Saturday lunch is
almost a ritual for me—tuna fish salad and cottage cheese. But today was really
different. I went to the Fort Worth Neighborhood Community Awards Luncheon. The
Poohbah, the neighborhood newsletter I edit, was a finalist for an award.
Stars in Subie’s crown for going with me.
The event was at
the Bob Bolen Public Safety Complex, a sprawling, multi-building thing on the
far south side of the city that serves as headquarters for the police and fire
departments and training grounds for both. I should have known about that when
I was writing mysteries set in Fort Worth. Might have made a huge difference and even spawned
a new novel.
We were surprised
that we had to check in through a scanning station just like the airport. Of
course my walker set off all kinds of alarms, and the attendant made a huge
joke of it. But then we found the luncheon was in the next building—not a huge
distance away but a daunting walk for me. A kind gentleman whose official
duties I never figured out asked if we’d like to ride in a golf cart, and we—at
least I—eagerly said yes. We waited almost forever but were finally whisked
down to the luncheon.
Found out there
was a table from our neighborhood, with our names on seats and food delivered
without Subie having to stand in the long line. So we settled in, had lunch,
visited with those at the table, and finally at one o’clock, the program began.
The usual introductions and acknowledgments and a speaker, blessedly brief, on
the importance of changing your health habits and eating a plant-based diet—as we
were served chicken, mashed potatoes, and green beans.
Then the awards.
The newsletter category was first, but there were apparently two
sub-categories, and we were not mentioned in the first. By this time one of my
hearing aids had gone out, and I wasn’t hearing all that was going on. But I
sat there and thought, “Oh, swell. These people at this table have come to see
us win, and we didn’t.” But then in the second category, we were first
mentioned. I asked Steve Scanlon, Berkeley Place Association president, to
accept for me—no way I was going to hold up the program while we fetched my
walker and struggled me up to the stage, though the past president kindly said,
“We’ll help you.” Steve came back with a nice certificate.
There were lots of
awards following, and what Subie and I were impressed by was the way
neighborhoods are reaching out to each other and neighborhood associations are
doing such wonderful work to bind their people together and to help those who
need assistance in their neighborhoods. They have all kinds of projects and
events to benefit their neighbors. Truly impressive. There were also individual
awards—Neighborhood Police Officer, volunteer of the year, and neighborhood of
the year—which Berkeley won last year.
After the
ceremony, Subie snagged the mayor as she was leaving, and she willingly agreed
to pose for a picture. When she sat down next to me, I said, “You know my
grandson,” and she of course asked who. When I named him, she said, “Of course. He’s such a doll.”
We had a moment together about 13-year-old grandsons, because she too has one.
The golf cart was
waiting after the lunch, and we were whisked back to our car, thankful to be
out of an increasingly cold wind. All in all, it was a good experience, and I’m
really glad we went.
But I came home
and slept for an hour and a half. And tonight—yep, you guessed it. I had tuna
salad and cottage cheese And a half an
individual piece of chocolate mousse cake. Oh, my!
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| Mayor Betsy Price, BPA president Steve Scanlon, and me |
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