The Journey Continues

Something a little different this morning: not a journey so much as a look back over an amazing journey that continues forward every day. Decided to go with a different style as well, and I hope you enjoy it.

The woman sits at the small dining table and looks west out across the lake below; coffee in hand and calm in her heart. The morning sun is beginning to rise above the hill to the east of the house she has lived in for 37 years, and a red bird sits on the deck rail across from her window.  It is a beautiful morning. A slight smile plays across her face as she thinks of previous mornings on this date, the journey is good.

She was born and raised in Kansas City, the youngest of three.  Her parents were hard working, and had survived the Great Depression to start their own business, a diaper service.  As a child and into adulthood, the woman had worked in the family business, as well as other business ventures.  MLZ Corporation had been her company, delivering cigarettes and towels throughout the Lake Ozark area during the fifties. She worked along side her father, driving speed boats and perfecting the art of water skiing.

She had attended the French Convent in Kansas City, and had survived one horrible semester in college.  She loved learning, and had a passion for reading.  She married a man she had met at fourteen and they built a solid life together.  They lived in Atchison, Kansas while he attended college, both running the local movie theaters at night. They had lived in Kansas City, and then the move to southeast Kansas came along, and here she was fifty some years later.  She loved her home, but it still surprised her that this is where they had settled.

After attending a Catholic girls' school, modeling for Harzfeld's, and attending society events and charitable fund raisers in the city, she had never anticipated she would move to a small town, then move into "the country", and run a cattle operation with her husband, Nor had she ever thought she would learn to put up hay in the heat of summer, build fence, fix water gaps, vaccinate cattle, ride horses, drive tractors, heat a farm house with an old Ashley wood stove, and fight frozen pipes in the dead of winter. Looking back she sees the good times, the great memories, the laughter as well as the struggles, the disappointments, the challenges --- Life was nothing if not adventurous.

Her two children are grown, in their fifties. Her son lives around the corner, just three miles away, and she sees him nearly every day, as they now run the cattle operation together.  Her daughter is a state away, but she visits when she can.  Three grandchildren are in constant contact and all plan to arrive for the holiday in two weeks.  She has a legacy, and a good one.

Her children see her as a strong, independent, compassionate, and determined woman.  The last two years have not been what she had hoped, but things are getting accomplished, and she is moving forward. So many things to look forward to in the next few weeks: Christmas!  The house will be crowded with people and a house dog.  It will be anything but quiet with meals to enjoy, some coming and going to the deer stand in search of the monster buck, sleeping arrangements to juggle and packages to open. Of course the grudge card match, spades is their game, will continue through nearly every night of the gathering. Family comes first, this is as it should be.

She travels. She travels with a close friend and then with her daughter.  It has been a delight to discover New Orleans, San Antonio, and the Civil War History of Maryland and Virginia.  More trips are in the planning and making-of-reservations stage, and she is looking forward to these trips. She enjoys the planning almost more than the traveling. Seeing new places, trying new foods, enjoying new beverages, exploring new sights and museums--- true adventures.

Events and celebrations are in the future, a grandson will graduate college. Another grandson will be married, and the family will grow.  She looks forward to all that lies ahead. Before the day is out, her grandchildren will call, or text,  to wish her a" Happy Birthday," she will open the gift her daughter stashed in the office over Thanksgiving, and she will enjoy dinner with great friends. She knows she has accomplished a great deal, worked successfully at different careers, retiring from administrative law enforcement, made sacrifices, and enjoyed rewards.

The Christmas tree sits in the east window, the lights winking, as if to remind her of the things she wants to get finished before the holidays arrive. Maybe just one more cup of coffee and a few more minutes enjoying the peace and calm. A minute or two to wish herself a "Happy Birthday."

Photo by Ryan Tindle

Journey in a Lifetime

It is 6:30 in the morning and Mom's house is very quiet.  Our oldest offspring has just left, bow in hand, to go sit in a tree stand, and hopefully bag one of the "big bucks".  Her dog has curled up on the sofa and is sound asleep. Everyone else is still in bed, preparing for the day ahead.  The holiday weekend is nearly over, but I wanted to arise early and have some quiet time and watch the sun peek over the east hill before the day begins.

Today marks a very special day for me, a day in which I like to look at past photographs and spend time reflecting on years gone by.  Thirty years ago today Keith and I were married at the Shrine of St. Patrick in Laurie, Missouri.  It was Thanksgiving evening on the twenty-eighth anniversary of my parents, Kirk and Madeleine Hartnett.  While my folks were married in the morning, due to fasting rules for attending Mass, they also celebrated their marriage on Thanksgiving.

When I met Keith, in Jefferson City, Missouri, he was all "city-kid" and I was definitely a country girl trying to become a city dweller.  We became fast friends and discovered we had many things in common, same taste in music and movies, both Catholic and members of the same parish, both wanted to settle down and have a family, love of travel and exploration of this great country.

We enjoyed a romantic courtship and a fairy-tale wedding.  We had great friends, jobs, and a really cute apartment.  It was like a romantic movie of the 1980s.  Then life came calling.  There were heavy disappointments, great joys, challenges with careers, and family focused decisions, but we kept moving forward.  We were too young, or self-centered, to realize these struggles were all steps in a lifetime journey.  And for thirty years we have continued to put one foot in front of the other.  Sometimes we trip each other, or push each other forward, or hold each other back for some time to reason out a decision, but we continue down this path together.

I am a stubborn, hard headed Irish woman who likes to take charge and solve the problem.  I am not one to show emotion easily, and have a tendency to expect a great deal of myself and others.  In short, not an easy person to live with.  Keith has never faltered. He puts up with my ill temper calmly, most often with a voice of reason and support.  Keith, my city-boy, has grown into a rural resident at heart.  He loves the outdoors, has worked for MoDot his entire career with retirement in short sight, has a easy going sense of humor, and is the most loyal KC Cheifs fan I know.

We both enjoy bow hunting, day-trip traveling, sitting on the deck with a beverage and solving the world's problems, and have recently taken up short hiking excursions.  We seem to do everything together and have remained best friends for thirty years of marriage. Now, with the kids grown and on their own, the youngest graduates from college in the spring, we are planning travel adventures and solidifying retirement plans.  Where did the time go?

I have often wondered how does a marriage become a good solid family foundation that survives thirty years? There is no magic formula or perfect advice to follow.  Keith and I are very lucky to have his folks and my folks as examples of what a strong marriage looks like. We also share the same faith and practice that faith, attending Sunday Mass together, being active members of our parish, and raising our children in the same faith.  Marriage is work! It is the best job I will ever have, but it takes commitment and serious effort to travel through thirty years together, raise kids, pay bills, and religiously find time every day for each other. It is so worth the effort and the time!  Keith and I know we can face anything in this world, together.

In a couple of hours, Keith and I will go to Mass, everyone else went last evening while I was sitting in a tree stand. Then the hustle and bustle of the week will be upon us.  Packing, driving back home, unpacking, figuring out supper plans, starting the laundry, and getting organized for the week ahead. Chances are I will think about the wedding album as I doze off to sleep, and not take time to enjoy the pictures of thirty years ago. I hope I remember that as soon as the alarm sounded this morning and I rolled slowly out of bed, Keith grabbed my hand and said, "Happy Anniversary."

Photo Credit: Ryan Tindle

A Different Journey of Gratitude

Good Morning!

Yesterday was Thanksgiving, and hopefully everyone found time to enjoy family and friends.  Hopefully, everyone found time to reflect on the positives in life: family, memories, friends, and a great meal.

Legend, as introduced in American elementary schools, is that the Pilgrims and Native Americans celebrated the first Thanksgiving to express gratitude for surviving the harsh beginnings of Plymouth Plantation. In essence, the general theme of gathering the harvest and welcoming neighbors for a celebratory feast is the root of the first Thanksgiving.  A tradition that has become a national holiday.

Has this holiday been overshadowed by other things?  Do we really think about the origins of this day?  It is so easy to get tied up in the preparations for the big meal, family traveling to and from, setting the table, cleaning up after the big meal, finding room for sleep over guests, and planning the rest of the weekend's activities.  Then there are football games! When the house quiets down on Thursday's evening, plans for Black Friday shopping and Christmas decorating are on the top of the lists of weekend projects.  So, how much thanks is actually given on Thanksgiving?

PART TWO...

Saturday morning....

Yesterday, as I was writing the above portion of this post, enjoying coffee with Mom and getting geared up to truly reflect on a holiday that seems to be waning in it's appreciation, I received a startling phone call that brought every self-serving intention to an abrupt halt.

Our parish in Fulton, St. Peter Parish, received a terrible blow Friday.  Father Frank Bussmann, our parish priest died after suffering a massive stroke the night before.  Father Frank was a genuine man and a very devout priest. During the six and a half years he was our pastor, he brought a peace and reverence to our parish and school that will long be remembered.

Father's homilies for the children's Liturgies were inspiring and enlightening.  He had a great knowledge of the travels and ministry of St. Paul, and shared that knowledge through age appropriate stories and explanations about the Scripture reading of the day.  His love of the Saints often led to discussions within the religion classes following Mass. When personal and community loss visited our small rural parish, Father Frank was so very compassionate and supportive. His spiritual leadership following the deaths of two students in a two year time span was of great solace to many.

When my family was journeying through mourning the loss of my dad, Father Frank was very helpful to me, listening and guiding with a solid faith base and an understanding of how hard it is to lose a family member. He was helpful in ways he will never know, but in ways that taught me it was okay to be "at a loss" of how to find the right way to deal with grief.

The students enjoyed Father's visits to the classroom. When the children served as readers for the school Masses, he would so enjoy hearing the youngest of students read, and never missed an opportunity to thank the student choir for their hard work.  I often have heard students who were altar servers comment on how they enjoyed serving Mass with Father Frank because he never got upset if they made a mistake. The students truly liked Father Frank

So, as we are winding down the holiday weekend designated as a time for reflection and thanksgiving, I want to ignore the shopping, the decorating, the football games, and whatever other madness this holiday seems to compete with and just be thankful.  I have an amazingly strong and loving family who have no comprehension of the word defeat.  These people; my brother, Mom, my husband Keith and our wonderful children are all the foundation that allows us all to grow and chase our dreams.  I am thankful for the wonderful community of St. Peter Parish and all the prayers I know are being offered for the Bussmann family during this painful time.  Father Frank, thank you for being may pastor, for all you brought to St. Peter, for all the times you listened to me and the would thank me for teaching at St. Peter School. I hope to follow your example of living a life of sincerity and faith and gratitude for all the Good Lord provides.

A Tiny Church and a Small Town

Yesterday, we headed out of San Antonio toward Houston to visit my Uncle Dennis and Aunt Joyce who live on Lake Conroe.  Driving was very stress-free, and we began to really enjoy the scenery: cattle ranches and small rural town along the roadside. Dennis had suggested we find a church between Warrenton and Round Top, Texas.  Our GPS misdirected us by about a half mile, but mom spotted the church.  We turned around and parked in front of St. Martin's, the tiniest, active Catholic Church in the country!

St. Martin's Church

This tiny church sits just outside of Warrenton, Texas, nestled in the pasture land of the area.  We ventured into the yard, through the cemetery, and entered the church.  This beautiful chapel-sized church is a very rustic and charming building.  The pastor regularly celebrates Mass, and visitors are encouraged to write down Mass intention requests.

The Altar in St. Martin's

After we left St. Martin's we traveled into Round Top, Texas for lunch.  What a find!  This charming little town of 94 people is a step into quiet, charming, rural America.  We enjoyed a wonderful lunch at Teague's Tavern, then wandered through the Henkel Square.  With a fountain in the center of this beautiful park, walkways wander through shops with late 1800s storefronts.  A small church is at the "head" of the walkway, and there was a little arched wooden bridge crossed to the fountain.

The church in Henkel Square, Round Top, Texas

Henkel Square fountain

Store in Henkel Square

This little town hosts a huge antique fair twice a year when thousands flock to the area to buy, sell, and trade antiques.  This venue would be a great destination to visit, not necessarily during the antique fairs, when you could spend a day or two just wandering through town.  Unfortunately, most of the businesses are closed on Mondays and Tuesdays, so we just took pictures and moved down the road.

Seating in the Henkel Square.

Mission Trail

Saturday and Sunday we have explored the area south of downtown San Antonio.  As recommended by Jeffery at our hotel, Wyndham Gardens, we visited the San Jose Mission, the Queen of the Missions, Saturday.  It was very easy to find and the parking was very nice.

We visited the onsite museum, learning a great deal about the four missions along the Mission Trail south of the river walk.  With a wonderful self-guided tour map, we entered the southeast gate of the mission. The walls are all intact with access to small "apartments" designated  for the Native American residents.  Three wells were visible across the complex.  There were stone foundation remains of the workshop areas.

Small "apartments" for the Native Americans were built within the walls around the perimeter of the mission.

I was in awe at the size of the church and what had been the priest's residence and work areas for the lay people. A huge to-scale model in the northwest corner of the complex was very informative of what daily life had been like in this mission.  It was amazing to realize we were walking where people had lived, worked, and prayed nearly 300 years ago.  As mom noted, "It is a very reverent place."

On the south side of the church was the Rosa's window, sculpted in 1775, by a Spanish artist as a tribute to his lost love, Rosa.  Legend claims that the pastor would stand in the window, elevating the Blessed Sacrament, and the Native Americans and Spanish colonists would kneel outside the window in Adoration.  The carvings around the window are beyond beautiful, even though time has worn away some of the finer details.

Rosa's Window

We walked leisurely about the grounds and out the north entrance to the grist mill.  The aquifer was running clear and the gristmill was displayed for all to see how it had worked centuries ago. Mom really enjoyed that and was fascinated by the mechanical workings of the mill.

Grist mill

Next, we wanted to see the interior of the church, and mom was very interested to see if it would be similar to the San Diego Mission she and Dad had visited years ago with Aunt Marggie and Uncle Bill.  The west entrance to the church is a facade of four larger that life statues, earning this mission the title: Queen of the Missions.

Front facade of San Jose Mission Church

When we entered the church, all visitors were so reverent and quiet.  I was thrilled we were allowed to take pictures. The back Altar was a true work of art! Plain wood pews gave the interior an authentic feel as we paused to sit and reflect on where we were.  It was a very moving experience.

Altar of San Jose Mission Church

A thunderstorm began moving in, so we visited the gift shop and decided to call it a day.  Sunday morning, after breakfast and lots of shopping we headed out to visit Mission Concepcion.  I wanted to take the mission trail, the roadway of the early 1700s that connected the four missions south of Mission San Antonio, now called the Alamo, but I missed the turn.  We did connect up with the Mission Trail and easily found the Mission.  However, there was very little parking and that was filled to capacity...Mass was in progress.  Then the rain reappeared.  So I parked, kind of, and hurried across the lawn to take pictures and read the historical markers.  What I found fascinating was that the rock quarry  used to build the church and other structures, was partially visible, on site.  Only the church and adjacent building remained of this mission, but we could still get a feel of how it might have been.  The well was more ornate and the church doors, as at Mission San Jose, were massive wooden structures.

I would have to say, of the three missions we visited this week, San Antonio (Alamo), Concepcion, and San Jose, the most rewarding was San Jose.  It truly challenges the imagination to stand in the center of that enclosure and wonder what life must have been like in the 1720s in the Spanish territory of North America.

A Riverwalk, a Plaza, and walk with Teddy Roosevelt

San Antonio is a beautiful city with much to truly enjoy.  Around the Alamo and "Battle for Texas" museum, mom and I have enjoyed many other attractions, learned to embrace Uber, and have taken a riverboat cruise through the amazing river walk area of San Antonio.

Yesterday we did some shopping and stumbled upon the Menger Hotel on the Alamo Plaza. Mom had read up on this site, so we walked into the lobby and began looking about.  What a beautiful, classy hotel, Built in 1859, the original hotel became so popular an addition was added almost immediately after the opening year.  Upon Mr. Menger's death in 1871, the hotel was sold, yet maintained the name. Over the years more additions, a swimming pool, a new ballroom, and air conditioning have been added.  As you venture from the Plaza entrance, the walls are lined with pictures of events held at the hotel and the multitude of notable Americans who have visited the Menger.  I was elated to see that Teddy Roosevelt had been a guest!

Mom and I entered the Menger Bar and noted the wonderful woodwork, bar, and back bar.  The bartender, Angela, was a wonderful font of historical information!  She was charming and very enjoyable to visit with as she shared hotel and local history! When the Menger Bar was in the original location, on the opposite side of the hotel, Teddy Roosevelt recruited many of the Rough Riders! During Prohibition the bar was totally disassembled. After the repeal of the 18th Amendment, the bar was moved to the current location, piece by piece, and reassembled.There is a wealth of memorabilia in this very quaint bar, originally designed after the House of Lords Pub in England.  I was very excited to be visiting a place of such rich history!

Menger Bar and Back Bar, built in 1887.

Menger Bar designed to duplicate the House of Lords Pub in England.

We also explored the river walk area just beyond the Alamo Plaza.  This is a beautiful venue and a very clean area.  After a light lunch and more shopping we boarded the Rio San Antonio River Taxi and headed north. 

Waiting for our river taxi on the San Antonio River Walk

Waterfalls and gardens along the River Walk

 

Many beautiful sites along the hour's journey out to the "Pearl" district. The hotels, restaurants, and gardens are right on the river, and the views cannot be described!  At one point, just a short distance from our hotel, there is a lock, and that was a great adventure to experience first hand.

Going through the Lock

Wyndham Gardens, our Hotel

This morning mom and I returned to the Alamo Plaza for a carriage ride before venturing to the "Battle for Texas" museum.  We waited in a charming park across from the Menger Hotel.  Our carriage ride was wonderful, and a light breeze helped beat the early morning heat.  

A beautiful park in the Alamo Plaza

Our carriage awaits!

We are really enjoying our time in San Antonio.  Tomorrow we plan to visit many of the Missions in the area and check out new adventures in dining!

Remember the Alamo!

Yesterday mom and I ventured down to the Alamo.  Thanks to my oldest, I had an Uber account and Elaine drove us directly to the Alamo Plaza.  What a beautiful venue!  While mom and I enjoyed the gardens, people watching, and shopping in the gift shop, we were disenchanted with the experience overall.  The grounds are beautiful, and there was a re-enactment on part of the park lawn, but there was little literature to direct us in a self guided tour.  We did figure it out and were able to get great pictures.

When we were able to enter the original church at the Alamo, the trip improved.  Very awesome atmosphere with a feeling of reverence and respect.  Mom was fascinated by the archaeological information and efforts within the naves.  I am glad we were able to walk on such hallowed ground. However, I was a little underwhelmed.

A memorial for the Tejanos who defended the Alamo.

Now this morning we returned to the Alamo Plaza and visited the "Battle for Texas" museum at the Riverwalk Center.  This was an excellent museum!  The collection of artifacts was very impressive, and the self guided literature was informative and easy to follow.  The music and biographical testimonies, played in the background, were truly as asset, setting the tone and establishing an authentic atmosphere.

One of the many murals in the reception area of the "Battle for Texas; the Experience"

At one point, the visitor walks through a re-creation of the barracks as the Mexican Army made its last assault, and the sound affects, props, and actual re-creation films were very life-like.  Although creepy at first, it was well worth the walk through the the last hours of the fierce fight to hold the Alamo.

The last two rooms of the museum are so very patriotic we were both moved to tears.  One room has a solemn listing of each defender's name, and these names are continuously read aloud as a visitor walks by a wall portrait of the Alamo Mission.  The walls of the last room are covered with quotes about Texas, spoken by famous figures in politics, literature, sports, and entertainment.  A huge panoramic screen displays beautiful pictures of the Texas landscapes, cities, ranches, and famous Texans.  I left feeling proud to have been allowed to visit Texas!  Every state chamber of commerce in the Union should visit this room in the museum and see how to truly promote a state!

Mom really enjoyed it, and we both enjoyed this more than the Alamo!

If I were to do this adventure again, I would recommend the "Battle of Texas Museum" visit first, and then move onto the Alamo and enjoy making the connections between the life stories of the defenders and the ground they fought valiantly to hold in 1836.

Adventure 2017: The Journey Begins

Our adventure for the summer began yesterday morning as we pulled out of Durant, Oklahoma and headed south into Texas!  The obligatory breakfast stop at Cracker Barrel yielded some shopping and a great meal, then we were "on the road".

Choctaw statue outside the Casino in Durant, Oklahoma

I don't know what I expected, but the route we drove did not give way to much scenic viewing.  I believe I had this idea of wide open spaces, cattle ranches and horse farms.  We did see some nice horse operations in the northern part of the state, and I managed to catch a glimpse of a few cattle, but otherwise, my attention was totally held to the task of driving!  I was surprised by the amount of traffic and lack of open area between towns and cities!

So, had pretty well accepted that my expectations were off kilter and then we hit Dallas! There are just no words to describe a country girl trying to navigate five lanes of traffic, a total jam up due to an accident, and the five lanes converging into three lanes through road construction.  Needless to say, I missed an off ramp we needed, so we were lost!  Found a 7-eleven for gas, switched to using mom's phone for navigation instead of the GPS in her car and found our way onto I-35 South! Success!

No! Road Construction!  Switched back to the car GPS, only to discover that the new highways do not match the GPS locator. But, we adjusted and knew I-35 took us right where we needed to be in San Antonia, so we accepted our loss in travel time and began to relax and enjoy the ride.

We arrived in Austin at 5:35 p.m. and discovered the true meaning of grid lock!  Enough said.

Upon arriving in San Antonio, we arrived at the Wyndham Garden Riverwalk/Museum Reach.  A beautiful establishment with the most pleasant staff.  Mom and I dropped our luggage, literally and headed to the outdoor patio.  After a delightful supper we were able to laugh about our traveling adventures.

Evening view from the hotel patio, San Antonio, Texas

This morning we ventured down town for a meeting mom had, and I found driving along the Riverwalk area to be charming and enjoyable.  San Antonio seems to be a city of friendly and relaxed people, especially the valet attendants at the La Cascada Condo Complex!  Trying to find a parking place, I whipped into the parking area and told the valet, "I will pay whatever to park this car!"  He grinned, and immediately helped us out.

The late afternoon sun is warming the patio and the San Antonio River is lazily resting just outside out hotel.  Tomorrow is Riverboat tour, River taxi (I am not driving), and exploring along the Riverwalk.

The adventure has begun!

The Journey of True Fatherhood

Today has been designated Father's Day!  A day for cards, gifts, cookouts, and pampering for our Fathers. When the kids were smaller, we had a few traditions for this special day, one being to spend the entire day outdoors. Missouri weather in June is usually warm, but not terribly hot, so our days were filled with backyard games, gifts, and grilling supper on the patio. Because the kids are no longer living at home, and other life events happened, these traditions have fallen by the wayside. However, we all need to take time and acknowledge the true fathers in our lives.

Fatherhood is not an easy journey.  In generations past, fatherhood success was measured by how well a man provided for his family, how well his children behaved, and how successful his children became as adults.  These are good measuring tools, but certainly not a realistic look at fatherhood. As we all know, there is much more involved in being a parent.  There are nights of sleepless worry, long evenings of after school activities, teacher conferences, homework assistance, and the list goes on.

My husband, Keith, is an amazing father.  He is not always the stereotypical "Dad", and that is what makes him a true example for our three children.  Keith always aspired to have a regular-houred job so that he could be home on evenings and weekends.  And he has worked very hard to create a career that continues to provide for our family.  However, there were numerous years we could not make ends meet on our two regular salaries, so Keith took on extra work.  He has flipped burgers at McDonalds, cleaned office buildings, refinished floors, worked the sporting goods counter at WalMart, and served several years as school custodian.  Even with all those extra work hours, he always made time to play with the kids, making his days off something we all looked forward to.  Over the years, he has coached basketball and soccer, sometimes when our kids were not playing on his team!

Most importantly Keith has taught our children, by example, how to treat other people, regardless of personal opinion.  He has encouraged, and sometimes forced, our children to share their opinions, debate the issues, and form independent thought. Disagreeing with their father was allowed, as long as it was done respectfully.  He would discipline the teen-age years with a firm, quiet, no nonsense approach, but hardly ever got irritated.  He encouraged each of the children to follow dreams and explore nontraditional areas of education.  Keith always treats me with love and respect and expected the same from his children.  His greatest joy at this time in his life is celebrating, any occasion will do, with his children.

Those who know Keith know he is a relaxed, easy going individual.  That example of how to face challenges and disappointments has served as a great example for our kids.  His attitude of "it will work out, we just have to figure it out", has served us all well. He truly enjoys spending time with his family, and isn't embarrassed to show it! He has taught all of us how to have fun!

Sometimes fatherhood has nothing to do with biology. Often we encounter great "father figures" who are not related to our families at all.  Growing up I had Gene McGinnis, Max Shinkle, and Bill Nelson, friends of my parents.   My memories of these men are warm, laughter-filled, lesson-learning memories. My children have their Uncles Joel and Jake to look toward for guidance and encouragement.

Both of these men, although the same age, actually attended the same University, are very different.  Joel, Keith's brother, lives in the Kansas City area and travels a great deal for his career.  he and his wife Michelle have offered two of my children lodging for extended periods of time as they pursued internships and career training. Joel and Michelle have a very open policy of "my house, your house" which has helped us a great deal. What a wonderful example of true hospitality.

Jake, my brother, lives in Kansas, does not travel much, and has had a great influence in the lives of our children.  He loves to laugh, enjoys a great joke, and is a good listener.  All three kids have had the opportunity to work side-by-side with Jake completing tasks on the family ranch.  Over the last few years Jake has worked very hard to nurture a relationship with his niece and nephews. His influence in their lives is extremely valuable.

All three of these men, Keith, Jake, Joel, live different lifestyles, work at very different careers, and enjoy their free time differently.  They all have traveled the journey of fatherhood, and they have each approached it with their own style.  While most of us automatically associate fatherhood with the biological link to offspring, there are "fathers" who are examples of who a man should be.

To all the men who step forward to guide and lead the next generations, thank you for being fathers.  Happy Father's Day!

The Journey of True Friendship

May 12, 2017

Today is a special day for my dear friend Kristie Wilson.  While teaching full time, she has earned her Masters Degree in Math Education, and she graduates today.  Due to work activities, I am unable to attend the commencement, but am so very proud of her.

Friends are so very important in our lives.  From the time we begin to develop beyond infancy we look for companionship; another person with whom to share our adventures.  Most childhood friendships run their course, and we lose track of one another as we grow up.  Through high school we form friendships that seem, at the time, to be destined to last a life-time.  Some of those relationships endure, but many do not.  Then in college we repeat the pattern of forging wonderful, strong friendships, and we swear to work to maintain these wonderful treasures.  I, for one, have not done that.  Life, marriage, career, moving to another state all seemed to trump the necessity of "keeping in touch".

I have watched my children do a much better job at maintaining friendships.  Coby has wonderful friendships from grammar school, high school, and college.  Mark served as Best Man for a friend he met in kindergarten, and J.T. rooms with his kindergarten bestie!  Maybe the younger generations will work harder to maintain these special connections.

As an adult, and more recently, I have come to understand that friendship takes real work, and that work is worth the rewards.  We have to remember that friendship is a lot of give and take, and we have to willing to do both the giving and the taking.  Kristie Wilson has taught be this important lesson.

Do you remember the Tim Allen show Home Improvement? Tim's character in the show had a wise, all knowing, patient neighbor named Wilson.  Kristie Rose Wilson is my Wilson!  This woman is the example of patience!  She will listen to me rant and rave with a very calm expression.  Once in a while she will draw in a deep breath and say, "Let it go!" And I listen, and I hear her.

We have worked together for several years and have been more than friends.  I have a wonderful brother, and really never yearned for a sister, but I was given a sister in Wilson.  She truly is family to all of us.  We have traveled to my hometown just because she wanted to see where I came from!  Plans for a trip to her stomping grounds in Louisiana are in the works.

We have laughed together, ranted about our frustrations and disappointments, celebrated together, sometimes just for the sake of celebrating.  We have mourned together. There have been times she has come in early to work just so we can talk.  I have called her when my world seemed to be falling apart and asked her come over; she was there.  When my dad was dying and it seemed to be the darkest hour of my life, I called her from the hospital waiting room.  I have no idea what time it was.  I remember telling her "I can't stand this!" Wilson' response was, "Yes, you can, I am right here."  At that moment, 300 miles meant nothing.  She was right there with me.  She stayed on the phone until I was calm and reassured that I could stand what was happening.  Then the next week, she took off work, with three other of our close friends, and they drove that 300 miles to come be with me and my family for Daddy's funeral Mass!

Wilson is a city girl, a "Jake Hartnett honorary" homecoming queen, a mother, a wife, a teacher, a law-degree recipient, a great convention roommate, my compass on the days I am swamped with papers to grade, lessons to write, and self-induced stress. She doesn't blink when I tear up in anger and frustration.  Her sense of humor has brightened many a dreary morning, and her level-headed approach to seemingly impossible tasks is a constant inspiration.

 This woman has taught me to let grudges go, to accept that I am human and I have flaws, that it is okay to accept help and even ask for it, and I have no responsibility to be perfect.  I have laughed, cried, cussed, partied, celebrated, and mourned with this strong, loving, amazing sister. Today, when Wilson walks across that commencement stage and receives her Masters Degree, I might not be in that stadium, but I will be "right there".

Congratulation, Wilson!

Journey back to Good Manners

January 22, 2017

When did we begin to accept basic rudeness as acceptable? I believe we all, for the most part, know the basics of good manners.  I believe we know how to use good manners.  We choose not to!

Oh, we all say, "Hello," use "excuse me" to get through a crowded area, and even throw out "please" and "thank you" at acceptable times.  But do we stop there?  Yes, most of us believe saying the words by rote is practicing good manners.  Some of us even work hard to practice the exemplary table manners our parents painstakingly forced us to learn as children.   When the meal is complete, we can silently praise our outstanding etiquette, and feel superior.  And in there lies our fault.

Good manners are guides for behaving appropriately in polite society.  Well, our society isn't very polite, and it is our fault.  We created this society.  Yes, we did! Somewhere along the last forty years, maybe even longer, we began to accept the idea that whatever we feel or think needs to be shared, verbally, with the rest of our peer group.  If we deliberately hurt someone's feelings, we justify it by standing on the ground that "honesty is the best policy", or "the truth hurts".  Why do we need to hurt others to get our point across?

One the other hand, when did we become so sensitive and outraged by another's poor choice of words.  We are okay with pointing out other's faults, but are offended if someone points out a perceived flaw in our own behavior. The we go one step further and decide no one can say or believe anything we disagree with because we are then offended. We then go one step further and appoint ourselves the "politically correctness police", calling out those who disagree as something less than we see ourselves.  I call "balderdash!"

 I believe we have become a very self-centered and self-indulgent people.  "It is all about me." When did looking out for others become so obsolete?  Why are we not looking out for our neighbor?  Why are we not worried about how the other man/woman might feel if we say what we are thinking?  Social media has created a huge audience of selfish people looking for the number of shares and likes to a post, regardless what that post might be, receives.  It all becomes about how popular one becomes for the moment.  Kind of reminds me of the hateful days of high school, only it is worse. We should care about how others feel as a person.  We do not all have to agree to walk/work side-by-side.

We are pushed, pulled, and guilted into believing that there is a certain way to think, a certain cause that MUST be supported, and particular candidate or policy that must be destroyed, and if we don't get on board we are a bigot, a deplorable, an idiot. We are all intelligent human beings, all having the ability to form our own opinions, and capable of expressing those opinions.  This country was founded on freedoms, and one of those freedoms is freedom of speech.  We were not founded on the freedoms of rude behavior and hateful speech.  All humans should be treated with dignity, and it is our responsibility to to so.  Honest disagreements over religion, politics, women's marches, education, etc... are going to always be in the mix, but how we each respond to those disagreements is the true measure of a person.

Good manners goes beyond going through a very few motions and responses.  We need to listen, without interrupting.  We need to acknowledge other people with a smile, a nod, a verbal response.  We need to THINK before we speak, write, text, We need to look beyond the words, the protests, the anger and see the human on the other sided. Maybe, we need to "walk that mile in his shoes" and try some empathy,

This post has the tone of ranting, and I am ranting because I am so saddened by the way we treat one another.  We, are called as God's people, to practice the virtue of charity (love), and we, as an American society, are not doing a very good job.

It is still a very new year.  Let's all try to pause and use some good manners.  It might not even be noticed the first few days, but it will make a difference. Read that text before you hit send.  Is that response or post on Facebook really what you want the whole world to read?  I remind my students that their future spouses, children, and even grandchildren will be able to find their entire past on Google.  Will those results be positive reflections?