive back then!

August, when I stayed inside and my children would stay outdoors, chasing each other for hours in the sprinkler, or riding bicycles with training wheels and tricycles up and down the sidewalk and driveway, not minding the heat and the sun, running in and out of the house, voices calling, “Mommy, I’m hungry, Mommy, I’m thirsty! Can we have a Popsicle? Can we have a peanut butter and jelly sandwich? Can I go to Ryan’s house? Can we have a lemonade stand? Can I go over to Shelley’s? Can I have some Kool Aid?”

August, when I stayed inside and not hearing any sounds, I stepped out the door, with the heat blasting my face coming from the hot sidewalk, to make sure the kids were still around, and heard scuffling and whispering and giggling, so I knew they were beside the house where I couldn’t see them. I saw toys, and bicycles and tricycles and blocks and wagons and dolls and buggies, strewn all over the driveway, and I was too hot to tell them to pick things up., and I turned and went back in, knowing they were at least alive although into some kind of mischief. But it was too hot to yell at them.

August, when you heard kids outside fighting, yelling, screaming, laughing boisterously, and you retreated to the bedroom, closing the door, and hoping they could not find you for a while, and they at least would not kill each other! And prayed for school to start soon!

August, when I would lay on the bed and wonder what to fix for supper that would not heat up the house. I decided Eddie could cook hamburgers on the barbecue pit by the patio, where it was shady. I lay there thinking I needed to go make a big pitcher of iced tea to have ready for him when he got in.

August, the days when I wished September would come in a hurry, with it’s promise of cooler days and nights and maybe some rain, and wonderful school days. During the '30s and 40’s, I knew it meant going to school instead of working all day in the boiling hot sun in the fields. I was in school all day. As I remember, I can almost smell the aroma of chalk and Big Chief tablets. After we started going to Poth High School, what with the long bus ride into town and back home again late in the afternoon, what with pep squad and football practice, and on Friday nights, the football games, there was not much chance we had to work in the fields. Oh September, a month of new beginnings. I hated August. I loved September.

August in the city is a month of deserted streets, hot sidewalks, burning hot pavements, too hot for kids to be out, too hot to go walking, too hot to visit with the neighbors, and lonely days of being holed up in a house with the shades drawn, shutting out the heat. August hangs over the city like a boiling hot sauna. August is when I am the most grateful for air-conditioning above any other new invention. Will September never come? Oh dear, it is only August 1. Maybe this year August will turn out to be cool and rainy. I can dream can't I?

I Was Just Thinking

I Was Just Thinking

The Beginning of the 80's

He's been gone almost two years. It's strange that I am missing him more now now than before. Maybe that was because for more than 10 years he was slowly leaving me. Why do some things take so long?
Maybe that was God's way of preparing me for him leaving. I just can't ask,"Why God?", can I? I never did ask then, so I won't ask now. I just know that it is and has been. Don't ask questions. Just try to get on with your life. And cope the best that you can. I am never one to ask God, "Why me?"
Like with Julie. I never asked why God? I just did and took every day as it was, thankful for another day. I didn't plan for tomorrow. Or worry about tomorrow. I lived for that day. Took one day at a time. Hoping for a good tomorrow. And tomorrow always comes.
This week I was encouraging my friend Christa to write her memoirs soon. I think she is going to start doing it. She said something about some things are too painful to go back and write about. But it is time for her. Maybe it is time for me too. Some things are too painful to write about for me too. Like things that happened that day, and the weeks and months and years to come. Almost 30 years.
I always write about the first 30 years of my marriage because those were the happy years, the decade of the 1950's, my Golden Years, and the 1960's were the Turmoil of the 60's, with the assassination of a president and the Vietnam War protests and the Jesus Movement, but it really didn't affect me or my husband or children directly...well, maybe when I remember when Eddie and Trent used to argue about the Vietnam War. The 1970's were the years when my children began to leave the nest, go to college and marry. But those were such good years too. The weddings, the graduations, the family Christmases and Easters and reunions.

I had such high hopes for the 1980's. In January of 1982, Eddie and I were alone again. I was not one to have "empty nest syndrome". I was looking forward to my freedom. I had plans. Julie was pregnant and so happy to be having a baby after 7 years of marriage. Kristi and Bill were on their own in a little house in the country with their little baby Stephanie who had been born in November. They were 17 years old. Two pictures above are of a baby shower Kristi had for Julie in her house. And Miranda playing nearby.

Trent and Kathy were living in Arlington where he was a lab director in clinic, and Kathy was working for the telephone company, and they had Miranda who was 3 years old. Derek and Judy were married and living in an apartment nearby. Life was very good. This was going to be a very good year.


That summer we went to Colorado with Margaret and Johnny. We had such a good time. We got a cabin on Vallecito Lake. We rode the train in Durango through the mountains to Silverton and back. We had a snowball fight up on Wolf Creek Pass in June. We viewed the lovely landscape and planned on all retiring there some day, where Johnny and Eddie would have a little grocery store up in the mountains and Margaret and I would have a little studio room attached, where she would sell her Avon products, and I would have an art studio and give art lessons. We dreamed our dreams and hoped they came true. The picture above is me in Colorado near Vallecito Lake.

So, now as I look through the albums, I was just thinking about the last 30 years. So much has happened.

I am beginning to miss my husband. I think I have been in shock and numb for the last 30 years, and especially the last 10 years. It has been difficult for me to cry. I am alone, but not lonely, I miss him sometimes like when Julie burps and I say, "Get any on you?" and we laugh because her daddy used to say that to anyone who burped out loud and laugh his funny little laugh.

Or like when I see beautiful yellow cannas in someone's yard, and I remember Eddie.

One day, before I knew what happened, he had cut down and dug up my beautiful yellow cannas under the kitchen window, saying "Those things have taken over that flowerbed."

Then I get mad all over again like I did that day, and the days and weeks and months afterward, when I would go on the patio and see the bare flowerbed. And that was just the beginning of the things he cut down through the years, things I loved.

It makes me fell better now, because I don't miss him as much! ha.
I guess it is good to remember the good things, and not the bad, depressing things.
But I always tell people that the bad things are part of your history and make you what you are now. And I know God has been working on my testimony. Because "I overcome the devil by the Blood of the Lamb and the word of my testimony" (Rev. 12:11)
I know it is better to remember the joyful, fun, happy, times. So that is what I do. And that is what I have these days to keep me company. So I look at old picture albums and remember and smile as the good memories come back.

Old friends, new friends and having fun

Having fun in the kitchen and Pastors Herrera and Pastors Moore having fun

Sunday we went to our pastors' dedication for their new home. We had a really good time. I feel like the people in our church are like family, and I am the grandma! Everyone is younger than me. Sometimes I want to have a party here in our home for the friends in our church. Maybe when the weather gets cooler.

Tuesday I met a 95 year old woman, Ellene Johnson, in the waiting room at
the doctor's office. She was so cute, petite, her hair was neatly coiffed (I could tell she had a hairdresser do it) and her make up was perfect and she was dressed so nice! I started a conversation with her to find out about her.

I like people. I like meeting new people and always ask them questions about themselves. Like the woman I met in the waiting room of my eye doctor, that day.....when I started a conversation with her, she said to me, "Are you a reporter?".

I laughed and replied, "No, but I like people and like to write their stories, and may write your story in my column for the newspaper".

I didn't write it but I remember how interesting she was telling about how she was only one of two woman aircraft mechanics at the aircraft plant.

Getting back to Tuesday and Ellene Johnson, I also talked to the girl that brought her from the nursing home in Stockdale, Denee Bustos. Even though Ellene Johnson was 95, she was bright and sharp and so interesting. Denee was the activity director there. She said she takes Ellene shopping, etc. Denee told me how funny she was and particular. She has to have everything match in her room even to the Kleenex boxes, which has to match her bedspread. I plan to visit her next week and do a story on Ellene. I can't wait to hear her story. Denee said she has some really funny and interesting stories to tell about her life!

I have been walking everyday (just missed one morning) for two weeks. But I only walk 15 or 20 minutes, cause it is so boring!

Tonight we will go to Eric Travieso's service/bible study at the Convention Center. I like it because he is such a good preacher/teacher. And the service is so short. When he preaches or teaches you hang on to every word! It is just 5 minutes there, and 45 minutes of preaching and then 5 minutes back home. And he is so interesting and you get fed the Word of God and get filled up. It is like a refreshing drink of water in a dry land. I am so glad he is back in Floresville. He has a testimony that will blow you away. You know that God is real and does miracles when you hear it. And you will become a believer!

Tomorrow my sister Gerry from Round Rock, and my brother Sam and his wife Rose, and my sister Margaret are going to meet us at Jack's Cafe for lunch. I haven't seen Gerry for months and months. Gerry is the first one in my family that got the Holy Ghost back in 1982. She is responsible for leading Eddie and me back to church and to Jesus and the Holy Spirit in the winter of 1983 when Julie was still in the hospital. That is a testimony I will share with anyone. If you want to know ask me. Only God can do some things -

And Hallelujah! My granddaughter Miranda is coming to spend the weekend with us! Can't wait to hear what is happening in her life! She is about to become a missionary to the Dominican Republic in August. She is quitting a great job in Austin, and will be gone for two years, and trusting God for support. She is going to work in the library of a school there.

When she comes here we always talk and laugh and watch TV shows like Cash Cab, and HGTV (I like House Hunters, Int. and she does too), and the Cooking Channels, and old movies on Turner Classic Movies, and she will cook for us (she is a great chef), and then we will go to church at FCF on Sunday! It's gonna be a wonderful weekend!

Okay, time to eat breakfast, finish reading my John Grisham book, "The Last Juror". I can't wait to read what happens next. I am half way through it.

Stay on the sunny side of life!

Walking in Floresville

I walked earlier today. It was 6:45 AM when I left the house. The sun was just coming up and it looked blood red. It caused the sky to be a brilliant red. But when I took a picture it appears yellow, and the sky is red. Maybe I need a filter on my camera? I hope the red sky means rain for South Texas.

When I came by the young mesquite tree in the fence line, I saw it had hundreds of mesquite beans on it. It isn't a tree yet!

It got me to thinking about the two big mesquite trees we had on Yucca Tr, in Hurst. Eddie hated those trees. They were loaded with beans and finally dropped in the grass and the driveway. He cussed those things when he had to sweep or rake them up. I think Bill took a sack home occasionally for smoking barbecue. Eddie was so happy when one of them died. He had Derek cut it down. I was so mad. Because I wanted him to leave the trunk and the big limbs on it, because I would hang flower baskets on those limbs and my yard looked beautiful. I came home from visiting Kristi and Bill on the ranch in East Texas, and discovered Eddie had had that tree cut down. Talk about crying. I did that.

I got home this morning and researched the internet, what mesquites were good for. Especially the beans. Wow. I think maybe I will start a business. If I were 50 years younger maybe I would.

This is what I found out: The common Mesquite grows in dry areas almost everywhere on earth, thanks to humans who treasure the food and wood it provides. Every part of a Mesquite is useful. Today as in the past we use the wood in great quantities for smoking meats. Mesquite wood is an excellent fuel and was sought after by all Native American groups and Europeans as well.

Mesquite beans were a major, if not the primary food source for the desert Apache, Pima, Cahuilla, Maricopa, Yuma, Yavapai, Mohave, Walapi, and Hopi tribes.Most Mesquite beans are sweet, typically containing about 30 percent sucrose; they produce sweet flour that can be baked into breads, mixed in water to make coffees and teas, and added as an ingredient to many other foods!
Mesquite is essential to the survival of wildlife in the desert. The survival of over 200 plants and animals is tied to the part the mesquite plays in the ecosystem of the desert. Mesquite is considered a “nurse plant” because of its ability to provide protection and nutrients.

Mesquite Beans placed on the grill release that same flavor as the mesquite charcoal or mesquite wood chips. In fact because the flavor is concentrated in the beans some people believe that the smoke of the beans is more intense then mesquite charcoal or chips.

Mesquite bean syrup

Made from extracting the juice from the mesquite bean pods. Slice a baking apple, pour Mesquite Bean Syrup on top and bake until soft. Also, serve over ice cream and pancakes!

Mesquite bean jelly

This amber colored jelly has a sweet apple and allspice flavor. It is a great compliment to any apple dish, on ham or pork entrees. This is made from the pods of the mesquite trees.

Mesquite flour

Mesquite is an excellent source of dietary fiber. Heidi Swanson who wrote a cookbook, described mesquite flour as "absolutely delicious, with a scent that is both warm and comforting but with much less edge than a cinnamon or even canela. When heated it permeates the kitchen with a mellow sweet fragrance that is unlike anything else"

Does anyone know how to make mesquite bean jelly? Think I will try that!

I will let you know how it turns out!

Walking on the upper road

I’m going by the upper road, for that

still holds the sun,

I’m climbing through night’s pastures where

the starry rivers run:

If you should think to seek me in my

old dark abode,

You’ll find this writing on the door,

“He’s on the Upper Road.”

–Selected (unknown)

Sometimes beauty is right around you, and you can't see it because things are so dark. So start walking on the upper road.

Went for a walk today at 7 a.m. I remember when I was so limber and in good shape, I could place my hands flat on the floor - while bending over - not even bending my knees. That was long ago, about 30 years ago. Maybe even 20 years ago. So I was limbering up before I went walking, and I tried it. I can still bend over, my legs straight, and touch my finger tips to the floor! I think I will do this each day, and one day I can place my hands flat on the floor again. Help me Lord.

While walking this morning I began to walk thinking how boring it was. Same fields, same street, no trees, no flowers, I could hear a lone bird chirping in the distance somewhere.

So I said to God, “Well, if you want me to walk, you’ll have to show me something I have never seen before. This is boring!

My hipbones were hurting and my joints felt like they needed oiling or something. I was in pain.

Then as I turned toward the fence line, I saw a lonely sunflower plant standing tall in the barbed wire fence, and had about 6 flowers, some small, others larger. They were beautiful! I took some pictures. Why hadn’t I noticed them before? I took one close-up and I noted the detail of the center of the flower. Beautiful!

I was thinking as I went on down the road, how sometimes there are things right around you that are so beautiful and you don’t see them!

Then I realized I wasn't hurting any more! I finished my walk with no pain. Isn't that amazing. Look what happened when I was walking on the upper road.

Brush with Death for is a wake-up call

Brush with Death is a wake-up call

Larry Gray is a 54-year-old ex-Marine who was in Vietnam. His life is wrought with near-death experiences. Larry, who is my niece Lisa’s husband, sat in our living room this week, talking about his life and the brushes with death that he has had. He recently came from the hospital; most it spent in ICU, where he was for two months, having faced another near death experience. This time he says it was a wake-up call for him.

When Larry was 6 years old, he was traveling with his daddy and his grandpa somewhere in West Texas. He remembers it was night, and he was in the back seat by his grandpa, lying down on the seat, and even though he was so young, he remembers looking up at the full moon in sky. Then he may have fallen asleep because the next thing he remembers there was a loud crash and he was out side the car, tumbling over and over again, on the ground.

He had been thrown from the car, out into a plowed field, and his head hit a stump, or something, he says, and he stopped tumbling. Then he remembers his daddy and grandpa calling his name, from way far off. He saw the headlights of the car, and the shadows of his grandpa and daddy in the distance. He jumped up and ran to them across the field crying. Larry was okay, except from that night on he began to stutter in his speech. His mother took him to doctors and they could not do anything for him.

Larry graduated from Highland High School in San Antonio and joined the Marines when he was 18 years old. He was in the infantry and went to Vietnam. He tells us about another time he should have been killed.

They were in a trench far out it the field in Vietnam. The trenches were just wide enough for one man and about 8 ft. long. They started getting rockets coming in from the enemy. Larry ran and jumped in a trench. He got down, and then he heard rocket hit and go off. A rocket hit right beside him in the trench. But it didn’t explode! It turned out to be a “dud”. It wasn’t his time to go, Larry said.

He had another brush with death in later years. Then he was living out in the Hill Country near Boerne. He was on his motorcycle on a winding road. It was nearly dark and all of sudden a large deer jumped out it front of the motorcycle. He just had time to grip his hands and his arms hard, on the handlebar of the cycle as he hit the deer broadside. The motorcycle flew over the deer, when it hit, and the deer was dead. He was still on the motorcycle. It had landed several feet on the other side and the cycle was nearly demolished, but Larry stood up not badly hurt at all. Just some scrapes and bruises.

As Larry thoughtfully stared at the floor, he turned and looked at me, and stated that he had three friends who had been killed on motorcycles. And one was when he hit a deer. I could tell he was thinking: “Why had God spared his life?”

Two months ago Larry got up one night to let the cat out. He fell down a flight of stairs that night, and lay in a pool of blood when finally Lisa who was asleep, woke up and heard him calling her name. He broke five ribs and his nose, but wound up in the ICU. Larry’s heart was not functioning right (he is on disability because of his heart), also developed kidney failure and pneumonia, then being put on a respirator, was in critical condition, and we didn’t know if God was finally going to call him home.

But God intervened again, and with the doctors and nurses taking care of him, he lived and is slowly gaining his strength back. Larry said to me that day in our living room, when he fell down the stairs, it was a wakeup call for him. I think he realizes that God wants him to make the most of the rest of his life. There were too many times that he should have died and God saved his life. He doesn’t just want him to sit around the house and do nothing. He is excited about life now. He is thinking of what it is God wants him to do.

The first thing Larry and Lisa are going to do is take a long needed vacation. Lisa is a 2^nd grade school teacher and these last two months have been draining for her too. She spent April and May teaching school, and then going to the hospital when she got off work. She didn’t know if Larry was going to make it this time. It has been long days and nights for Lisa.

Bon voyage, Larry and Lisa! Hope you have fun in Cancun!