A good/bad day for TCU and some voting news

 

There was much joy among TCU fans today as the Frogs pulled off an amazing victory in double overtime to beat Oklahoma State 43-40. A capacity crowd in Amon Carter Stadium cheered the victory, many rushing onto the field. On Facebook, ecstatic fans reported exhaustion, hoarseness, bliss, surprise, all kinds of joy. Some confessed they had reservations about the hiring of Sonny Dykes but now they are fans. For the Frogs, so beleaguered in the last couple of seasons, it was truly a triumphant day.

But there was sadness—Dr William E. Tucker, chancellor from 1979 until 1998, passed away today. For many of us it was an unexpected shock. This kind and gentle man felt like a personal friend to any who had met him even once. When I first went to work on the administration side of things (TCU Press), coming from the classroom first as a graduate student and then an occasional adjunct, I had no idea who this slight but friendly man was that I kept meeting in the stairwell. Soon enough, I learned it was the chancellor. Thereafter, I saw him and his lovely wife, Jean, at church. They always knew exactly who I was and greeted me as though I were a close friend. When Jean’s health failed, Bill often came to church alone. I had retired and suffered some health problems, and he would stop to ask how I was doing. He was that kind of a good man.

In the next few days, obituaries will praise his many accomplishments as an ordained minister, the dean of Brite Divinity School, president of Bethany College, and, finally, chancellor of the university, the position from which he retired. There’s no need for me to list his record, but as one who worked for the university during his leadership, I just want to say the world is a little bit less bright tonight.

And it’s Saturday night. So what does a grandmother, single and in her eighties, do on a Saturday night? Why, address envelopes for those Beto letters I so carefully formatted on my computer, of course. My handwriting has not improved with age, so addressing the envelopes loomed as a great chore. Writing by hand is like a lot of other things—if I can do it automatically without thinking about it, I’m pretty much okay; but if I think about trying to write perfectly, I mess up. Today I only had to scrap one envelope—it was a complicated Polish name, and my first attempt was a disaster. And I had to reprint one letter because I had made the salutation part of the recipient’s name in the address. I looked at it and thought “Dear” was a strange first name, but you know people have a lot of unusual first names. Then I realized what I’d done. Tonight, I’m relieved and a bit proud to have finished.

I still get those emails begging for money, telling me I’ve been chosen, implying that my vote is the one thing that the entire election hinges on, and why won’t I say how I’m voting. But I am also getting pleas to help—specifically to be a poll watcher. Lord knows, with the rumors about voter intimidation going around, we need poll watchers. So, these emails make me feel a bit guilty, but I can’t respond to a form letter and point out that I am mobility challenged and cannot possibly do that.

The Act Blue donation site has been down again—at least it won’t talk to my computer (several sites won’t, and friend Mary thinks it’s me). Anyway, not that I am able to contribute that much but there’s another reason for my guilt. Tonight, it appeared to be working so I sent modest checks to the DCCC and to John Fetterman, because I hate that Dr. Oz and Tucker Carlson and others are broadcasting disinformation about his stroke recovery. Fetterman, admitting recovery is hard, said it best: In January, he’ll be better, and Oz will still be a fraud.

And I filled out my mail-in ballot today, being careful to meet all the new requirements. My ballot was rejected in the primaries, and I by gosh want to be sure it’s counted this time. Straight blue ticket, but I noted that the ballot no long offers you the option to vote a straight ticket. You must go through and laboriously mark each box.

Hooray! I get to read the rest of the evening. I’m reading a manuscript sent me with a request for comments. It’s a PI thriller, not my usual reading, but I’m hooked and biting my nails a lot. When it’s published, I’ll alert you all.

Sweet dreams and positive thoughts!

A new medical school—shall we rejoice?

I am a child of osteopathic medicine. My father was president of an osteopathic college and administrator of the associated hospital. When my brother and I were young, we could count eighteen D.O.s in the family. My ex-husband was a D.O. Today, my brother (retired) and one nephew and one niece represent the family in the profession. I went to work in an osteopathic hospital at the age of fourteen and worked in D.O. institutions off and on until the early 1980s, doing secretarial and then marketing work. To say I am thoroughly steeped in the osteopathic philosophy is probably an understatement.

To me, ever a lay person, it boils down to one simple contrast. Osteopathic medicine teaches that health is the body’s natural way of life and that dis-ease of any one part of the body affects the entire body. Allopathic medicine—traditional or mainstream western medicine—focuses on the dis-ease and curing it. (Allopathic is a term mostly used by proponents of alternative forms of medicine—like me).

My own health history provides an example. Before my hip surgery, a bone that had gone amuck was protruding through the cap of the hip joint and into the abdominal cavity. In addition to pain, I had wild gastrointestinal and urinary symptoms. I asked my M.D. surgeon (who I pretty much think walks on water) about it, and he said no relation because the offending femur was to the left of the abdomen. Well, sorry, I don’t believe that. I think it caused an imbalance and uproar in the entire system. Now that I am well past surgery, those side effects are gone.

D.O. physicians also believe in minimal use of medication, and as a survivor of an unneeded prescription of digitalis, I can testify to that. It made me so nauseous I could barely function, and to my astonishment, the doctor’s office said, “Just quit taking it.” If it wasn’t crucial why was I taking it in the first place?

But I am not writing to discuss my health history. Since 1966, Fort Worth has been home to the Texas College of Osteopathic Medicine, a school that has grown from very humble beginnings and an entering class of twenty to a multiple-building campus that now graduates at least a hundred physicians annually (sorry I don’t have accurate statistics). It sends over half its graduates to rural areas where physicians are so badly needed.

For years I heard rumors of applying to grant an M.D. degree, but I discounted them. Now it has come to pass. TCU and the UNT Health Sciences Center (umbrella institution for TCOM) have joined forces to enter their first class of M.D. students this month. Shall we rejoice?

I think not, but that’s just my uneducated perspective. Most new M.D.s, after the residencies required today, specialize; they don’t become the family physicians that osteopathic institutions send to underserved communities. I have heard the justification that the M.D. program was needed to secure research grant money—far as I know, way back even in the days when I worked at TCOM there was an active and respected research program. And the college had become an important community participant; for example, it hosts the coroner’s office and labs.

My neighbor, a new young family practice M.D., tells me now that residency is required of all graduates—only internship was required in my day—there are not enough residency slots for new graduates. The new school will only increase that problem. Perhaps the overall health care problem is to create more post-graduate slots rather than more graduates. Maybe those so anxious for a new medical program didn’t think of that. There were already eight M.D. schools in Texas.

But the big loser to me is that the osteopathic program. I fear it will be diminished and disappear. Increasingly there is less difference between the two philosophies. Younger D.O.s rarely use manipulation, once a hall mark of the profession. Now that is left to chiropractic medicine, which is incidentally an offshoot of osteopathic technique.

I don’t know what to say about why an osteopathic institution would not defend its integrity, and I may be proven wrong. Perhaps the D.O. program will flourish, but I am not wildly hopeful. I would like not to believe that the Health Sciences Center saw this as an opportunity to become one of the “big” or “regular” guys (over half the students are female, by the by) and I would like not to believe that TCU saw it as an opportunity to add the prestige of a medical school. Now that a donor has underwritten the tuition for the entering class for the first year, TCU can use that figure to boost its fund-raising stats.

No, I’m not rejoicing, and I’m looking a bit askance at those who hail this as a great advance. May I be proven totally wrong—it would make me happy—as long as the osteopathic component is preserved. And if it flourishes, I’ll really rejoice.

Every day an adventure

Several years ago I inherited the job of editor of our Berkeley Place Association newsletter, the Poohbah, from a friend and neighbor. It was sort of temporary while Mary, then the editor was on an extensive European trip, but it morphed into permanent, and I’ve been doing it ever since. I don’t mind; in fact, I’m glad to do my bit for the neighborhood because it’s a great place to live.

Along with the job, I inherited the woman who was designing it—a graphic designer, I’m not. We’ve worked together smoothly for several years and developed a nice give-and-take in our working relationship. In fact, she designed my cookbook and did a super job. But I knew nothing about her as a person.

My good friend Subie distributes the Poohbah, and was astounded that I’d never met Amy, the designer. “We must take her to lunch,” she said. And so today, we met Amy for lunch.

I’m not sure what I expected, but I think it was someone older, perhaps a little Bohemian. Amy is a bit younger than my youngest child and looks ten years younger than that. She has a four-year-old child and says she does her best work after he’s asleep. And Bohemian she’s not—she’s a graduate of TCU and would fit right in on that campus today.

We had a delightful lunch, chatted about design work and the Poohbah and probably bored her with too many tales about our families and adventures. We probably won’t meet often, but it’s terrific to have a face and a person to match with the name.

                                                                                          Wednesday morning

Oops. Didn’t finish this last night, because I went to the TCU Scholarship Dinner—a huge and impressive affair honoring scholarship recipients and donors. There are well over 900 scholarships available to TCU students.

The dinner was held in the Ed and Rae Schollmeier Arena, where the usual basketball floor was covered with temporary carpet and filled with beautifully decorated tables. What most impressed me was that TCU knows how to do it with class and precision. Everywhere we turned there was someone to help us—my host, friend and neighbor Mary (she who gifted me the Poohbah), had called ahead to be sure there was a golf cart to take us from parking to the concourse; inside there was someone stationed to show us the elevator, and on the floor level someone  else guided us through halls to the dining area. Same when we reversed, where TCU police gallantly opened doors.

Although I only spoke to a couple of people I knew from my TCU days, I spotted many other familiar faces. As I said to Mary, some of them have aged. Her reply was, “So have we.” There were easily a thousand people there, maybe more.

Fun, briefly, to be back in the academic world, but even when I was there full time I rarely participated in the big, showy events—so it was almost a new adventure for me.

Back to routine today.

Rain and football

Watching the game. Can ou tell my level of interest?

One of those days when you wake up to rain and it never really stops. Demoralizing, depressing. I fear I am tired of telling myself how grateful I am for the rain—the ground is saturated, which of course makes for muddy dogs. I watched one of the Cavaliers slip on the wet deck and nearly go tumbling down the steps. When I went into the main house, I didn’t feel much more sure-footed myself.

We were overdue for a mowing on Friday and of course it rained. The weeds are long enough that I’m worried about snakes getting the dogs. We have weeds because a fungus among us destroyed our grass in the backyard. I am really tired too of looking at the overgrown mix of weeds and surviving grass. Last year we had such a beautiful lush lawn.

Jordan and Christian had friends over to watch the TCU/Texas game, all young people I am really fond of. Young? Ouch—they’re sure approaching middle age. Hard for me to believe. At any rate it was nice to be surrounded by conversation and company, a break from the dreary day, though one girl, a Texas fan, said, “I was going to tell you that you look pretty, but since TCU is winning, I take it back.” At the end of the game, a disaster for TCU and triumph for Texas, as I was leaving, she said, “Okay, you look pretty.”

I always root for TCU, but I am not what you’d call an ardent football fan. I usually don’t watch, partly because I don’t understand. I see a jumble of men pounce on the ball and I hear people of one persuasion or another cheering or holding their breath or booing, but I really have no idea what happened. I told the group I’d brought a book just in case they got boring.

I do worry about my Megan. Although she went to UT for law school, she remains a rabid TCU fan. Her husband is equally rabid about UT, though he too only went there for law school. Theirs is a divided—and vocal—household. And their youngest son, eleven-year-old Ford, is a devoted TCU fan When I said I worried about Megan, Christian pointed out that Ford was the one who would suffer.

More rain tomorrow I suspect. Everyone get out your boots and stay safe and dry.

Us Old Folks

I went to the TCU Retirees Luncheon today. I usually don’t go to these because they interfere with my nap before I get Jacob, but this time I felt the need to get out of the house and the speaker’s subject was one I’m most interested in. So I tagged along with Jeannie Chaffee, who was handing out name tags and door prize tickets and greeting everyone. Jeannie soon put me to work handing out name tags and asking those without tags to please sign a list and make a paste-on tag. I said afterward I’d much rather go to something like that with a job to do than just hang around.

First time I went to the Texas Book Festival without any official duties, I was like a fish out of water, wondering what I was doing there. One reason I don’t go anymore. Today handing out name tags was perfect—let me see and chat with a lot of people I haven’t seen for a while and was genuinely glad to see. Lunch was chicken—what can I say, except that the mashed potatoes (which I don’t need) were buttery and good.

The day’s topic was the new medical school to be co-sponsored by TCU and University of North Texas Health Sciences Center, which already houses the Texas College of Osteopathic Medicine, along with a variety of other educational programs, such as a pharmaceutical school. I admit I don’t come to this topic without some prejudice. I grew up with the osteopathic school (TCOM) and have a thoroughly osteopathic background, so I worry about the new M.D. school diminishing that program. Unlike many others, I don’t see the need for two schools training physicians in this city. But the speaker, from TCU, was convincing, and I bit my tongue to keep from asking questions. But when he talked about the difficulties of starting a medical school, I thought, “Been there, done that.” On a shoestring. I did have a brief chat with him afterward, and he was highly complementary of TCOM.

The medical school is a big gamble for TCU, and it will be interesting to see how it plays out. In a complicated scenario, this will be a private school. UNTHSC tried for an M.D. program, but they are state-funded, and the state would not sanction the program. Hence this collaboration. Sitting back and watching will be fun.

Lasagna for dinner tonight. Jay made it over the weekend, but it just gets better and better. Did a lot more today with my renewed energy and attitude—laundry, dishwasher, garbage (I had help with that). Tonight I’m paying for it with a sore hip joint. Tomorrow is the nerve conduction test, so maybe they’ll decide on a diagnosis and we can go from there. Meantime I’m going to read a book and be lazy the rest of the evening.

Football and a rant

This is going to turn into a political rant, so if you want to move on now, I understand. But first I have to say that I have never seen so much purple in a grocery store as I saw this morning—all young men. One group in purple shirts and khaki pants, another in white, long-sleeved shirts with astounding purple jeans—I pretty quickly decided they were part of a pledge class. And assorted purple shirts throughout the store. I’ve heard that people who like purple are kinder and more intelligent—hope that’s true.

As if I didn’t know, the young man who carried my groceries told me it was the opening home game. I knew—mostly because a friend was taking Jacob. I’m not much of a football fan but I am glad they won 70-7 today. I think it a bit unfair to match Stephen F. Austin against such a powerful rival, but what do I know about football.

Now, with my local family all glued to the Baylor game at their house, I’m quietly at home. There’s something nice about breakfast for dinner, and I just had bacon and poached eggs on cheese toast. Next door, the MSU/LSU game is on a big outdoor screen, so should I want some football all I have to do is turn around and look out the window. My neighbor has a smashing new deck that he built himself, and he sets a huge screen up in the yard. He was cordial about telling me to come over any time, but I’d hardly fit in that crowd—young medical people barely out of their twenties if that. Nice neighbors though. And obviously football season is all around me.

My rant: I am outraged at the conservative policy to defeat Planned Parenthood. Boehner and his cronies know the funding bill, calling for cutting all funding to PP, will not pass the Senate, and should it, the President will veto it, thereby again shutting down the government at great cost to the nation and to many individuals. But then, they figure, the public will think it’s all the Democrats fault. How naïve can they be? Yes, the far right will sing that song but it is so far from the truth that it seems like dirty politics (is there any other kind these days?). All this based on videos which have been proven false. There was a hearing on Capitol Hill to explore Planned Parenthood—but no representatives of the organization were invited or allowed to attend.  The House committee entitled the hearing “Exploring the Horrific Practices of the Nation’s Largest Abortion Provider.” Sure, an unbiased exploration of facts.

Don’t know for sure but I doubt PP is the nation’s largest provider, since abortions are 3% of their mission. It’s called “Don’t tell me about the good they do because my mind is made up, and I don’t want to hear!” We simply cannot let these people determine the future of our country.

See the steam coming out of my ears?

But let me add a positive note: I have tremendous admiration for Bernie Sanders for his refusal to cast aspersions on Hillary Clinton and to voice anything but praise for her. Now that’s politics as it should be.

 

 

Flashlights in bed and divided loyalties

If you were a die-hard reading kid like me and one of my sons, you remember taking a flashlight to bed so you could read under the covers after lights out. Well, technology has changed all that. Last night, after I thought Jacob was safely tucked in bed, I checked and saw this strange glow coming from under the cover. He'd taken his iPad to bed with him. Unfortunately, he was playing games, not reading. I confiscated the iPad, but it brought back fond memories. Jamie may correct me but I think he used to read Dungeons and Dragons books. He had several favorite fantasy, paranormal authors. Me? I was probably reading Nancy Drew. An iPad just isn't as subtle as a flashlight.
We are a family of divided loyalties. I have a degree from TCU and worked there thirty years; while Jordan never attended the school, she grew up in its shadow and often in the midst of its social life. Christian is a proud alum of Baylor. Saturday it all came to a head with the epic clash on the football field between the two schools.
Jacob is caught somewhere in the middle. He's grown up on stories of Baylor, but he's gone to baseball camp at TCU and then by serendipity met and was most impressed by a football player. He's been to most of the games this season at both schools. Last week Jordan announced his hashtag for the weekend was #identity crisis--Friday night she dressed him in a Baylor shirt, a TCU hat, and one glove from each school. Then she posted a picture.
But Saturday, at the game in Waco, they were all green and gold. Jordan has told me, almost apologetically, that she would root for Baylor. Her sister called her a traitor, and I commented that if she'd only worn purple as she should, TCU would have won. It was one of those games people can't stop talking about and, yes, TCU should have won. But with twelve minutes to go (which can be an eternity in a football game), they lost focus and acted as though the game was over. Result, as many of you know: Baylor won by three points.
At this point, eight years old, it's almost a given that Jacob will go to one of the two schools. I suspect in the long run it depends less on his preference but which one gives him the best scholarship. Since he "forgot" to turn in last  week's homework on Friday, that's not looking hopeful in third grade but we're working on it. We can't get him to believe that what he does now will matter by the time he's ready for college.
Wish he'd start taking a flashlight to bed and reading under the covers. I wouldn't confiscate the flashlight, at least not so quickly.

TCU's chanaging campus

Jamie (my second son, third of four children) and his lovely family--Melanie, and their daughters 15-year-old Maddie and 11-year-old Eden, spent the night last night after Jacob's family birthday--a delightful warm affair with lots of laughter and catching up and kids. I goofed (again!)--forgot to turn on the a/c in the guest house and it was hot, so I had them all under my roof. It always somehow  gives me a warm glow to have my kids under my roof, and Sophie was ecstatic. They all loved on her, and I thought she'd sleep with the girls but when I woke up she as on her bed next to mine.
As he usually does Jamie went for a run this morning, through the neighborhoods of his youth--Berkeley, Park Hill, TCU, Westcliff, etc. and came home to report that our city is changing--in a good way. I've been concerned about all the look-alike quadraplexes going up, but his argument was that in most instances they're an improvement over poorly maintained small houses (we'll see in five years). He thinks our part of Fort Worth still has its charm but is looking sharper.
This is not a family that hurries, By the time we got everyone up and dressed, we went to breakfast--breakfast, mind you--at 12:15. At Ol' South--Jamie is also nostalgic about eating about the pleaces of his high school and college years.

Then we drove around the places he'd passed while running. Wish I'd been smart enough to have a camera. Began with a behind the scenes trip through thee TCU Campus--places I'd never seen, didn't know you could drive--I've been off campus four years and the change is amazing. Mel said, "Wow! I'd come back here and go to school again." I said I didn't think you could drive these places, and Jamie, a law unto himself, cheerily said, "I don't think you're supposed to." Made me a little edgy because I'm a rule follower, but it was a fascinating look at the campus, with Jamie and Mel pointing out their dorms, where the main used to be, etc. Not sure how fascinated the girls were.

I'm so used to back roads that when we drove by the new grand front entrance to the library I realized I'd never seen it--and it's apparently been under construction for some time now. Finally, we drove by the chapel where they were married.
I felt like I had my eyes opened. Maybe I need to pay more attention to my surroundings these days. But TCU is in a world of change--I guess it's all for the best but I tend to cling to the past. If you're in Fort Worth and haven't seen TCU for a while, it's worth exploring--but I think you'd have to go on foot for much of it and not Jamie's route which was probably slightly trespassing.

Moving On Up

My oldest son and his wife just moved their family into a new/old house northwest of Houston, with 2.5 acres, a stock tank, a riding arena, and a two-stall barn. No, they don't have horses (yet)--the children are a little young at seven and nine. But they love the quiet, the peace, the view. Their seven-year-old snapped this picture of them because they look so happy, and I agree--they never looked happier. I am so delighted for them.
Lisa told Morgan, nine, she needed cowgirl boots, and she retorted, "Out here I can go barefoot."
I am proud that they've been able to provide this for themselves and the children. Can't wait to visit. Jacob says he's moving down there, but I said, no, I was. Then he said, "Me and Juju, we're moving in with Uncle Colin. Actually do hope to visit soon. Lisa posted a picture of where she had her morning coffee Sunday--looking out over the stock tank which looks like a small lake. It reminded me of the view from the porch where we visited dear friends when the children were little. This is a view she sent today. These kids have moved around a lot--from two places in the Caribbean to several homes in the Houston area and one in Colorado. I predict they've found their forever home.
Meanwhile back on the home front, Jacob went to his first day of baseball camp at TCU today, hit a ball over the fence, and enthusiastically described the entire day as a success. He met the TCU player who hit the winning run in last night's close game--but didn't ask for an autograph. I suspect he'll build up to that during the week. Tonight was neighbors' night at the Old Neighborhood Grill, with seven adults and Jacob who manages to dominate the conversation. I do have to say the adults egg him on. But we all had a jolly time with wide-ranging discussions.
Life is good.