TAKS Day

It’s here again…testing day. For the third and fifth graders it’s the first of three chances to pass the reading test. For my fourth graders it’s the writing test, but they only get one shot.

For the most part I’m not too worried. I’ve got a few really good writers who could pass this test in their sleep, (but let’s hope they don’t try that) a bunch of kids who can concentrate and do well, and a couple who need some extra prayers.

If you know any TAKS day prayers, say one for my class today.

Many uses for a pencil...

Sometimes in life you witness the most amazing things…and sometimes the bizarre images that are translated through your rods and cones both baffle and disgust you.

Case in point:

When I teach reading there are times when the whole class is doing stuff together, and there are times when I’m reading with a small group and the rest of the students are working independently on reading activities centered around a story or sometimes a couple of stories.

I’m at my half-moon reading table, reading with a group of five students when something causes my focus to shift and I catch a glimpse of Drako.

Drako is holding his pencil and is also quite engrossed in the reading activity he was working on, which is exactly what I like to see in a student. However, it wasn’t Drako’s work habits that caught my attention, it was his pencil.

On his pencil he had one of those colored erasers you buy and stick on the end. I glanced up just in time to watch the whole eraser vanish up his nose. That’s right, UP HIS NOSE!

It jammed up there, twisted two or three times and popped back out. Then it moved over and repeated the whole process, game, nasal-fixation ritual, or whatever you want to call it, and popped back out. After that it moved back to the original nostril and started over. I’d say he hit each side of his nose four to five times, but the whole thing only lasted about 15-20 seconds.

But baby, it felt like an eternity to me.

It was one of those things so startling and so gross that you want desperately to avert your eyes, but for some reason you body won’t let you turn away.

So I’m sitting there, thanking my lucky stars for a high gag reflex tolerance, when he pops the eraser right smack-dab in his mouth.



And you thought pencils were just for writing…shame on you!

What is it?

What is it that convinces a child that he’s safer out on the streets late at night than he would be at home?


Being a teacher I get to see some of the most amazing and wonderful sights. I see miracles every day. It’s mind-boggling to think that these young minds that I’m working with will someday be the adults who are running our world. However, being a teacher I am also forced to witness some of the most depressing and disheartening sights you could ever imagine.

It’s a dichotomy that embraces and warms my soul, while at the same time it rips my heart to tiny shreds and grinds its mangled pieces into the ground.

What is it that keeps me coming back? I love being a small stop on the journey of these young minds. Being allowed to watch these young lives evolve, become mature and take flight is an incredible gift. It’s a gift that I thank God for every day.

But it’s the child for whom school is the only safe place he has that keeps me coming back.

What's new in your school?

What’s new in Texas public schools you ask? Well, you might be surprised.

After all the promises our not so beloved governor made prior reelection, the one thing that has trickled down to the schools is some kind of no competition for school lunches act.

Yes, you read that right!

It seems that we teachers have been doing things that, in the minds of the idiots in Austin, directly compete with the sale of school lunches. Who cares if what we’re doing has any educational value, because that’s not what school’s all about! I mean sure, we want “No Child Left Behind,” but only if we can make a few bucks at the same time.

So here’s what’s taken the ax so far under this wonderful piece of legislation; Our traditional, parent prepared Thanksgiving feast, our end of the six weeks, good behavior pizza parties, the occasional sweet treat reward, (a Hershey Kiss or something similar) the end of school class picnic, parents bringing lunch to school for any child except their own, and basically anything that involves providing something consumable to the students.

You may be wondering how they could get away with this, but our state legislators are a sneaky bunch. It seems they disguised this “get rich quick scheme” as an attempt to try to keep our state’s children healthy. However, when you say you want our children to be eating nutritious meals and then have dozens of different kinds of chips, ice cream and snack cake treats on point of purchase displays right there in the school cafeteria, well that’s just not a push for healthy eating.

The state’s top nutrition experts decided years ago that schools can no longer sell candy to children, because a Snicker’s Bar, for example, has no nutritional value. However, since ice cream has milk, Little Debbie snack cakes have eggs and Nacho Cheese Doritos have corn they fall under the umbrella of what the state of Texas considers to be, healthy foods. Never mind the fact that Blue Bell, Little Debbie and Doritos have most of our states legislators in their back pockets, they contain, milk, eggs and corn…so as far as the state’s concerned, they’re better than freakin’ vitamins!

Combine that with the fact that there are no limits to the number of these items that a child is allowed to buy and you have a sharp contrast the whole idea of healthy eating. I have even seen school cafeteria workers encouraging children to purchase more than one snack item.

So what can we do about this? I don’t really know. Sadly, teachers’ voices are rarely, if ever, listened to in Austin, at least where matters of education are concerned. What I can do is start my own boycott. That’s right, a boycott! It seems to be all about money, and what I can do is not give them any more of mine.

I realize that mine is only one small family…

but change has to start somewhere.

Shabbot Shalom

Last night Melissa and I had the most incredible experience. Our church, Wilshire Baptist Church, was involved in an interfaith worship service at Temple Emanu-El, a Reform Jewish Synagogue here in Dallas.

Their Rabbi and our pastor are friends who get together and discuss all kinds of things. On this occasion, we, the members of Wilshire Baptist Church, came as a group to be a part of the Friday Shabbat Shalom service. Shabbat Shalom is a praise service centered on welcoming the Sabbath.

The service was, as I expected, very liturgical. I was expecting to pray, here some Hebrew and learn a few things. However, what I wasn’t expecting was how worshipful the whole experience would be for me. Sitting there surrounded by people reading, singing and chanting in Hebrew, I found myself trying desperately to mimic the syllables. I didn’t even have any idea what they were saying, but it just seemed like I should do my best to try to be a part of the service.

After the Shabbat Shalom service we moved from the sanctuary to an auditorium where we, the Temple Emanu-El members and the Wilshire Baptist Church members, sat around tables and got to eavesdrop on a conversation our pastor and the rabbi had about the differences and similarities prayer has in our two traditions. There was a short question answer time, and then we all enjoyed meal together.

At my table there were five people from Wilshire and four from Temple Emanu-El, which was exactly the mix this service was designed for. We talked, fellowshipped, asked lots of questions, and learned how much we are alike.

In the end, I think a good time was had by all.

While this is the first interfaith worship service I’ve been a part of, Wilshire and Temple Emanu-El have had several in the past and more planned for the future. Next time it will be at Wilshire, and I can’t wait.

Snow Day!!!

I woke up at 5:00 am, and sleet was falling as I drove to the gym. I got home about 6:00 and couldn’t get back up the driveway because of all the ice. I parked out front, came inside, turned on the TV and waited. Somehow I knew that we wouldn’t have school today. However, it wasn’t until about 6:45 that Richardson ISD made the decision to cancel school.

I’m quite sure you heard us cheering. Well two of us were cheering. Melissa still had to go to work. They don’t close hospitals when it gets icy…go figure?

I’ve spent the day watching TV, playing PS2 and just being lazy.

Cause baby, it’s a snow day!

I felt like a total ass

I’m discussing the progress of my students with another teacher when I start complaining about how often a certain student in my class has been absent this year. She transferred into my class sometime during the second six weeks and has been absent or tardy close to 20 times. Her saving grace is her sweet personality. She’s never a behavior problem, works hard and always does her best.

I must admit that if she were any kind of a behavior problem I would probably have pitched a fit months ago. However, right or wrong, I tend to be a bit more forgiving with students who work with me.

Anyway, this child was absent three days in a row this week, and that’s why I found myself complaining. When she showed back up on Friday I was quick to tell her we missed her, but either didn’t have the time or the desire to inquire about reason for her latest absences. I just assumed she was sick…again. When she showed me that she had done all her spelling and reading homework I smiled big, said “Wow,” and gave her a Good Citizen, (a reward coupon that our school uses). Then we started our day.

It wasn’t until sometime after lunch that she came up and asked if I wanted to know why she had been gone. I slapped on my best concerned face and said, “Sure.”

“My Daddy died.”

I found myself frantically searching for words. Words that never came. Somehow I managed to blurt out something about being sorry and I gave her a hug.

Turns out he’d been sick for quite a while and many days that’s why she had been gone. She had never said anything about her dad being sick, and to tell the truth I’m not sure why she would have.

After school I was in the office when I told the teacher I had been complaining to about what an ass I was for complaining and not first finding out what was going on in this poor child’s life. That’s when I found out that her mother has cancer.

Standing there I felt awful. How can I expect anyone, let alone a child, to make school a priority when her world is being turned upside-down?


Like I said, I felt like a total ass.

Bikinis and Beer

What is it about a girl in a bikini that makes you stop and buy some beer? Who knows?

There’s one of those drive through beer stores in Dallas on Greenville Ave. At first glance, it looks like a small auto repair shop, but the closer you get it’s simply a warehouse that has two large garage doors at each end with two drive-through lanes that go all the way through the building. Coolers line the walls and there’s a casher’s desk stuck right in the middle. You turn in, go around to the back of the building, pull in through one of the lanes, buy your beer and pull back out onto Greenville all without ever getting out of your car.

It’s been there for several years.

Driving by one day this summer I noticed a couple of bikini-clad girls sitting out front under a big umbrella. Contrary to what I’m forced to assume is the owner’s plan, the first thought that popped into my mind wasn’t, “Hey, I need some beer!” but rather, “I wonder what they’ll do if I honk my horn?”

Sadly, mine must not have been the first horn they had heard that day, because I honked twice and they never even moved.

But it left me wondering…

This guy hires these girls to sit out in front of his store to attract business. (Now I don’t mean to be sexist here, but you have to admit it sounds like a guy owns this place) Does he really think that’s going to help drum up customers? Even if it does, how do you measure the cost effectiveness of this kind of marketing?

Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy to have the occasional drive-by bikini sighting, but I just don’t understand the thinking behind this scheme. I’ve never driven by while someone was actually buying beer. Maybe the girls carry the beer to the car, or take the money, or dance, or something.

However, here’s the real quandary. We’re into January and it’s no longer bikini weather, not even here in Texas. I’m driving by yesterday and I see a girl sitting not in a bikini, but jeans with a parka. Not only that, but she was reading a newspaper and once again didn’t look up when I honked.

So what is it about a girl in a bikini that makes you stop and buy some beer?

The world may never know.

Cat-box or Cake??? - You be the judge

Would you eat something out of a cat-box?

Well, I did!

I teach with Marcell, and Marcell is an amazing baker. She loves to bake, is quite good at it, and is all too happy to bring her delicious taste treats to school for her fellow teachers to enjoy.

That being true, you can imagine my surprise when she recently unveiled this in the lounge.

Believe it or not…it tasted incredible!

If you want the receipe I'm sure I can get it.

Better Late Than Never...A Halloween Costume Update

I was reminded by a comment on my last posting that I never came back and told you about our costume. In my defense, I was looking for one of the dozens of people who took our picture in hope of adding it to the post. But alas, it seems all the parents at my school are photography purists and wouldn’t go near a digital camera.

So, I’m forced to report on my costume without the visual aid I had so desperately desired.

We were, drum-roll please…yahtzee!

That’s right, the five of us painted boxes while, attached black circles, cut holes for our heads and tumbled through the halls. We’d stop at various points along the way and scream, “YAHTZEE!” at the top of our lungs.

We were a gigantic hit! Many of my student’s extremely impartial parents told me later that ours was the best teacher costume by far.

But just you wait until next year, we’re really going to blow them away!

Monty Python and the Holy...Ale???

So there I am walking through the Market Street grocery store in McKinney Texas, when I happen onto the beer isle. Deciding that I need a beer, I begin perusing the various brands available. That’s when my keen beer senses told me that this was no ordinary beer isle.

Oh sure, they had Bud, Coors and Miller. However, this store was the haven for every bizarre type of ale known to man. They had literally hundreds of different kinds of ale. I mean everything from Hobgoblin Ale to Pumpkin Spice Ale. It was truly extraordinary.

I’m at one end trying to decided between Hobgoblin Ale and something written in what I think was German, but had a really cool label when Melissa come walking up with a bottle of Monty Python’s Holy Grail Ale.

And the choice was made.

It only comes in pint bottles. A fact that has always seemed a bit odd to me, England being on the metric system and all. I got home, popped it open and enjoyed the whole pint.

If you like dark ale, I recommend giving Monty Python’s Holy Grail Ale a try.


Note:
Don't worry big brother, I’ve got one for you in the fridge and I’m brining it to Georgetown!

Leap-Frog Thinking

It’s funny how the mind works. I’m more than a little curious about where thoughts and memories come from. I have a progressive kind of thought “leap-frog” thing that at times can be quite fun, but is usually a bit annoying. Here’s how it works.

It begins with me reading or hearing something that starts my mind wondering about some odd detail from whatever it is that I’ve just read or heard. Next, the natural progression of my wonderings causes something different, but closely connected to the original thing I was first wondering about, to come to mind and I’ll start thinking about that. I’ll stay focused on whatever this happens to be until my mind takes its next “leap-frog” thing.

So goes the mental processing of a self-diagnosed, borderline ADD person. I’m forever finding myself staring thoughtfully at whatever person happens to be speaking with my mind having moved progressively through dozens of different topics. Top that off with the fact that I’m usually more that a little confused about how I started thinking about whatever it is that I am now think of, and you have an extremely perplexing quandary.

I recently had one of these “leap-frog” episodes in church. It went something like this:

The pastor was preaching, and I was listening. I don’t know if he said “peppermints,” or if something he happened to mention caused me to think of peppermints. Whatever the reason, I found myself thinking of peppermints. Peppermints caused me to think of a time I had my class use paper plates to make peppermints to decorate for a holiday program. Then I remembered a boy who wanted to make Mentos instead of the red and white kind, because in his words, “I like Mentos better than the other kind.” I started wondering which kind I like better. That made me think of how when I was a volunteer at Memorial City Hospital in Houston and I would always get two packages of Mentos in the cafeteria and eat them the whole time I was at the hospital. Thinking about being a hospital volunteer caused me to remember Doug Persons, possibly my first best friend in Houston. Then I thought about the time Doug Persons and I made copies of our faces on the hospital’s copier.

I was engrossed in my twisted web of thought when something yanked me back to reality. I somehow managed to backtrack through my mind’s bizarre train of thought and find the logical progression that had brought me to my current wonderings.

Like I said, it’s funny how the mind works…at least mine.

Being Scared

I’ve never really been scared before. Sure, I’ve been on the edge of my seat during the scary part of movie. I’ve also had the poop scared out of me while driving on Central Expressway here in Dallas. However, it wasn’t until I got the news of my dad’s cancer that I understood what being scared really is.

At the beginning I kept thinking that I was going to wake up from this really bad dream and everything would be okay. When that didn’t happen, I started believing my dad’s doctors would figure out that they had made a mistake. When that didn’t happen, I started thinking that some smart doctor would show up and he would have the cure. When that didn’t happen, I thought the doctors were going to figure out a way he could easily live with medullary thyroid cancer. When that didn’t happen, I took my dark suit to the cleaners.

I’ve been on an emotional roller coaster for the better part of a month and right now I’m feeling pretty good. The good news is, doesn’t look like I’m going to need that dark suit anytime in the near future. Dad’s surgery went as well as the doctors could have hoped for, but I find that after the wild ride’s ups and downs of the last few weeks, I haven’t been able to let go of the bar and stop holding my breath…not just yet.

Thank you to everyone who prayed for my dad and my family. There is no doubt in my mind that the prayers (and there were a lot of them) made all the difference.

I’ll keep you posted.

Hugh

Moon Pies and Me

Have you ever seen a Moon Pie? Growing up I’d see them at Otto’s, the little independently owned convenient store near our house in Houston. Otto’s happened to be right behind Shadow Oaks Elementary and, luckily for me, right on my way home. Each day I’d scrape together enough change to stop on the way home and buy a Coke, or ice cream, or candy, or something.

You couldn’t miss the Moon Pies. They occupied a prime “point-of-purchase” location all along the checkout waiting line. They came in brown, white, yellow and even pink. There were always dozens of them stacked up in lines on the three shelves that stretched the length of the counter and as far as I knew, nobody ever bought one.

Occasionally, my friends and I would discuss these strange looking cookie creations as we waited in line. These conversations would go something like this:

“Have you ever had one of those?”
“No, but I think my dad has.”
“Are the brown ones chocolate?”
“Maybe, but what are the pink ones?”
“Beats me. Get one and let’s try it!”
“I’ve only got enough money for one thing, I’m not going to waste it on one of those.”

And so went my years at Shadow Oaks Elementary. To Moon Pie, or not to Moon Pie? – That was the question.

I never did try a Moon Pie. As a matter of fact, that was over 30 years ago and I have never so much as sniffed the wrapper of a Moon Pie…that is until last night.

I’m not sure what sparked my Moon Pie memory, but for some reason I was prompted to bring them up with Melissa. I don’t even remember what was said, but I’m sure it sounded something like this:

“Have you ever had one of those?”
“No, but I think my dad has.”
“Are the brown ones chocolate?”
“Maybe, but what are the pink ones?”
“Beats me. Get one and let’s try it!”

That was several weeks ago at best. Like I said, I don’t really even remember having the conversation. However, Melissa was at a conference in Nashville, Tennessee. As it turns out, Tennessee is where Moon Pies are made. So, being the dutiful and supportive wife that she is, Melissa decided to buy me not one, but two Moon Pies, which she proudly gave to me at baggage claim A16 at DFW Airport. This was to be the historic location of my first Moon Pie experience.

Being a Moon Pie virgin, I inspected the outside of the package. The first thing I noticed was the slogan, “The Only One on The Planet!” As I’m pondering the whys and wherefores of that statement I see where it says “The Original Marshmallow Sandwich.” Standing there gazing down at this chocolate covered creation I noticed where it says, in big letters, “Double Decker – Big Snack, Great Value.”

Baby, I was hooked!

Then I noticed the date. This was October 13, 2006, so I was cautiously optimistic when I noticed that my new Moon Pie buddies were set to expire on January 8, 2007. I really had no way of knowing how long these bad-boys had been on the shelf. Based on the ones I remembered from my Otto’s days, it could have been sitting there for a couple of years before Melissa bought it. However, I didn’t let that deter me from my date with my Moon Pie destiny.

These two pies had been stuck in Melissa’s purse for several hours, so they were pretty smashed. But you would have thought it was Christmas morning the way I tore into this thing! Remember, these were Double Decker Moon Pies and being stuck at the bottom of a purse for over half a day had not done them any good. However, I was determined to not only taste my first Moon Pie, but eat the whole thing!

Thanks to the purse, the chocolate flavored outer layer was now mostly stuck to the wrapper, so holding the bottom half of the sandwich through the wrapper, I tried to break part of it off, but the gooey marshmallow center was not breaking easily. That’s when I decided to just take the big plunge.

Throwing caution to the wind, I clamped my mouth down on my first Moon Pie.

I must admit that the experience was nothing at all like I expected it to be. I really thought that the cookie part of the Original Marshmallow Sandwich would be crisper, something like a Oreo, but I was sadly mistaken. It was more like a stale graham cracker that had been soaked in liquid and allowed to sit out for a few days.

The marshmallow part was very spongy, and never really seemed to break down as I chewed. It was a lot like chewing a piece of gum and eating a saltine cracker at the same time. (A stunt I’ll never do again…but that’s another story)

So there I am, standing at baggage claim A16 enjoying, or at least eating, my first Moon Pie. That’s when Melissa pointed to the ground. What I had either failed to notice, or had chosen to ignore, was the fact that my new taste treat was quite crumbly. At my feet was a rather large pile of chocolate covered, graham cracker looking pieces. The mess was so large that my now embarrassed wife and daughter walked away and pretended not to know me. A little game they sometimes feel they’re forced to play when we’re out in public.

Trying in vane to kick my ever growing pile of Moon Pie droppings under the edge of the baggage carousel, I looked up to a find somewhat snooty man looking at me with a kind of disgusted frown on his face. Without missing a beat I boldly thrust my half eaten snack up toward him and announced in a loud and somewhat gleeful voice, “MOON PIE!” He grabbed his stuff and moved to the opposite end of the carousel.

At this point Melissa rushed back over. Wiping crumbs off my face and shirt she whispered, “Hugh, I know people here, please don’t embarrass me!”

So there you have it. My first Moon Pie experience.

I somehow managed to choke down the whole thing. To tell the truth, after the first two or three bites, it got a bit easier to eat. I’m not sure why. After living on this planet for almost 42 years I’ve finally eaten my first Moon Pie, and not unlike swallowing a piece of chewing gum, I’m sure this first pie will be out of my system in about seven years.

Maybe by then I’ll be ready to eat the second one.

Family Crisis

We, my family and I, are in the middle of somewhat of a family crisis. It's not something that we won’t make it through, but it is something that we’d rather not be dealing with. We have many, many questions and to date, not as many answers as we would like.

Suffice it to say the crisis involves an illness and like my brother, RLP, I’ll probably write more about it later.

For now, if you pray, please put my family in your prayers.

Thank you,

Hugh

Life

Sometimes life is hard to handle...

Hugh

9/25/2006 - An Update...

It looks like we’ve decided on our costume ideas for the costume parade. Now it’s quite possible that couple of the teachers at my school actually read my blog from time to time. (Nobody actually admits they do, but it’s the only explanation for some of the giggling and sideways looks I get) Due to that fact, I’m not going to give our costume away just yet. Rest assure it is a wee-bit strange. You’ll just have to check back sometime after Halloween to see the pictures.

Remember back when you were in school and you had those things called Teacher-in-Service days, but all you knew was that it meant you didn’t have school? And remember how much fun they were, especially when you didn’t know anything about them until the day before? And remember how you always wondered what the teachers could possibly do up at school if you weren’t there?

As nice, and as much needed, as a break like that is for the students, it ain’t all that bad for the teachers either. Today was an In-Service day in my district.

We sit in some classes listening to some good speakers and some not so good speakers. If you’re ever asked to speak to a group of teachers, say, “No,” quickly and firmly and run for your life! Teachers make the worst students. We doodle, we talk, we pass notes, we make all kinds of faces, we interrupt the speaker with all kinds of off-the-topic comments and some of us even fall asleep. Not me...this time.

I’m not ashamed to admit that the highlight of everyone’s day is lunch. You see, on the average, we usually get somewhere between 20 to 25 minutes to inhale our cold sandwich or microwave burned Leal Cuisine.

But our district, in an attempt to compensate us for our speed eating induced acid reflux, allows us an hour and a half for lunch on In-Service days…that 90 minutes to you and me!

I must admit that we all enjoy the chance to have lunch with adults and not have to hear about how little Johnny stole Billy’s last tator-tot, or how Billy poured milk on Johnny’s hamburger to pay him back, but got some on Martha’s new dress by mistake and now she’s going to get in trouble.



As wacky and strange as all this sounds…I’m looking forward to school tomorrow.

Just Me...

I’m finding it harder than ever this year to be motivated to sit down and write, and I don’t know why. I like to write. When I’m writing hours pass by like minutes. It’s a grand experience.

But I don’t know what it is that causes my writing to slow down. Maybe it’s school and all the beginning of the year headaches. Maybe it’s just life and normal everyday pressures. Maybe it’s age. Who knows?

What I do know is that I miss writing, but just can’t seem to get myself started. I have several things I want to write about and I’ll do my best to get around to them at some point.

But today I have a question and I need your help.

At my school we have a Halloween parade every year that is a pretty big deal. I mean the hallways are filled with parents and grandparents holding cameras and cheering. All the students walk through the halls and classrooms showing off their costumes. Not only do all the students dress-up, but the teachers as well. The kids, for the most part, all wear the usual store bought costumes. However, the teachers are always the ones to watch. Each grade level tries to outdo not only the other grade levels, but also themselves from the previous year.

That being said, there are five teachers on my grade level and we could really use a great costume idea. There are four ladies plus myself, although gender really isn’t a factor for the costume. I would wear a dress for the team if I needed to. Remember, this is a public elementary school, so any costume idea would have to be appropriate for our younger viewers.

We had the idea of being a hand, but we haven’t come up with an easy way to pull it off.

Whatever we end up being, I’ll get some photos and post them here…should be good for a few laughs.


Got any good costume ideas?

We Don't See That Anymore...

We don’t see that anymore, is a phrase I’ve heard two times in the past couple of weeks.

The first time was when I stopped to help a woman in her 80’s put some heavy items into her car at Office Depot. She and her driver, a woman of similar age, were both flabbergasted when from out of the blue a man stopped and helped them load these heavy items into their car. Top that off with the fact that I then opened the car door for the lady and you have dinner conversation at the retirement center for the next month. As I was replying to the thanks I was receiving with, “You’re welcome, it’s my pleasure” and closing the door, the first lady turned to the driver and said, “You don’t see that anymore!”

About a week later, I was at the grocery store when a woman, maybe in her 30’s, dropped her shopping list on the floor. I happened to be walking by as it fell, so I bent down and picked it up for her. It wasn’t even all that big of a deal. All I did was take about 2.5 seconds out of my day to do something for someone else, but that’s when she said it. “You don’t see that anymore!”

It wasn’t until I heard the second woman utter the phrase that I was struck with the thought…why not?

Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not the polished gentleman. I tend to put my elbows on the table, eat a bit too fast, and on occasion I’ve been known to laugh at, and yes even make, slightly inappropriate comments. (I stress slightly, because my mom does read this from time to time)

However, when it comes to simply being courteous, I take pride in the fact that I always open doors, both building and car, for my wife or whatever woman I happen to be around. When we're eating, I also do my best to stand when a lady comes to, or gets up from, the table. I don’t always remember, but at least I’m trying.

I am always surprised at and a little disheartened by the number of women for whom this kind of behavior is so out of the ordinary. When and how did simply being a courteous gentleman become a lost art?

There was the time that I was leaving Dillard’s and I held the door for a very tough looking woman who was about to enter through the same door that I was exiting. (A gesture I would do for anyone, man or woman) Flicking her cigarette butt to the sidewalk she said, in a not so pleasant tone, “I can get that myself you know!”

To which I replied, in the very same overly happy tone I used the first time my daughter made poopy in the big potty, “Well, aren’t we a big boy today.”

An angry scowl and a protruding middle finger were my only reward for my quick tongue.

Putting this angry masculine woman aside, I believe that women enjoy being indulged with these small, everyday courtesies. And to tell the truth, it’s just not that hard to do.

So why is it such a lost art?

Gone are the days when door handles were akin to outdoor grills and lawn mowers. Both of which, I’m proud to say, my wife has never had any reason to learn how to use!

As men we should be taking back the door handles! They were our domain, but time and possibly apathy have turned them into common property.

If you’re a man, and I mean a real man, I challenge you to get out there and open some doors and let the ladies go first!

If you do, and it becomes a habit, maybe it will be the end of comments like, “We don’t see that anymore…”

My Governor is a Jewish Cowboy! If only...

If you’re not from Texas then this isn’t going to mean much to you. However, if you happen to live in Texas and are 18 or older, then you need to be thinking about who it is that you want for your next Governor.

I really can’t sit down and argue politics with the big boys. It’s not only that I can’t, it’s also that I just don’t have the desire. I guess that dumps me into the pot with all the other apathetic Americans, but I can say that I do vote in every election. The fact that my place of employment is the same place I go to vote, makes it a bit easier for me than it may be for the majority of the American public.

When I started blogging back in 2004, I never thought that I would write about anything even remotely political. I thought about, but quickly decided that I wanted this to be fun and that writing of that kind would take way too much effort. So, I’ve avoided writing about anything even remotely political. To tell the truth, it wasn’t all that hard. If you don’t know anything about something, then it’s pretty easy not to talk about it. You may have also noticed that I haven’t written much of anything about how hard it is to do surgery…and that’s for the same reason.

However, I do know enough to say that Rick Perry is not doing anything to help Texas’ education system. I know that Governors have no real power and therefore can’t really change things, but they can work to hard to steer things in the direction that they want things to go. We’ve seen Governor Perry get things done, just not for education. I mean it took him two years with extended special sessions to finally pass an education reform bill kind of thing, but it really didn’t help.

So, if you call Texas you home and you believe that education is important, then I urge you to vote. I’m voting for Kinky Freidman and I hope that one day I will be able to say, “My Governor is a Jewish Cowboy!” (Click here to find out more about Kinky)

However, even if you’re not going to vote for Kinky…at least get out there and vote.


Just not for Rick Perry!




This advertisement was paid for by the “Hugh Atkinson is tired of Rick Perry” fund and is not associated with any of Kinky Friedman’s actual campaigns.