My Iron Men

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My two sons did a half Ironman race in Waco yesterday. That’s Colin, the oldest on the left, and Jamie, my third child on the right. They were cheered on by their families, and I was a bit sad I couldn’t be there for the family fun. But I well know race days are long days.

I think mothers always worry about their kids, no matter the age—and I won’t tell you how old Colin and Jamie are because it makes me sound so old. These two will tell you their mother always worries for sure for no reason. But sometimes you hear of people collapsing during a race. One of my boys has a pre-existing condition which always makes me worry a bit more, though he brushes it off.

A half Ironman consists of a 1.2-mile swim, a 56-mile bike ride, and a 13.1-mile run, for a total of 70.3 miles. What I’m glad I didn’t think of until they told me last night was the effect of all the rain and flooding in Central Texas. They cancelled the swim because of swift current and debris in the water. Colin was bummed because the swim is his best event, the bike ride his hardest. Do you suppose they were actually going to swim in the Brazos?

I think they look pretty darn good for just having done what they did. Jamie texted me after the race, and Colin called on his way home to Tomball.

Once years ago they entered a half Ironman in Austin, along with Megan’s husband, Brandon. They got up at some ungodly hour, checked in with their bikes. It commenced to rain and rain and rain—and it was cold. Jordan and I were staying at the Holiday Inn right on Town Lake, and we kept worrying about that nasty, dirty, greenish-gray water. Fortunately, the entire race was cancelled; everyone went back to bed and met later for brunch.

I’ve always known I was blest—and the pictures from the race brought it home again—by four kids and their families who genuinely love each other and can’t wait to be together again. They usually include me in the fun. I’ve known too many families where there are estrangements, and I think it’s the saddest thing in the world.

I have, like most of us, had friends drop out of my life, and I often quote Ann Lamott, who wrote that when people disappear from your life it means their part in your story is over. I can, with regret, accept that with friends, but never with family. I want to hold them close all the time.

Half the family

After the race,  presume

Holding my breath

Like much of the country, I’m holding my breath and praying for the people of Florida and the southeastern part of our country. Who knows what direction Irma will finally take? The maps with a hundred lines leave one confused, but the Caribbean took a hit and probably the Keys too. I think of the woman who curates the Hemingway house on Key West and stayed behind with all those cats. Last word was it undoubtedly was damaged. I know tomorrow I’ll keep the TV on, sometimes muted, to keep up with reports.

Such scary times, for those of us with the wits to be scared—fire and flood, storms and inevitable pestilence. The wildfires in our northwest have been overlooked, overshadowed by the hurricanes. But they too deliver unbelievable destruction. People lose their homes. I read today that authorities are recommending people bring their pets in at night and leave buckets of water for wild animals fleeing the fires They will be scared, hungry and thirsty.

An earthquake in Mexico, accompanied almost simultaneously by hurricane Katia. So much tragedy, so much loss of life and property. And, always, I worry about the animals, both domesticated and wild. Scary is way too mild a word for the western hemisphere these days. If you don’t believe in climate change, please go immediately to buy property in Key West.

Back in Texas, life is almost normal, though we can’t forget that many, too many people have lost their homes or are still unable to go back to them. Floodwaters of that magnitude recede slowly, leaving overwhelming destruction, and it will be a long time before Houston and the surrounding towns dry out. A friend wrote that family was going through the detritus of her home, searching for memorabilia, before the bulldozers struck—somehow the bulldozers stuck in my mind. I hadn’t thought of that.

Pray for our country, our hemisphere. Pray for the world. I sometimes feel that we in America have sent off a negative chain reaction. In truth, we are in part the architects of our own doom. We have ignored flood plains and drainage studies in our wild push to build—more business complexes, more housing developments, more shopping malls--the earth will adjust. No, it won’t. The earth doesn’t need concrete covering such large portions of its surfaces. It needs to breath. And now we have a president who willy-nilly tears down the protections for our earth, allowing pollution of our rivers and streams, rolling back building codes designed to erect structures resistant to destruction, ignoring EPA warnings and disbanding that unit of government, showing no respect for the earth that nurtures us. We cannot build pipelines across sacred native lands, and we cannot defile wetlands by drilling for oil. We must learn to respect the earth. Pray that it is not too late. Harvey, Irma, Jake, Katia—all are a wake-up call, albeit it a late and disastrous one. Who is listening?

The dentist, flood news, and good friends

KIds, big and little, are finding some joy in the midst of

closed schools and offices and even flood waters

Not my best day. Two hours at the dentist this morning. No gory details, but one tiny filling that I thought was no big deal took an hour and while not painful was hard on my nerves. Second hour was deep cleaning, and not as bad. As I suspected though, they didn’t get it all done, and I have to go back to have the left side of my mouth cleaned. Should be much easier. As a survivor of dentistry in the ‘40s, when I was young and had lots of cavities and techniques and the drill were pretty old-fashioned, I am a dental phobic. I thought I was pretty calm about hip surgery, but this morning I felt like my heart was going to pound right out of my chest.

Pretty day here, pleasant temperatures, but still humid. When I walked with Teddy, I was breathless. Teddy, always encouraging, said you can’t expect to be at your best after a long dental appointment. It saps your energy.

Not much work done today—again! After the dentist, I needed a nap; then walking. Then Subie and Phil came for happy hour. Sophie was so demanding that we locked her outside; of course, Phil's seeing-eye dog wanted to go too, but both dogs stood at the door, looking pitiful in exile.

Pitiful exiled dogs

When Subie and Phil left; they crossed paths with Mary Dulle who came for the second shift happy hour. She’s been gone much of the summer, so it was good to visit with her. I can’t complain about nobody visiting me in the cottage!

Still watching flood news with one eye. A family Colin and Lisa are close to was finally able to leave their house today and is safe. Various rumors about evacuations in Sugar Land, where Lisa’s parents are. Missed the news tonight, due to extreme sociability, so I’m not sure if it’s raining or not. Last I heard rain was heavy but moving slightly eastward.

It would be easy to sigh and think it’s over, the storm is moving on. But of course that’s foolish thinking. The storm will not be gone for those affected for months, years. I finally decided where to make my first donations—made modest contribution to the food bank here in North Texas, because Fort Worth is going to get a lot of evacuees, and sent a second donation to the animal shelter in Conroe, where my kids got their dog. I figure they were boots on the ground. The news is confusing—some posts list goods that are needed; others say, don’t send goods, send money. I think this weekend we’ll try to get together a care package. Christian’s office is collecting items needed at local shelters.

Sleep tight, stay dry and safe, and pray for those being evacuated, those still stranded, those whose lives have been shattered.

A rainy launch day

Today is the official launch day for The Gilded Cage, but as so often with such things it feels a bit anti-climactic because I’ve been talking about the book so much. Still it’s been a good day—Amazon helped me boost it. One of my friends got an email from them announcing publication, so I gather others did too. Then they asked if I wanted to promote it to my Amazon friends and I of course said yes. So I presume they sent out another announcement with a blurb.

No launch party today. It will be April 29—Fort Worth folks, mark your calendars (and please note some of you may have gotten an earlier mistaken date—it’s Friday, not Thursday). Five to seven p.m. at The Wine Haus, 1628 Park Place Avenue, Fort Worth, 76110. You’re on your own for wine but I will provide snacks. Let’s party! I’ll for sure be reminding folks again. I’ve already heard from several who say they’ll be there and some who have ordered the book because they can’t come. It’s on Amazon—but do come party. I’d love to see you.

Today I’m worried about my kids and grandkids in Tomball, about 40 miles northwest of Houston. The picture above is a composite of their property looks like—lake high, half-finished swimming pool full of rain water. The last picture is what happened when my grandson put buttermilk on his cereal. Makes me laugh. They tell me they are okay, all stayed home today including my workaholic son. Only problem is a roof leak which he optimistically says is no big deal. Houston has been declared a disaster—much worse there than in Tomball, and even Austin had a two-hour school delay.

Rain is gone for now here but apparently coming back. We had lots of thunder in the night, so I had a dog curled up on my bed. Now it’s just gray and dreary. My day was brightened by lunch with my good friend Melinda—felt like a happy camper after food, wine, and sociability, and came home and unpacked three more boxes of books. Goal for today is five. Many of those I found today were beyond hope.

Miles to go before I sleep. Must unpack two more boxes of books, do my yoga, and write 500 words on the new wip. So I’m signing off.

 

Another new experience

Two boys and a dog

Way back when my children were young, they had sleepovers. I have a couple of friends who usually spend the night if they’re in town, and we jokingly refer to sleepovers. But tonight is a whole new experience—Jacob is hosting his first sleepover at my house—I knew the day would come when he’d want a buddy to spend the night. Jacob spent the afternoon with Max, a friend whose grandparents live down the street.

When the boys were in the first grades of school, Max and his grandfather often stopped on the way home in the afternoon. The boys would play, and Don and I would sit on the porch and solve the problems of the world. We pretty much have similar philosophies, so I came to value those visits, and I miss them today. Don also took the boys on various adventures, and Jacob loved to play at their house because they have a pool and a big dog.

This year Max transferred to a private school, and they never see each other. So today was a highlight—Max’s father took them to The Main Event and fed them pizza (I’m biding my time before offering ice cream). They have promised to be quiet (they are eerily quiet right now) and to go to sleep without a lot of giggling and laughing. We’ll return Max to his grandparents in the morning in time for us to go to church.

Ask me in the morning.

Otherwise it’s been a cold, wet day. I took a nap and dreamt that I had to go pick Jacob up and then go someplace way out on the west side of town and was dreading getting out of my warm bed to do that. No idea where I thought I was going. Had tentative dinner plans tonight but everyone decided it was too yucky to venture out—which was my decision before they even told me that.

We’ve had so much rain that rivers are out of their banks and some lakes are closed to boating. November has been the wettest on record—more due tonight. A good night to hunker down with a book, a fire, and two little boys. More of my blessed life.

Oops. There's a PS to the sleepover story. Jordan called to talk to Jacob, and he told her someone drove in our driveway, parked, slammed the car door, walked down the driveway, looked in the back window, saw the boys and left. Jordan called Jay who never answers his land line; I called his cell, and he came over, said nobody has driven down the driveway in 24 hours. Conclusion: the neighbor came home, and Jacob has a vigorous imagination. Jordan is still nervous, but I have locked up, will set the alarm and am quite sure we're safe. Christian says little boys imagine all kinds of things, and I think he's right. Added a bit of spice to the night though.

In the news...

The news is interesting lately. A Seattle couple left their entire estate--$847,237+ to the U.S. Government in gratitude for the opportunity of living in this country. Both were immigrants--he from Nazi Germany, she from Ireland--and had no family at all. Many of us, myself included, spend so much time moaning about what's wrong with this country--tax cuts for the rich, cuts on all kinds of aid to the poor, silly laws about food stamps and groceries, guns all around us--that maybe we should stop and take a break to think how lucky we are to live in this country. Most of us have food and shelter, we're safe, and as a friend reminded me today, some people would kill for a chance to come to this country. I for one am going to work on gratitude while continuing to fight to make our country the best it can be for all citizens. There is a discouraging note: some economist or such authority noted that at the rate the U.S. spends money, that legacy will be spent in 31 seconds. But it's the gesture that matters.
In new from France grocers are now by law not allowed to discard outdated food--they must either donate it to feed the poor or to be made into animal food. This was on Facebook, and most comments were enthusiastic. I was a bit dismayed by one that said it made so much sense it will never happen in America. That's the attitude I'm talking about above. I do actually know a man who buys industrial waste for conversion into animal food. It's a small step but a start.
And in news that I find really important, Nebraska lawmakers have voted to ban the death penalty, on the grounds that no one has the right to take another life. Maybe we're moving toward being more humane.
The Maldives is (are?) being taken over--by the ocean. The tiny group of islands in the Indian Ocean may be the first country to disappear into the ocean. It has 200 inhabited islands, and tourism is the biggest business--it's lush and tropical. I saw nothing linking this to global warming or climate change, but one can't help but wonder.
Meanwhile, we in North Texas share their concern. We're being taken over by storms, torrential rains, and floods. Major highways are under water, some lakes are above their capacity, river are overflowing. In central Texas, hit particularly hard, a family of four disappeared when the house they were staying in was swept away by water; the father was found and is intensive care. The mother and two young children have not been found. Others in that some town had to be rescued by boat. Be careful out there folks--and don't drive into water. It amazes me how many people you see being rescued from low-water crossings and flooded intersections, in spite of all the warnings. Sometimes people who try to beat low-water crossings aren't lucky enough to be rescued.
Jokes abound--I saw a picture of an ark, and there are lots of pleas for whoever is praying for rain to please stop. Of course, by August, we'll wish we had it. Meantime, we wish there was a way to send it to California.