Pink Flamigo

One last post for May. TC has a tourist attraction on the dike. Named Pinkie, this pink flamigo arrived around May 15 from the Yucatan. Hundreds of people from all over the US are coming to view it. An area on the north side of the dike is taped off and binoculars are set up for viewing and a book is layed out for visitors to sign. Nathan and Kat waded out on the island and took some pictures of it. It is SO cute. Nothing bothers it. It remains in this same spot regardless of the fishermen and pelicans. Barry and I have made three trips to see it so far.

We had a BBQ yesterday. My friend Taunie came. We took her out to see the pink flamigo. She enjoyed visiting with others viewing the bird. The children enjoyed looking through the binoculars.

Our renters, Charles and Dana, are moving out in 30 days. They say the neighborhood is "uncomfortable." A cop on one side and a gang on the other... I don't blame them. We need to make a decision as to whether or not to sell it or rent it again.

Later....

Bon Fire

Last night, on the end of the T.C. dike, the VFW put on a spectacular bon fire. Barry and I enjoyed being a part of it. We each burned a flag in memory of my dad and his uncle who were both in WWII. There were over one thousand flags burned. After they were all ceremonially put into the fire, two huge flags were draped around the base of the 20 foot high pile of pallets and set afire. The heat from the fire caused the crowd to back up many times. It lit up the night sky as if it were day. A wall of sandbags held six military flags, one of which was the POW MIA flag that flew over the fire pit where the flags were burned. Ronnie, Judy, and the kids joined us. We all sat on a log together until the heat forced us to back up. I stood behind Barry and Tiffany stood behind me to escape the heat. The crowd consisted of mixed ages and races. Lots of children running wild, and old people stumpling around the uneven ground. Music was remenicent of war. "I gave my purple heart to a prostitute," right along side, "By and By Lord." Wind continuously wiped our hair into our faces so that we left after the 20 foot pile of pallets was reduced to approximately 10 to 15 feet.

Nathan and Kat came home later on and rode out there to see it, and over an hour later the fire was still burning brightly.

Nathan Arrested AGAIN

Well, here it is Memorial weekend. I was just commenting, with a smile, to Barry how yesterday and today were perfect days; and just as I finished saying that, I immediately imagined Tiff and Josh drowning in a rip tide in Galveston. Not that that would top off my day, but it's like as soon as I acknowledge something as being good, something bad has to happen. I was happy to learn that Ronnie and the kids made it back safe from Galveston and that they were all coming over to cook baked beans at our house. Later, we were all enjoying eating together, listening to the blues, laughing about this and that when the phone rang. It was Kat. Nathan was arrested. He and Bobby went mudding and got pulled over on their way home for no inspection sticker. Of course Nathan had a warrant out for his arrest for non-payment of an old ticket that he forgot all about. I was looking forward to him being at the Bar-B-Que tomorrow. I asked if anyone had $300 cash to get him out. No. An hour goes by. I'm down; the phone rings again. It's him. Mother/Son conversation: How could you let this happen AGAIN! I don't remember getting that ticket! I'm sorry. I'm sad. Will you call Bobby and ask him to bail me out, and tell him I'll pay him back next friday? O.K.

Dimming Lights, Fat Attorney, Burned House, Funny Old Woman

Yesterday I called an electrician, Master Electric, to check on our electrical system. He rewired the breaker box which stopped the dimming, but he pointed out that the breaker to the new washer/dryer was not a breaker at all, it was only a switch. He suggested we call them and demand that they replace it immediately without charge. We did, and they did. Within an hour after the call was made, the problem was fixed. It was sparking each time the dryer was turned on. Barry and I got nervous about a possible fire. Not only would we lose the house, but we might even lose our lives. We feel better now, although the house is still not insured. We are waiting to hear from Ricky before we can get things moving.
Barry and I went to visit a realestate lawyer on 6th and 6th in Texas City. His office smelled like mold and was furnished with old furniture. There was a hole in the wall where one of the attorneys lost his temper and kicked it. He was a big guy by the name of Placamire (sp?). I liked his demeanor. I hope Rick consents to using him to create the needed forms and deeds so that Ronnie can finally own his home and Barry and I can the process moving so that we can own this house.
A neighbors house on 11th avenue caught on fire last week and went up in flames fast. A toaster was the culpret. It was sad seeing an old historic house destroyed.
I've been noticing an old woman routinely walking around the block lately. I had a suspicion that it was Ida Morton Ross, the insurance lady whose husband used to be partners with my Aunt Pearl McGar. So, last night as she walked by, I ran out to greet her. I was right. It is Ida Morton Ross, also the grandmother to two of my childhood girlfriends, Meade and Carol Ann Rinker. It was in their house where I first ate a honey bun. I had never eaten anything so wonderful. It was also at their house where I first witnessed a hot sandwich being made in a contraption that smashed it and cut off the crust and heated it over the stove. Anyway, Ida Ross is a delightful woman. She made us laugh a few times with her limricks and stories of the past and present. We said our goodbyes and watched her walk on down the street assisted by two walking canes, "If you don't use it, you lose it." She told me my friend Meade is living in San Antonio working as a property manager along with her husband, and Carol Ann lives in South Houston working at an animal boarding business. Sadly, her 19 year old daughter just committed suicide.
I have a finance final at 1:00, so I better go study.....

Evita

The new Argentina, the voice of the people...to a strip tease beat... pretty good. I can see why Madonna wanted to do the part. I haven't seen the movie, but I'm currently listening to the music of Evita. Along with Evita, I'm listening to Phantom of the Opera, and Jesus Christ Superstar. I think I'm beginning to feel pumped. Maybe it's the coffee, but singing at the top of my lungs out the back door, words of wisdom, is pumping. The neighbors are getting an education. My friend gave me three CD's featuring Andrew Lloyd Weber's work. Barry is miserable.

Last night we watched two independent film makers' films. They were both very good. One made me re-think what the purpose of life is, is life an end in itself or a means to an end? I wonder sometimes if it is an end in itself. The other one was depressing. It was about "The Weather Men," underground radical progressives in the late 60's and 70's who set off bombs in reponse to U.S. actions such as war in Vietnam and the killing of Black Panther members. It was over at midnight and I couldn't go to sleep right away. I felt doom and gloom, and I still do. Maybe it's because I just turned off the music and I'm now listening to the BBC news. Gloomy.... hundreds of machette welding teenagers in southern Thailand gunned down by the government. I'm going to listen to this.

FriedaBiscus

The Hybiscus is blooming beautiful bright orange flowers today. It brings me such joy to look out the window and see them and also to drive into the driveway and see them from the street. I will always think of Mother when I look at that bush for three reasons. One, when she was temporarily in Gulf Care Nursing Home one year ago, we were visiting outside near a hybiscus, and we couldn't remember the name of the bush. We finally remembered and proceeded to come up with a way to always remember...We pretended to be greeting the bush by saying, "HI Biscus!" Two, we were waiting outside of the radiation therapy room at MD Anderson when a volunteer offered Mom a free bag to hold her "stuff" in. Mom carefully examined all of the bags and picked the brightest orange one because of its durability. Three, she loved beauty and color. I miss her so much. The bush was given to the family at the time of her death by my friends at NOVA Chemical. I named it FriedaBiscus.

The Place Where They Grow Wine

Tonight Ronnie's family and Barry and I went to the "winery" in Santa Fe. I taste tested four wines and bought one $4.00 glass of white sweet wine. Everyone sipped a bit and made faces. We listened to a speaker from Johnson Space Center, then we took the tour. Afterwards, we joined the Star Party and looked at Jupiter, Saturn, and the Orion Nebula before they were covered by clouds. Tiffany, Josh and I walked through the vineyard and Tiff pointed out the little bitty grapes to me. I couldn't find them on my own . . . . . . just kill me now.

Phi Kappa Phi

Friday night, after first arriving at the wrong country club, then through panic stickened turns of right and left accompanied by explitives sounding out why would an honor student leave the address and directions at home, we found the correct country club where Barry and I attended the induction ceremony of the Phi Kappa Phi Honor Society. We dined amoung many well-educated and interesting people. I felt like a fish out of water with chipped teeth and straight bodyless hair. A delicious meal of chicken, lasagna, fresh vegtables, rolls, salad, carrot cake and coffee was served buffet style. In trying to keep the conversation flowing, I asked the people at our table if they had ever visited the place in Santa Fe where they grow wine. Some honor student, huh? An inspiring speech was given by Shelly (used to be Rodriquez (her deceased husband was a news personality), but I've forgotten her new last name, and I absent-mindedly left my program there upon leaving). I was presented with a large white envelope upon having my name read aloud, walking a mile to the president, and shaking his hand. There were many others being honored as well. We all felt very honored, go figure. In the envelope was my certificate and my honor cord to be worn over my graduation gown. On the drive home, Barry and I enjoyed discussing Shelly's speech and marveled at her speaking abilities and all the things she is accomplishing as a newly elected Houston City Council member as well as a medical doctor. Needless to say, I didn't feel like I belonged. I don't belong anywhere.

Henry Elmore Peters, My Grandpa

Barry and I went to the memorial service on April 16 in memory of the Texas City Explosion that happened fifty-seven years ago in 1947. Over 600 people died that day including the entire fire department. As a memorial to the firefighters, Chief Gerald Grimm of the Texas City Fire Department read each of their names followed by the ringing of a bell. The speaker was Mrs. Ernestine Moreno, a survivor. After listening to her sad story, I wondered if she had known my grandfather whom I never had the privledge of meeting. He used to preach at the Spanish Mission near her home. So when the ceremony was over, I asked her if she knew him. She immediately smiled and began telling me how much she adored him. He taught her spanish in high school. She said he spoke beautiful spanish. He asked her why she was not taking notes and she told him because he was blocking the words with his body. So he started writing with his other hand so she could see the board. When she finished talking about him, she gave me a big unexpected hug and reiterated how much my grandpa meant to her. I wanted to grab all the other old people there and ask them all if they remembered Grandpa Peters. When I got home, I looked at myself in the upstairs mirror and noticed I was wearing Mom's shirt. I wanted to tell her all about my experience at the memorial service, and how I found yet another person who loved her father. I began to weep at the realization of my loss.

Personality Fault

Poor self esteem. I do not feel comfortable "selling" myself to potential employers. I have very negative feelings towards this game. Whoever sells the best, wins the prize. In my unhealthy thought processes, it will most likely not be the best canidate who wins. I believe the best candidate is sometimes the worst "seller" of himself and vice versa. I now understand why my father, with an above average IQ, was a truck driver. I suppose whatever was wrong with him was instilled in me, not that I am of above IQ, but truck driving sounds appealing to me. Big Sigh.......

The Hot Biscuit, Rep. Nick Lampson, and Wal-Mart

All in one day. Looking like crap, no make-up, hair in pony-tail, holely blue jean shorts, tacky green t-shirt, white, white legs, and dirty tennis shoes with no socks, who do I see and talk with at the Hot Biscuit? Representative Nick Lampson! There he was looking all shiny and sparkely in his pressed dockers and dress shirt. I thought he was someone from Huntsman Chemical, but Barry recognized him for who he was and reminded him of our time together at a Habitat for Humanity appreciation dinner. I took what I thought to be not much of a chance of running into someone I know since we are in the country; I knew I'd fit in with all the other country bumkins around here, and I did, except for him. Who would of figured? Anyway, it nice to see him and his smile. And thanks to Barry's old business flare of smiling and shaking hands we rekindled a memory.

After eating a wonderful breakfast, we drove by where the Wal-Mart Protestors were picketing to cheer them on. They gave us an informational hand-out regarding the outsourcing of jobs. One of the signs read, "Sam Walton said No to China." We wished them well and drove off in our "Toyota."

On the Road Again...

Here I am in the country again. It always feels so good to travel here and to be here, even though it smells like mold. B is sleeping in his recliner, Sammy is eating, and Rue is sleeping under the house. I don't know where or what the cat is doing, sneaky thang. Oh, I just heard Sammy's little feet getting scatch on the kitchen floor, the cat is in the kitchen. :) We ate What-a-bugers on the way here, and they were SO good. It is always hit and miss with them. We saw some new skid marks on the dangerous road to our place as well as some new ruts on the side of the road. We ran off a few times ourselves while we were trying to eat, drink, and drive.

We are thinking about going to Louisiana for Put's crawfish boil instead of having one of our own. I hope my boys come...

We received some distressing news on our answering machine when we got here. B's brother-in-law's brother commited suicide. The message was old. We believe it must have happen on Monday or before. No one called us at the Texas City number. No one is home at there place today.

Fishsticks, My Legacy

Low and behold my little nephew, Duncan, asked me is I gave up fishsticks for lent. I laughed so hard. I had no idea that my love for fishsticks was that well known. It was bad enough when Bekah, Jacob, and Nathan enjoyed a shared moment of laughter over my feeding them fishsticks as children, but Duncan? I'm not even Catholic, and neither is he. That's the kind of thing, right out of the blue, that life is all about. The next day Barry brought home a box of cheap fishsticks and we went to town on em.

Yesterday a gloomy feeling came over me after class. My teacher handed me my mid-term exam and said I did nauseatingly well as usual. ummm. Why don't I feel like "A" material?" My friend was in a yucky mood and left before I got my test back (we usually walk to our cars together). We had just seen the movie, "House of the Spirits," in which were some abuse scenes that made her very uncomfortable. On my drive home I began wondering why I felt gloomy. Other than feeling unworthy of "A" status, I suppose it had something to do with wondering about my strange friend's mysterious past. I gather from her words and actions that she must have been abused in her past. I wonder what it would be like to have a normal friend. I don't mind abby normal friends, but just wondering. I'm sure my friends wonder the same.

I am now a member of Phi Kappa Phi. I never thought I would be a member of an honor society. It's too bad that my degree is not marketable. I am looking forward to reentering the working world, but I am a bit nervous. Not only because I am 40 something, but because I have lost my marketable skills. I feel stupid now that I have a BA in Humanities, but can't operate the current software programs used by businesses. I feel like I need to go back to school! Isn't that ironic; don't cha think; it's like raeeeain on your wedding day; it's like finding ten thousand spoons, when all you need is a knife (Alanis).

An Active Volcano

bp Amoco exploded last night. Wow was it exciting! Ronnie called and said, "Turn on channel 16, Dow Chemical just blew up!" He was driving by when it happened. Then seconds later the emergency sirens sounded for a long time and REAL loud. Channel sixteen said to shelter in place and wait for further instructions. Friends began calling to check on us when they saw the big fire on the news. Helicopters were flying overhead. I wasn't concerned, but excited. Then last night I dreamed we were considering buying a house in a European country right next to an active volcano. While we were looking at it, chunks of partially cooled lava were flying at us and hitting the house. We were dodging them as they were flying everywhere. I yelled, "I don't want to buy a house by an active volcano!" Go figure, all this happened on the day that I resolved to buy this house, again.

Barry replanted the "FriedaBiscus" the other day. I am so happy about that. It is such a beautiful bush. It was given to us by Maureen and Toni from Nova Chemicals when Mother died. It blooms beautiful orange blossoms. I know without a doubt that Mother would have been so pleased with it.

Mrs. Parnell, my ederly neighbor across the alley, just pulled in her driveway. She looks just like Mom from a distance, with her thin, stringy hair, and her body movements. She is swaying back and forth as she walks to her back door. Her daughter was in the same hospital as Mom at the same time, and she, too, died. But she was only in her early 40's. I visited with her one day. She was full of life that day as she was receiving her first dose of chemo.

The weather has been absolutely gorgeous the past few days. Barry, Judy, and I participated in "Trash Bash" day by picking up trash on the TC Dike. It was fun being with people and getting sunburned.

Well, I will now get back to reading about the Caribbean...

amores perros

"Love's a Bitch" Went to see this movie last night for a school assignment. Enjoyed it. Reminded me of a Mexican Pulp Fiction, but better and more real. Very violent, but tolerable (for me anyway). My friend left after the first five minutes, I'm so glad we came in separate cars. And it was nice that my husband went with me. I think he liked it, too. Never a boring moment in this film. All the characters did a great job of acting, and it was a bonus not knowing them as super stars. It consisted of three separate storys that come together in a car crash. Each story represents the struggle of love within different age and socio-economic groups. Young, middle-aged, and senior, rich and poor all struggle with love. As one commentator put it, "thoughout it, so well crafted, one can mentally fuse all three stories together and see one single character going through the process of fighting for love, realizing what a trivial pursuit it is, abandoning it, and then spending the rest of his life trying to touch it from behind the bars of self-guilt." If you don't have a problem with watching reality through subtitles, this is a must see, and the music was good, too.

An African Lunch

I'm looking forward to having lunch with an 80 something year old African woman friend of mine, Beatrice. I will be interviewing her for a human geography project. She is from Ghana and lived there most of her life. I am going to pick her up at 11:00 and take her to her doctor's appointment and then to Luby's in Galveston. She usually relies on public transportation. I saw her sitting in front of Walgreens one time waiting on her ride. Hours later I saw her still waiting... that's why I offered to take her to her doctor's appointment. She is a joy; always has a smile on.

I made the decision to buy this frickin house yesterday and last night Barry and I both got headaches. I had trouble breathing and so did my dog, Sammy. I thought it might be the chemicals, the newspaper ink, or perhaps the stress of the decision. But what about Sammy? Maybe he can feel our stress. :) The news reported that we are under a terror alert. In my dreams last night, two people told me to move to Eagle Mountain. ? Now I'm confused AGAIN. Reading in my dad's journal last night, I learned of a friend of his that died of lung cancer. Probably gained from these chemical plants.

Barry and I went to city hall yesterday and spoke with Doug Hoover, the economic planner. His sister is the mother of Lee Hancock, local boy who made it big in Hollywood. He wrote a story that Kevin Cosner stared in and Clint Eastwood directed (A Different World??), and now he has directed the movie, "The Alamo." We were curious about the upcoming MegaPort in TC and Doug answered a lot of our questions. It will be five years before we see any containers along the dike. Then the mayor's secretary inundated us with gifts from the city: a neat cooler, history book, an invitation to a dinner party, pamphlets, etc. She wants us to move here. We will try to make the next commissioners meeting in early April. Dad would be proud. In his journal he notes that he and his family were not contributing to the city and that they needed to cultivate a social life outside of the family. It felt good intermingling with city personnel. We also went to the administration building where our family stayed during hurricane Carla, 1963, so Barry could pick up a listing of tax delinquent repo properties.

Ronnie dropped by last night inbetween runs to give us the local newspaper. It was full of the terror alert information, and Doug Hoover was on the front page. I bet he thought that's why we were in his office, and we didn't even know about it. He wasn't a very hospitable person.

Well, off to blow dry my stringy hair and prepare for my date.

The Passion

Well, Marilyn Manson sure did a good job as Satan, and Steven King as teleplaywriter. Just kidding. Overall, I feel as Andy Rooney did, I'm glad it was only two dollars in stead of $9 where he lives. It was worth $2 to be able to discuss it with friends. I couldn't help thinking of Marilyn Manson everytime Satan appeared, and the black crow picking the eye of the criminal on the cross was definently Stephen King style. I yelled, "Shit!" when a monster jumped out of a bush at Judas! Who would of figured? Stephen King? Jesus could not have lived through that beating in my opinion much less carried that big cross up hill. Simon had a hard time carrying that cross as a healthy man. And why doesn't Jesus answer anyone when they ask him questions? He just stands there silent. Good Grief. I guess that is where Bro. Lee gets it. Showing Mary's heart breaking was the most moving part for me - when she saw Jesus falling down with the cross, enter a flashback of 3-year-old Jesus falling down and his mother running to his aid--then again in real time. I also appreciate Mel protraying Jesus with a sense of humor by showing him splashing water on his mother during a happier time. They could have paid more attention to Jesus' right eye that would be swollen in one scene and not in the next. Mary Magdelin was a beautiful ho. I didn't care for the ending. I wonder where all Jesus' other scars from that horrific beating went, and why only the feet and hands remain scared? I hear from my cousin in Jordan that this film is playing at the Mecca Mall in Saudi Arabia! Is that ironic or not?

It's Tight Like Dat

Listening to blues from the 20's... Viva la bomba....Rue is rolling on her back in the grass. Day after tomorrow is the first day of spring and my brother's birthday. I will make a cake and present a presant, and then we will all go to the dike for a day of fun in the sun. Been studying Latin American history, so I am drinking a Corona. Still don't know my place in the world, but the more I drink the more I don't care. Not really. I care. Old music is so much better than new music. Mother visited me in my dream last night and asked me if I had been drinking. I said, "yes." Then I saw my two sons at ages 2 and 3 popping tops and taking swiggs of beer. Well, back to analyzing the conditions that tend to benefit workers and those that disadvantage them... My beer tastes like a rustry top.

Daddy's Journal/A Place in the World

Read some of Dad's jounrnal last night dated 1981. He makes nice comments about my new-born son. It became apparent to me that he worked very hard to keep us fed. Waking up in the middle of the night, early in the morning, late at night, in all types of weather, including freezing cold weather, with failing vision and aching body, he would deliver much needed parts to the area chemical plants. He made reference to wishing we didn't have to eat. He also mentioned that all his friends were dead. I dreamed about him last night. He was a little bit off (in my dream), like the baby squirrel my husband and I found the other day who had fallen out of the tree. In my dream, Dad and two other old men were belly crawling on the side of a road. Dad was using a medium size knife to help pull himself along. When he did walk, he walked like Frank Hill's dad on King of the Hill. I thought he was my dad, but I wasn't sure.

I am in the process of writing a paper anazlying the tensions in a movie entitled, "A Place in the World." I am doing a lot of thinking about where MY place is in the world. I am afraid it is right here. But if I am afraid, then how can it be my place? I wonder if I have a place in this world. I believe this wonder is deeper than place. If what my husband says is true, that everyone gets on my nerves, I could make anyplace my place. But that leads me to think, hey, some people get on my nerves More than others, and I'd rather live by the ones who get on my nerves less. But this is not what place means. I've gotten off the path of place. In the movie, when you can't leave a place, it's your place. (When you don't want to leave, not when you are forced to stay) I am tormented with the prospect of leaving and staying. Like the song says, "should I stay or should I go now?" I can't remember feeling this torn and undecided about anything else. In the movie, Mario stays in a poor valley, oppressed by the man, because it is his place, but he sends his wife and child back to the big city for their sakes and they go. I guess it wasn't their place. But the boy comes back! so, maybe it was his place afterall. But I can't remember if he stayed or if he just wanted to visit his father's grave. We saw this movie in January and now the teacher expects us to write a paper on it NOW. I guess she gets on my nerves too.

Condo Blues

I hated 'em, he loved 'em.
He said, "I don't know anyone who doesn't get on your nerves."
He's right.