Fruition

Fruition:

fru·i·tion (noun)

fru-i-tion ( froo ish’n)

1.   Completion
2.     Enjoyment of intended outcome
3.     Plant’s fruit production

Fruition.  It’s a funny word.  To me it sounds like a kind of sports energy drink. 

It’s meaning, however, is all too clear…

If you’ve finished a project, completed a race, conquered a foe in battle, or simply written and posted things on your blog in some semblance of the way you have intended, then you have “Fruition.” 

Sadly, the latter is a chore I have failed to “bring to fruition” for one day shy of a month. 

Let me start by saying that I’m not writing this as anything like an excuse for my lack of posting, but rather as a kick in the pants for myself.  It's an attempt to get back in the habit of writing.  A jump-start if you will. 

This has been an extremely hard first semester at school.  An overabundance of change creates a situation where finding a routine is extremely difficult.  I am a creature of habit.  And as such, I desperately need to have a daily schedule that is consistent and methodical.  I can then plan my lessons and plug them in where they go and my days, and weeks work great. 

I think, as much as I hate to admit it, that it probably has something to do with my head injury.  Even as I’m writing that last sentence it pains me to admit that I have some form of disability.  Could I still be battling denial after 20 years?

This year, changes from the state and district are trickling down to my level almost every other week.  It feels like some big wig at the top of the educational mountain drops an idea the size of a pebble that begins rolling down to the trenches.  Then it starts a kind of snowball effect as gains size and momentum.  I’m at the bottom of the mountain feeling like I’ve got things under control when this new idea boulder comes bouncing down the pike and shatters my routine to bits.

I also feel like the left hand isn’t always talking to the right hand.  We have every available minute of the day accounted for, yet one of the pebble chunking guys at the top decides that his pebble (since it will only take 20 -30 minutes out of the day) really needs to be a priority.  Never mind that there are dozens of other guys up there.  Each with what seems like a good idea and pockets full of pebbles.  

All that to say, by the time I get home I’m exhausted and even though I’ve thought of several things I could write about, I need something mindless to do.  And writing is far from mindless, at least for me. 

So there you have it… a glimpse inside the world/mind of a Texas teacher. 

I’m off until January 4, 2011.  My plan is to neither think about school nor act in any way on its behalf. 

I’ll try to keep you posted on how that works out for me.

I'm Not Dead...YET!

A lot of new stuff is making this a pretty hard school year.  I think my writing, or rather lack of writing, is a direct result of the stress from school.  I've started a couple of stories, but just haven't had the time or the energy to finish them.  

Please don’t give up on me.  Check back from time to time, if only out of curiosity or boredom.

If you pray, please pray that I can grab this tiger by the tail and not lose my head in the scuffle. 

Thanks,

Hugh

Finding My Sea Legs

I’ve been on four cruises in my life.  If you do the math, that works out to one cruise every 11.25 years.  I don’t know why that makes any difference, but stick with me here.

Every cruise, no matter how large the ship, I always spend the first several hours finding my sea legs.  

Even though the ship really isn’t rocking all that much, I still end up walking with a serpentine motion as I’m headed down the hallway to my room.  At first it is so unfamiliar that I find myself banging into the walls on either side of the hall as I work my way to wherever it is I’m going.  If I’m somewhere without walls to bump into I tend to keep going until something or someone gets into my way.  Which, on more that on occasion, has been more than a little embarrassing.  (But that’s a story for another day)

However, usually by bedtime on the first day I find, that while I may still be moving down the halls with a wee-bit of zig to my zag, I’m not actually running into walls anymore.  I just look like I’ve been drinking, which, come to think of it, I probably have.  Out on the decks I’ve figured out how to navigate with nothing more than the occasional collision with objects or fellow passengers.  I’m not quite sure whether finding my “Sea Legs” has allowed me to move about the ship without swaying, or that the motion of the ship has simply becomes so commonplace that I don’t notice it anymore.  I think it's kind of like white noise. Either way, the waters calm down and I get to enjoy the cruise.

In a lot of ways the beginning of a new school year is exactly like that…that is without all the drinking.  (wink-wink)

Things start out a little rocky and I find myself bumping into walls and the occasional educator.  However, as days become weeks I usually find my sea legs, get into the groove and the water suddenly feels smooth.

This year the water has be exceptionally choppy.  I haven’t had this much trouble finding my sea legs in quite a few years.  I can’t put my finger on exactly what the difference is.  Which tells me it’s bound to be more that one thing. 

One thing is we have a new reading curriculum.  It’s good and I like it, but changing your whole reading program is huge. I also have a couple of very needy students who suck up time and energy.  I suppose that could be part of it as well.   I’m also seeing that it’s not just me.  There are several seasoned veterans at my school (please don't mention that I referred to them that way!) who are also finding the water a little rougher than usual this year.  

This is the seventh week and the waves are still pretty choppy, but at least I’m keeping my head above water.

If you pray, please pray that my seas will settle soon. 

I’m getting tired of wearing a lifejacket.

Mike the Singer... Round II

I’m reposting this for Keith.  I originally posted this back in November of 2004.

Enjoy,

Hugh

Mike the Singer

Now Mike was a guy

And he loved to sing

And Mike, he would sing

About most anything

Seems his focus was people

On every occasion

And he’d sing about folks

Of most any persuasion

One day, his songs told

Of a guy on a Harley

Whose clothes were a mess

And his face, it was gnarly

By the look of this guy

You could tell he chewed nails

And I’m certain he’d broke

Out of quite a few jails

Without thought for his safety

Mike started his song

And at first the guy sat there

Like nothing was wrong

When Mike got to the part

About a gross nasty smell

The biker guy looked like

Things weren’t going well

The biker guy stared

With a twitch in his eye

And he seemed to be thinking

Of ways Mike could die

When the song turned to baldness

The guy lost his cool

From a bag he produced

A quite strange looking tool

As he headed toward Mike

People started to hide

But the guy dropped his tool

He sat down, and he cried

See, Mike’s song didn’t change

Not even one part

But he touched that mean biker dude

Deep in his heart

The biker got up

Wiped his face with a sigh

Then he drove that weird tool

Right straight through Mike’s left eye

The biker was touched

That’s all I can say

And Mike learned

A valuable lesson that day

You can’t sing about bikers

Without one single care

That is, not unless

You’ve an eye, you can spare

Here is the comment Real Live Preacher, my brother, left back in 2004.  His comment really made me laugh... and I kind of like the idea of Dr. Suess meeting Quentin Tarantino.

Dare I admit I'm your brother?



Yeah, this is real live preacher.



Okay, I remember when you wrote this, some years ago, and sent it to me. When I got to the end, I was horrified and disturbed, then laughed at the "eye you can spare" line.




Then I felt crappy at having laughed. Then I felt mad at you for dragging me all the way to the end and then turning into Dr. Seuss meets Quentin Tarantino.



As if anyone has an eye to spare...



I don't know man, you one weird duckie!

Conversations are Odd...

I went to a dinner party last night at the home of some friends. There were five couples and the conversations were quite engaging. I decided a poem was in order. However, as I was writing the poem this morning I started feeling a bit like Dr. Suess…I think you’ll see what I mean.

Enjoy

It’s funny the way conversations do flow,

At times they start off rather dull and quite slow

They muddle along and don’t go anywhere,

You sit with eyes glazed pulling out locks of hair

You’re sitting there wondering why words have to suck,

When someone blurts out the phrase, “Mickey the Muck”

Then you listen as some bloke recites this odd ballad,

Next someone’s telling tales of massaging a salad!

The night’s conversations take off into space,

No topic’s taboo…no not at this place

We talked about names both funny and strange,

About raccoons and chimneys and goats on the range

We spoke of odd habits and scrum-dilly-dinkers,

We mentioned blum-bloomers and twee-twilly-twinkers

We solved the world’s problems at least in our head,

There was no need to plan the things that you said

There were shots of Tequila that some of us had,

It went down rather smooth and it wasn’t half bad

We laughed and we chatted long into the night,

And everything clicked cause our world was all right

When names of our kids became topic of choice,

I decided I had thoughts I needed to voice

Name your child how you like, on creative wings fly,

If you choose “Kitchen Counter” well, that’s just TMI

It was somewhere past midnight when things settled down,

And our conversations had gone round and round

We hugged and shook hands saying bye to each friend,

Conversations are odd, but they all have to end

Twenty Years Ago Yesterday

Twenty years ago yesterday Melissa and I were in the car accident that would change our lives forever

Twenty years ago yesterday I woke up in the morning and had no idea my life would never be the same

Twenty years ago yesterday in some ways feels so far away

Twenty years ago yesterday in many ways feels like today

Twenty years ago yesterday is a day that took over my life

Twenty years ago yesterday is a day that has haunted me

Twenty years ago yesterday is a day I’ve cursed with every ounce of strength I could muster

Twenty years ago yesterday is a day I can finally thank the Lord for

Twenty years ago today was the first day of a brand new life

History of Cut & Shoot Texas

One of my comments on my last post asked how the small, oddly named town got its name. I had no idea, but in my mind I had dreams of a town named for a descriptive, yet quaint kind of farming or prospecting metaphor. Not so.

Here’s what I found:

Cut & Shoot is a city in eastern Montgomery County, Texas, United States, about 6 miles east of Conroe and 40 miles north of Houston. The population was 1,158 at the 2000 census, at which time it was a town; the community only became a city in August 2006.

The City Hall of Cut and Shoot, Texas

According to local legend, Cut and Shoot was named after a 1912 community confrontation that almost led to violence. According to differing versions of the story, the dispute was either over:

• · The design of a new steeple for the town's only church, or
• · The issue of who should be allowed to preach there, or
• · The conflicting land claims among church members.

Whatever the circumstances were, a small boy at the scene reportedly declared "I'm going to cut around the corner and shoot through the bushes in a minute!"

This statement apparently stayed in the residents' minds and was eventually adopted as the town's name.

Sadly, the townsfolk must not have been all with us. I mean come on! You’re building a church and having a fight about the steeple, BEFORE you even have a name for your town? What kind of people are we talking about?

And then the best name you can come up with is something a boy yelled about cutting around a corner and shooting through some bushes…I can’ believe the town lasted more than a week. What’s more I guess they’re lucky the town’s not called, “I stepped in dog poop!”

Using Cut & Shoot logic I’m surprised we don’t have a string of towns across the state called, “Tag, you’re it!”, or “Dad! I’ve got to pee!” or “Here, pull my finger!”

And there you have it…more that you ever wanted to know about the less than romantic name origins of an obscure little town in southeast Texas.

Note:

I could be wrong, but I do believe my mother actually lived in Cut & Shoot back in the 1940’s. Maybe I should ask her about the name. However, by the time she lived there those poor people had been living with that goofy name for over 30 years. My guess is that boy had been strung up, or run out of town long before she got there.

Update:

I realize, thanks to the poetically worded comments from the one of my blog’s readers, as well as conversations with my mother and a friend who may or may not be that same poet/commenter that my postings have not been very regular. I’m working on that. Be patient. However, I decided to write a kind of update to let you know what's been going on.

Snakes:

I wrote twice about the reptile fun we’re having here, so I thought I should let you know what’s up with the snakes. I haven’t seen any more like the three I wrote about. My hope is that the extreme heat is keeping them all back at the creek. I did find a pencil-sized snake in my pool a few days back. He was black… which automatically makes me think Water Moccasin. However, he was so small and so quick in the water that I couldn’t tell if his head was a triangle.

Playing it safe, I simply chased him around the pool for about five minutes with my net. After wearing him out I scooped him up and dumped him over the back fence so he could find his way back to the creek.

My hope is that he went back and told all of his snake friends to stay out of that crazy man’s yard.

Bridge Fishers:

Shortly after writing about the city bridge fishers I drove by and there were about 15 people standing on the bridge looking over into the water. They were laughing, talking and having a grand time. I only saw about 5 poles, but there were a lot of people excited about the day’s catch. However, the temperature here began to rise and Dallas started its 18 to 20 days in a row of triple digit temperatures. Ever since then I haven’t seen any of our city bride anglers. Maybe they’re out there after dark.

Fun Lunch:

I had lunch with some of my friends from college a couple of weeks ago. I hadn’t seen most of them in over 20 years. It was fun. The only strange thing was how much everyone but me had aged. Hmmm, I wonder why? Maybe it’s the long hair…who knows?

Anyway, someone brought a yearbook from my sophomore year. I don’t remember doing anything strange or weird, however, it doesn’t run contradictory with any of the other things I did in college. So when they showed me my picture from that year, while it made me laugh, it really wasn’t a big surprise. Check me out below and see what I mean. Oh! Be sure to check out my hometown. If you ain’t from Texas, and even if you are, you may not be aware that there really is a city (let’s call’er a town) with that name.

Bob and Suzy Dance:

My daughter is on her school’s drill team. This drill team has an annual tradition called the “Bob and Suzy Dance”. This is a dance at the halftime show of a home football game in which the girls and their fathers dance together.

For those of you who know me, allow me to clarify: Hugh Atkinson will be dancing, on purpose, in the halftime show at a regular season football game. The date is October 29, 2010. The place is the Wildcat Stadium on Church Street right next door to Lake Highlands High School. The time is right after the second quarter. If you come to the game, come prepared to be amazed!

Back to the Books:

I’ve been back at school officially since August 16^th. However, I’ve been up there off and on in my un-air-conditioned classroom since about August 5^th, just to set things up. It’s only been about 2 ½ months, but I tend to get used to not being there, so I like to ease back into things. I find that working my way back up to a full day makes the whole year much better. I’m not sure why that’s true, but I think they call it age. I prefer to call it teaching experience.

When school’s back in session my writing tends to dwindle. I’m not sure how much less of it there could be, but trust me; I’ve got a plan to help me stay focused and write. I can’t tell you what it is, because that will jinx it.

Thanks for stopping by

Herpetologist Needed

I know that the types of non-venomous snakes far outnumber the number of venomous snakes…at least in Texas. As for the venomous variety there are but four: the rattlesnake, the corral snake, the copper head and the water moccasin.

Thanks to the noisy tail extension on the first, the handy little chant I learned as a Cub Scout (Red and yellow kill a fellow, red and black friend of Jack) for the second and the rather distinctive markings of the third, I’m pretty sure can identify these three at least 9.735 times out of 10.

The water moccasin is a wee-bit more difficult for me to pin down. I think of them as being pretty much black, but have seen some, through glass and in pictures, that were a myriad of colors. I know that the inside of their mouths are white, hence the nickname “cottonmouth,” but I haven’t had any luck in catching one mid-yawn. I tired telling him to say, “AW!” but he just ignored me. Truly, the only way I know of to see the inside of a water moccasin’s mouth is for me to be close enough for him to strike. And to me, that’s called finding out the hard way.

I only want to know what kind of snakes I’m dealing with. If they’re harmless then I’ll just leave them alone. Truth be told, I like having the harmless kind around. However, if they’re the Indian shoe variety I’m going to have to take a more proactive approach to the snakes’ and my living arrangements.

I don’t know exactly what “proactive” measures I can take, but I’ll have to find something. Looking online, I have noticed a product called, ‘Snake-A-Way’. The reviews I’ve read look promising, but I’ve only found a couple. I also don’t know if it is safe for people and pets.

So this brings me to my need…

I need a herpetologist who can help me know exactly what kind of snakes are in the pictures. I would also like anyone who has used Snake-A-Way to let me know if it’s any good. We’ve had three snakes on the porch this summer. The first one was the black snake, but I got caught up in the moment and forgot to take any pictures of him before I opened the door and he left in a hurry. The second snake is the one I killed and the third one I simply chased away.

Snake #2 – The one I killed

Snake #2 again

Snake #3

Thanks for any and all herpetological help you can lend.

I can pray the fish are biting...

I live in a part of Dallas that has several little streams, or creeks, or rivers, or some kind of winding body of water that moves, if only slowly. At least some of them feed into the ponds in my neighborhood.

Regardless of size, shape, or purpose, these streams are in Dallas, the largest city in North Texas. I’m not talking about rivers out in the middle of nowhere, these are creeks with major roads going over them and huge building all around them.

You can imagine my surprise when I’m out, not two miles from my home, and I see a family fishing off a bridge that’s is on a pretty major road. There was a man, a woman, and a small child in a stroller. Come to think of it I never actually saw a child, but only a stroller. I suppose the stroller could have been their bait bucket or their tackle box. If I happen to see them again, I’ll try to do a more thorough job of observation.

That being said, as I sat waiting for the light to change and I watched the man cast his line out between the trees I was forced to wonder about the socioeconomic standings of my city. The buzz on the streets is that Dallas; or rather Texas in general, is faring quite well in these hard economic times. Relatively speaking.

I had to wonder: Are people living that close to me so hungry that their best option for a meal is fishing off a bridge in a creek that couldn’t have been more that five feet deep? If there are, why haven’t I noticed before?

Even as I’m writing that last sentence…I know that answer.

It’s not that I haven’t noticed, it’s that I choose not to see.

I drive by that same creek everyday. Every single day. Sure I would have noticed people fishing, but that’s about it. I’m quite certain that there is poverty and need all around me, but I live in my own little world, cut off from those things. Even if those things are right around the corner.

Driving back home about 45 minutes later they were still there. Only this time the man was giving a casting lesson to a man who wasn’t there on my first drive by.

They were laughing and seemed to be having a good time. That made me feel better.

I fought the temptation to go back and ask the man about fishing off a bridge. Only because every conversation starter I could come up with sounded hollow and fake. I didn’t want this man to think I was making fun of him, but that’s how everything I said in my head of made me feel.

I drove by again a few hours later and they were gone. I don’t know if I’ll ever see them again.

Who knows?

I also don’t know if or how this is going to change me. My hope is that it will change me, but I just don’t know how yet.

What I do know is the next time I see someone fishing off a bridge in the middle of a city I’m going to stop what I’m doing, close my eyes, and ask God to please let the fish be biting.

So Whatever Happened to Chivalry???

Let me begin by stating right up front that I’m no shining example of chivalry myself. Sure, I hold doors for ladies, I always try to let members of the fairer sex go ahead of me when possible, I go around and open the passenger door of the car for women when I’m driving, and I even do my best to remember to stand when a lady is leaving or coming to the table when dining.

Come to think of it…maybe I AM a shining example of chivalry!

For whatever that’s worth, yesterday I witnessed what has to be the most abhorrent display of UN-chivalrous behavior known to man.

It’s pouring down rain. I mean raindrops the size of grapefruits and there were millions of them. I’m driving somewhere to do something when I see this man and woman walking down the sidewalk.

The first thing I noticed was that they had only one umbrella and it was over the man. My first thought was, “Man! What a jerk. He should give his umbrella to the lady.”

However, the closer I got I realized that not only was she lugging some kind of bag in her right hand and he was carrying nothing, but in her left hand SHE was holding the umbrella…

OVER HIS HEAD!

They were probably a foot and a half apart, so it wasn’t one of these, “Hey, lets share the umbrella,” things. Oh no, the entire umbrella was over him and she had her head down just watching her feet and trying to keep the drops from hitting her face. She was drenched from head to toe!

This guy was being a complete jerk.

Maybe I’m being too judgmental.

Maybe there is a really good explanation for his seemingly UN-chivalrous behavior.

Maybe he has the same odd affliction that the Wicked Witch of the West had and getting wet causes him to melt. And he wasn’t holding his own umbrella because both of his hands were broken.

Maybe he was on his way to do surgery and needed to keep his hands sterile.

Maybe they were doing an experiment on the effects of rainwater on women who are carrying heavy loads.

Maybe, Maybe, Maybe. Blah, Blah, Blah…

Make all the excuses you want, but what I know is that this guy was making us all look bad. At least all us men.

So what can we do?

Practice!

Take every opportunity you have to display your chivalry and make being chivalrous a habit. And maybe, just maybe it will become cool, again.

So whatever happened to chivalry?

I think we just got out of the habit.

I'm Hugh aka Marlin Perkins

In case you weren’t around in the late 1960’s or early 1970’s, Marlin Perkins was the host of Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom. Marlin knew everything there was to know about animals. Or at least his teleprompter did. Whether he was truly an animal expert, or he simply did a good job reading the cue cards, every Sunday evening he would bring a “Wild Kingdom” right into your living room. Yep, when I was a boy, the name Marlin Perkins was synonymous with African animals.

Our house backs up to a wooded area plus a body of water of some kind. I‘m not sure if it’s a creek, or a pond, but it’s some kind of at least semi-natural body of water. I guess it’s my own, somewhat slightly less, wild kingdom.

There are four or five of these creek/pond bodies of water in my neighborhood and about 1/3 of the houses, like mine, back up to them. Most of the houses that back up to these creeks have backyards that are landscaped right down to the water. Some even have little docks with paddleboats and there are fountains out in the middle of the water. For some reason, ours is the only one where there are woods between the water and the back fences of the houses. Maybe that’s to blame.

I’m not sure why, but for the last few weeks we have been inundated with wildlife of one kind or another.

I wrote about my snake adventure, but what I failed to mention was that the snake I killed was actually the second snake I found on my sun porch. The first one was much smarter and took off as soon as I opened the door.

Last August, I wrote about finding two baby opossums in my grill. I chased them off, but I’ve had two more opossum sightings in the last week.

We’ve also had an armadillo as well as a raccoon marching around in the yard. Top it all off with me finding a turtle in my pool last night. He was only about as big around as a baseball, so I snagged him in my pool net and slid him under the fence.

We’ve only lived in this house for a little over a year, but I’m beginning to feel a bit like I’m trapped in one of the lost episodes of Wild Kingdom. I half expect Marlin Perkins to knock on the door with a microphone and begin recording:

“Here at the Atkinson household you have to walk carefully and keep your eyes peeled. Up ahead in the foliage we can detect the distinct territorial marking behaviors of Didelphis virginiana, more commonly known as North American opossum. A marsupial, the opossum has been around for about 70-80 million years, which makes it one of the oldest surviving mammals. While not commonly considered dangerous, it can be quite fierce when cornered.”

I’ll keep you posted on any future Wild Kingdom adventures I happen to have.

Super Post-Man

This morning I realize that I hadn't posted anything in over a month, then I post not one, but two things on the same day!

All I can say is, "I'm not sure what got into me, but don't get used to it!"

Hugh

SNAKE!!!

He was brave; I’ll give him that. Brave and stupid!

So I tried to put myself in his shoes, so to speak…

“I’m laying there, minding my own business, when one of those giant, four limbed creatures heads right at me with some sort of long stick thing that has what looks like grass or hay sticking straight out of the end. (For Keith: It’s a broom!) He starts poking and hitting me with the grass end.

At this point I’ve got several options.”

1. I can stay put and hope the giant goes away

2. I can make a run for it and try to get off of this little sun porch thing

3. I can move behind something big, coil up and hide

4. I can rush towards the big creature and try to confuse it.

It is at this point at which my ability to mimic the self-preservation habits of a snake goes woefully astray. For you see, were I a snake, my first instinct would be to flee. Head for the hills. Get the heck out of Dodge.

However, not for our little legless friend. Oh no, he charges straight towards me. Well, kind of squiggly straight, but at me all the same.

So he charges ahead, but I hold my ground. That is until Melissa and Macy start screaming for me to shut the door. Truth be known, I thought I had him, but my sudden retreat gave him a boost of confidence. That’s when he coiled up and hunkered down. I decided to go outside and come in the same door that he had used to get onto the porch. Then I could chase him off he porch without any chance of him actually getting into the house.

I carefully sneak around through the backyard and enter the sun porch. Then, using the broom to keep a healthy distance between the two of us, (At this point I’m pretty sure he’s not venomous, but I’m no snake expert, so he could have been) I start to usher him towards the now wide open door. I’m urging him toward the door when all of a sudden I hear a hissing sound from behind me.

Understandably startled, I spun around half expecting to see Melissa and Macy laughing at me through the window. However, they hadn’t moved. That’s when I remembered the air freshener we have out there. It’s on a timer and sprays a small mist every 30 minutes. But when you’re chasing a snake and then suddenly get the feeling that they’ve got you surrounded, a chill runs up your spine.

Cursing the air freshener, I returned to my snake relocation duties. After finally getting him outside, I jokingly turn to Melissa, point to the snake and pretend to cut my throat with my finger. Knowing full well that my animal rights activist wife would in no way want this poor snake to be harmed.

Much to my surprise, she vigorously begins nodding her head in agreement. I’m not sure why she had this sudden change of heart. Maybe it was the fact that it was a snake. Maybe it was the fact the he had broken her unwritten law and actually come into our house. (If only on the sun porch) Maybe it was the fact the Melissa had crossed back over from the dark side and now believes that snakes are bad. Whatever the reason, the death penalty was back on the table, and I was the executioner.

Being the true man’s man that I am, I rushed to the garage, grabbed a hoe and trudged off to kill the dangerous beast and protect my family.

I think being chased around a sun porch and then shoveled out the door with a broom had tuckered out my scaly opponent. By the time I got back with the hoe he was moving off towards the grass, so I glanced back to see if the governor was going to step in and give him a stay of execution for his trespassing crimes.

But clemency was not to be. Both of my ladies were jumping up and down screaming, “KILL HIM! KILL HIM!”

It took three blows to finally slay the beast. Oh, and they were powerful blows. Not accurate, but powerful all the same. And what difference does accuracy make when you’re dealing with such extreme raw power?

When it was all said and done, I scooped up the still twitching body of my opponent, posed for a victory photo, threw him over the fence and then washed the blood off the porch.

Yes, Mother Nature was angry that that day, and it was not only my job to tame her wildness, but also to send a stern warning to her slithering allies.

“Stay off the sun porch, or you’ll meet the business end of a farm tool!”

** Disclaimer: I realize that the snake doesn't look all that large in the photo, but the lighting and the camera angle both make him appear much smaller than he actually was... Trust me, he was HUGE!

The Beauty That Is Sky Ranch

Sky Ranch is a Christian camp that has been around for years. It’s in Van Texas, a thriving metropolis with pert-near 1,000 residents, that’s only about 100 miles due east of Dallas. Not being from North Texas, I had never heard of either Sky Ranch or Van Texas. Not until 1987.

I was a senior in college, when a friend of mine talked me into applying for a summer camp counselor position at Sky Ranch. And so began my infatuation with this amazing place.

The summer of 1987 was a magical time. I had a blast as a counselor, and I learned a lot about who I was and what I wanted to do with my life. I also happened to meet the young lady who would, a mere year and a half later, become Mrs. Atkinson.

However, that was 23 years ago, and today, I picked my daughter up after she spent a week at Sky Ranch as a camper. She has been a camper at Sky Ranch before, but it was five or six years ago. And back then she simply went to Sky Ranch…the regular camp. This time she went to “Quest.”

Quest is a weeklong experience where they have the time of their lives doing all kinds of fun activities, but they also have at least four bible study times each day. They go to have fun, but also to explore what they believe about God and why. The counselors are a bit older than the regular Sky Ranch counselors, and my impression was a bit more grounded and confident in their own walk with the Lord. At least that was my impression after talking with them for a few minutes.

We hadn’t been there long when we met her counselor. She immediately begins telling us what a blessing it has been to spend the week with Macy. As well as how much she has learned from our daughter. She got tears in her eyes as she told us about our daughter.

I’m fighting back tears, (I actually did a pretty good job this time!) but she goes on and on with story after story about Macy and what an amazing girl she is. I’ve thought that for years, but come on isn’t thinking YOUR daughter is the greatest girl in the world, just part of being a father?

We found Macy standing in a crowd of teenagers all tearfully saying goodbye, and then it happened. One by one, each of the counselors and several of her fellow campers came up and just gushed about what a special person Macy is and what a blessing it had been to have Macy at camp this week.

After having been a Sky Ranch counselor, even if so very long ago, I know that when parents arrive what they need to hear is that their child is special and wonderful. Counselors look for whatever they can to brag about to make that child’s parents feel proud. But this was different…this was from the heart. These counselors and fellow campers recognized in Macy a quality that sets her apart. It is a quality that’s hard to define, but a pleasure to be around.

Sometimes as parents we need reminders. Reminders of not just what an awesome person your child is, but reminders of what an awesome person your child is becoming. Oh sure, we know they are, but it’s kind of like the crystal bowl that sits on our dining table. I know it’s beautiful, but it’s there 24/7. I’ll either walk right by without paying much attention, or I’ll complain about how dusty it is. However, when I take the time to pay attention, I’m always blown away by how gorgeous it really is.

So that brings us to the beauty that is Sky Ranch.

Sky Ranch took my child, showed her the time of her life and helped her mature in her faith. Then they gave her back to me and refreshed my awareness of what a gorgeous young lady my daughter really is... on the inside as well as on the outside!

Thank you Sky Ranch.

Me No Writing...

I noticed today that it has been over a month since my last posting. While I’m not known for posting very often, I do usually put something online at least two to three times a month. However, in my defense, this end of year at school has been a pretty hectic end of year. I don’t know what exactly it is that has made this year all that much more difficult.

Thinking back I can only find a few things that stand out as stressful:

#1. Half of the teachers on my grade level have left teaching, at least for a while, to take care of family.

#2. My class had a particularly hard time with some of the TAKS test concepts. This always seems to make the end of the year, the time when our scores come back, a nail-biter. (However, all my students passed everything!)

#3. Some of the parents of students on my grade level, not of my students mind you, made it their mission to make things hard for the entire school. I guess this is a “Trickle Down Stress” kind of thing.

Call it stress, call it anxiety, call it laziness, call it whatever you will, but I haven’t been in much of a mood to write. This is my first full week off, and my hope is that not only will my desire to write be renewed, but I will also have new fun experiences of which to write about.

Take for instance my resolution to begin working out the first Monday after school was out. That was this last Monday and I did begin working out. My plan is to work out Monday through Friday for 45 minutes to an hour. It’s Wednesday and so far I’ve worked out every morning. I feel pretty good, even though I can barely move in any direction without experiencing severe, sharp pain.

Yesterday, I was at Walmart and this guy asked me to help him put this huge box into his SUV. Without thinking I just grabbed one end of the box and hoisted it off the ground. Luckily for me something akin to adrenaline must have kicked in. I'm standing there holding this box with what feels like a baby elephant inside with burning pain shooting all through my body, but I didn’t drop the box. I’ll keep you posted on my progress and pain.

All that to say, yes, I am still alive and I hope to be writing more soon.

Hugh

Senior Class 2010

The 2010 Senior Class of Lake Highlands High School is a special class for me. Among them, like drops of water in the ocean, are a few who were third graders in my first class as an intermediate teacher at Moss Haven Elementary School.

Some, due to life and families, moved on and I have no way of knowing where they are or what has become of their lives. For them I don’t, and possibly never will, know anything about the turns their lives have taken after leaving Mr. A’s class.

However there are a few who, due to younger siblings, church connections, parental friendships and just us staying in touch, I have been able to keep tabs on. If only from afar.

Matthew is one of these special individuals.

Matthew is very smart, internally motivated and just plain fun to be around. His father was in the Corps at Texas A&M and so naturally Matthew’s big post-high school dream (at least in the third and fourth grades) was to follow in his father’s footsteps. A fact which allowed the class and myself to be the recipients of daily reasons/reminders of why A&M is better than UT. (I mean TU…sorry Matthew!)

Matthew made it his mission in life to point out imperfections in my lessons. Since it gave him a chance to pipe up and correct the teacher, he was always carefully listening for any mistake I happen to make. If I looked over and saw his hand in the air and a smirk on his face, I could be fairly positive I had misspoken in some way, shape or form. But I loved it.

I had fun with Matthew in more than one way.

From time to time, I would purposely multiply or divide something incorrectly, or I’d misstate some trivial piece of information, just to see if he would catch the mistake.

Next, I would find some piece of UT paraphernalia and place it dangerously close to his “Texas A&M Zone.” This would usually result in either my losing the UT bauble altogether, or finding it on my desk mutilated a day or two later.

Sometimes I would hide pictures of Bevo, UT’s Longhorn mascot in his textbooks. I would know he had found the picture when I heard the sound of tearing paper accompanied by a tired voice groaning the words, “NOT AGAIN!”

And then there was the time I hung a poster of Bevo on the inside of the window to my office facing the entire class. To the poster, I added a speech bubble and made Bevo say, “I love Matthew!” That one made him cry…perhaps it was a bit over the top. I removed the speech bubble after about six weeks.

Matthew left my class 9 years ago and is about to graduate from high school. He’s in the to ten at his high school. Not the top ten percent mind you, but rather the top ten graduates. A huge accomplishment.

The district is having a luncheon to honor these top ten students, and each student was asked to invite one teacher to sit with them.

Matthew asked me.

He had to have had second thoughts as I stood there staring at him with the puzzled look on my face.

I somehow managed to blurt out, “I’d be honored.” And he gave me a hug.

Later, I burst into tears as I told Melissa.

I only hope I can keep it together at the luncheon.

Matthew, I’ve been teaching for 16 years…and you just made every bad day I’ve ever had all worth it.

Thank you.