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.

Maddie Update

Sorry I hadn’t given a Maddie update, but sometimes no news is good news…or so “they” say.

Anyway, Maddie isn’t fully back to her old self again, but she’s much, much closer than she was three weeks ago. We were getting a blood test about every two to three days. Now we’re down to once every week to ten days.

Dr. Murray is primarily looking at the levels of two things, the B.U.N., and something called Creatanin. (I’m sure it’s spelled wrong, but it all sounds Greek to me!)

The B.U.N. is supposed to be somewhere in the 20’s. A month ago it was about 290. The Creatanin is supposed to be about 2.5. A month ago it was close to double digits.

Friday, April 23^rd the B.U.N. was about 65 and the Creatanin was 4.6ish. Dr. Murray drew some blood on Saturday and we should get the results on Monday.

For the last couple of weeks I’ve been giving her daily, 200cc fluid injections. However, Dr. Murray has bumped it up to 300cc. I’m pretty sure 1cc is equal to 1ml. If that’s true, then I’m putting in a little less than a third of a liter of extra fluid each day.

It’s sometimes a little bloody, but not that hard to do. I’ve done it more that a dozen times now and it’s second nature now. Truth be told, I could probably show Dr. Murray a thing or two how to do it without sticking your own thumb. A mistake I won’t make twice.

As for Maddie, our big struggle now is getting her to eat. Evidently the levels being off make her a wee-bit nauseated. We’ve discovered she likes milk on her food…go figure.

At this point I think Melissa and I are both cautiously optimistic about how things are going.

I’ll try to remember to keep you posted

Thanks for asking.

Denial...Sometimes It's What Keeps You Going

We got Maddie, our dog, from Operation Kindness, no-kill animal shelter here in Dallas. She’s been a part of our family for about 10 years.

The first week of March, Maddie was trotting back down the hallway to her bed after breakfast and her morning constitutional, when she let out a loud yelp and started limping. I assumed she had a sticker or twig stuck between the toes of her paw and had stepped down just right to make it hurt. I carefully checked her paw and couldn’t find anything. I also noticed that I could squeeze her paw fairly tight and she didn’t care. That’s when we took her see to Dr. Murray.

Now, I know Dr. Murray has, on occasion, read my blog, so I’ve got to be careful not to give him a big head. That being said, Dr. Murray is an amazing veterinarian! We’ve had at least five different dogs and cats over the last 12 years who have had Dr. Murray as their primary care physician. He’s cared for and loved on each of our pets like they were his own. And on more than occasion he’s cared for and loved on us as we said good-bye to a friend. He cares for the owners as much as the pets, he’s got the whole ball of wax covered. (I also heard he plays a pretty mean game of golf, but that sounds too good to be true.)

Anyway, turns out Maddie tore her Achilles tendon and needs surgery.

We were scheduled to go on the cruise the very next week, so we scheduled the surgery for the Monday after we returned, and we boarded Maddie with Dr. Murray while we were gone. It seemed like Maddie was going to be back to her old self relatively soon.

Not so…

The plan was to get back from the cruise on Sunday, pick Maddie up on Monday after school and take her to the animal surgery center and she’d be home by Wednesday.

Right after school on Monday I got a call from Dr. Murray.

“Maddie has had some kind of a reaction to one of the pain meds she’s been on. She’s stopped eating, is very lethargic and just isn’t herself. I’ve already canceled the surgery. She’s got to get better before she can handle something like that. You should probably just take her home for a few days, we’ll get her back to normal and then reschedule the surgery.”

I brought Maddie home, hoping being home would help her appetite return, but it was no good. She was up most of the night with liquid coming out of both ends.

She went back to Dr. Murray the next morning.

Maddie spent most of the next week doing in-patient care with Dr. Murray during the day, and at a local Emergency Animal Clinic at night.

She was a mess.

Here’s where the denial comes in. You see, I think down deep inside I knew how bad off Maddie was. However, I just didn’t think about that, or talk about that, or listen to people who were talking about that. If I didn’t entertain such notions, then they wouldn’t become a reality.

Healthy? Not entirely, but it’s a natural part of the (or at least my) grieving process.

I know I’m going to have to say good-bye to my furry little friend one day, but hopefully not any time soon.

I'll keep you posted.

Note: As for Maddie, she’s not completely out of the woods yet, but she’s come a long way. We’re taking it one day at a time and doing everything we can to get as much liquid in that little dog as possible so her kidneys won’t shut down. It’s a roller coaster ride and we’re holding on with white knuckles, just waiting for that last big plunge.

It's a Small World...

Over Spring Break we went on a cruise. Our ship was Royal Caribbean’s Oasis of the Seas. It’s that new 6250 passenger, larger than life ship that started cruising earlier this year. Both the ship and the cruise were pretty amazing.

However, this story isn’t about the ship. Don’t worry I’ve got some stories to tell about the ship and all that we did, but this is about a really bizarre thing that happened on one of the islands we visited.

Our ports of call were St. Thomas, St. Maartin (that’s how they spell it) and Nassau.

So we’re on St. Thomas, one the Virgin Islands. We had walked around, shopped a little bit and had basically just been lazy. It ended up with the four of us, Melissa, Macy, Page (a friend we took with us) and me just sitting on the beach with hundreds of other people. We started getting hungry, so Melissa walked down the beach and found Thor.

Thor is a large, animated island resident who either works for one of the beach restaurants, or he simply makes money by looking crazy, taking people’s orders and playing waiter for tips. Either way, Thor has a very colorful personality that made eating on the beach much more fun than it usually is.

Anyway, the four of us, and the group next to us, both ordered from Thor. The group next to us had about six adults and their kids. They were ordering some pretty festive drinks and seemed to be having a pretty good time. I was a little jealous of the drinks, but I knew I had to somehow actually make it back to the ship, so I decided not enjoy one of their festive beverages.

Thor shows up, gives us our food and tells us he’ll be right back to collect the money. I get my money ready and start walking toward Thor and the festive drink group to pay. When suddenly, the guy from the festive drink group who is talking to Thor starts to look familiar. He had on dark sunglasses and that made it hard to be sure. That’s when I turned to Melissa.

“Look at the guy talking to Thor. Is that Tracy Ward?”

“No way…well, maybe.”

“Last time I saw Tracy he had hair, but I’ve seen him on Facebook, and it’s all gone now. So that could be him.”

At this point I yell, “TRACY!” He never stops talking to Thor.

“I guess not, it’s hard to tell with his sunglasses on.”

“Hugh, isn’t that Kathleen?”

It was at this point that I realized I had traveled thousands of miles from home, and was sitting on the beach next to my old buddy from my college days at Hardin-Simmons University, as well as, Seminary. We were actually headed to Tracey’s house back in 1990, when we were in the accident that changed my life forever. Come to think of it, Tracey is one of the few people who actually read this blog. Go figure?

Turns out it was Tracy Ward. We talked, laughed and hugged. Of course it never occurred to either one of us to take a picture, but the memory is all I need.

Turns out, if not for Thor’s loud “Hey! Look at me!” kind of personality, I may have never realized that I was soaking up the sun right next to my old friend.

Then we saw each other again at the airport as we were leaving Fort Lauderdale. Tracy got a picture of us on his iphone standing outside the airport. At least that was something.

Yep, it really is a small world…But I wouldn’t want to paint it.

Thor

I had to say something...

I have written about this before, but it’s on my heart and this is my best outlet.

When I see small children afraid to come to school, not because of missing homework or bullies, but rather because of a standardized test called TAKS (Texas Assessment of Knowledge and Skills), it breaks my heart and infuriates my soul at the same time.

The state of Texas is doing a serious disservice to lives and futures its people by putting our children through this kind of an “educational” ringer.

The biggest worry that a third grader should have is getting cooties, not passing some damn standardized test!

We have lawmakers in Austin (and Rick Perry is the main one) with no educational training who are sitting in their ivory tower and tossing out educational reform ideas like an old, blind man feeding handfuls of pebbles to a flock of hungry birds. He has no idea that the pebbles aren’t food, and that they are actually killing the very birds he’s trying to feed, so he keeps on throwing. He hears voices all around pleading with him to stop throwing, but instead, out of frustration, he starts throwing larger and larger stones. If a bird dies, he just starts throwing harder. He has an inexhaustible supply of stones, and there is no end in sight to this bizarre pattern.

These lawmakers have never spent time down in the trenches. They have never had to stand by and watch a third grade girl pull her own hair out by the handfuls, because she so afraid of failing this giant test. Not because she cares about the grade, but because she knows that, even though the scores are kept “confidential,” everyone will know if she passed, because if you fail you’re put into a special reading group. And that will make her different.

These lawmakers have never had to find discreet ways of looking under a child’s long sleeves to see if he’s started cutting himself again. And they sure haven’t had to watch this same boy’s mom crumble into a sobbing mass when they tell her that it’s happening again.

These lawmakers have never had to use a translator to tell loving parents that their child, mostly because English isn’t spoken at home, is going to have to repeat the third grade. And then look across the table at the child and try to convince her that she isn’t stupid.

These lawmakers have never had to watch as the joy that should be daily in Kindergarten, is washed away with the promise of “better first grade readers.” Oh sure, it sounds great, but they are forcing teachers to use developmentally inappropriate testing with these small children.

What’s the bottom line for these lawmakers? It’s not quality education. It’s not brighter futures of the children of Texas. It’s not the mental and physical wellbeing of their constituents.

It’s Money.

The better we score on these tests, the more money the state gets. The more money the state gets, the more stones the lawmakers can buy for the old man.

I know Governor Perry recently led the charge for Texas to keep some of its educational autonomy by opting out of President Obama’s education program, but don’t let that fool you. We still get federal money. I could be wrong, but I’m pretty sure we didn’t turn down ALL of the federal funding.

So what can you and I do?

Scream.

Yell.

Make Noise.

Let the lawmakers know that we don’t like what’s happening…make them listen to us for a change.

Mine is only one small voice, but together maybe we can stop that old, blind man before he starts throwing boulders.

Thanks for listening,

Hugh

Backwards Epiphany

I was watching myself sleepily drag my brush through my hair in the mirror a few days ago when it occurred to me that I only ever see myself backwards.

Then I realized that the only way anyone ever sees himself or herself is in a mirror and that means backwards. Oh sure, I’ve seen myself in photographs and videos, but to be perfectly honest, I never look like I think I should. Quite possibly my dissatisfaction with my appearance in pictures may have something to do with the fact that to me the image is flipped.

And what about all those other people who hate having their picture taken? You know the ones. They’re always sticking their hands in front of their faces and yelling obscenities at the photographer. (Well, perhaps not all of them use obscenities, but you get the point) Maybe, they just don’t like seeing themselves backwards either!

Standing there half asleep, with my brain trying to soak this in, I start wondering about other things that look backwards to me. First, my hair is really parted on the other side. Next, my ring is really on the other hand. The little scar on my face is really on the other side. And the list goes on and on and on.

Then I began to wonder. Who’s really seeing backwards? Am I getting a backwards view of reality, or is reality getting a backwards view of me? Maybe my hair really is parted on the side I think it is, but you just can’t see it correctly.

That’s when I started to get worried. I mean what if it’s more than just the physical things about me other people are seeing in reverse.

Could it be that my whole world is backwards from reality?

Come to think of it, there have been times when I have deemed things to be funny, or cool, or stupid that other people have either failed to see the humor in, or simply considered to be no big deal, or thought they made perfect sense.

In these situations, who was right and who was backwards? Even as I’m writing that last sentence I’m forced to wonder, why can’t backwards be right?

Years ago I had a dyslexic child in my class about whom the district’s diagnostician said, “This child has the most sever case of dyslexia I have seen in 25 years of testing.” Bob didn’t know right from left, up from down or front from back. This poor guy didn’t know if he was coming or going.

With my new everything’s backwards quandary, I found myself thinking about Bob. I had to laugh when I thought about Bob in front of a mirror. I bet mirrors were Bob’s greatest fear.

But maybe, just maybe, they were his greatest joy. Maybe, for Bob, everything he saw in the mirror made perfect sense. Maybe he could do that “try to trace the star while looking in the mirror” thing better than anyone. Not because he saw things different, but because he saw them way they were really meant to be. For a brief moment, I started to envy Bob. However unlikely, there is a chance that he not only sees things differently, but maybe he sees them the way the way God intended. Who knows?

And there you have it, my backwards epiphany.

So what does this backwards epiphany mean? Your guess is as good as mine. I’m just writing things for you to read…

Or maybe you’re just reading things for me to write...

Record Breaking Snow

I've lived in Texas all my life and this is the first time I've seen it snow for 15 straight hours. That much snow creates a pretty impressive picture. Let me share a few with you.

Enjoy

A look out my garage

View from the street

I live in Dallas, Texas... my street is not supposed to look like this!

Tree in the backyard

I just liked this one

And finally, me in the snow

(Melissa thought I was crazy)

There's Just Something About A Quirky Kid

Over the last 16 years I’ve had every imaginable kind of kid in my class. I’ve had football stars, future head cheerleaders, and everything in between. And while I can’t think of a student who I couldn’t find something about to like, I’ve always had a soft spot in my heart for the quirky kids.

I’m not sure exactly why. Maybe it’s the fact that no one needs to be liked more that the a quirky kid. Maybe it’s because I just want to see that quirky tortoise beat that over-popular hare. Maybe I simply like to root for the underdog. Whatever the reason, I think I can identify with the quirky kid just a little bit better. Who knows why?

If the conversation turns to quirkiness, students I’ve really enjoyed teaching, or yes, even smart kids, my thoughts always turn to Miles.

Miles was in my class quite a few years ago. Miles is by far the quirkiest student I’ve ever had, he is also quite possibly the most gifted student I will ever have. I was drawn to him right from the start.

Miles came into my class with a wealth of knowledge that was light years ahead of most of his classmates, and in many cases, his teacher too. However, I truly believe that he was unaware of this fact. In his mind the game had a level playing field and he was just one of the players.

I’m not sure if I really ever taught Miles anything, with the possible exception of the lesson that stabbing one’s self in the leg with a pencil is NEVER a suitable self-punishment for misspelling a word. A stunt that he only pulled twice in my class, (both times on the first day of school) before we had a hallway heart to heart that was quite intense and to the point. (No pun intended)

I also don’t know if he knew he was a little different, but just didn’t care. Or if he had no idea, so it just didn’t matter. Either way, Miles marched to his own beat, but if you wanted to tag along, Miles was happy to have you along for the ride.

Miles’ dad was some sort of scientist, I think. He had a great sense of humor, an infectious laugh and was really fun to be around.

One time he volunteered to be the parent reader. Most parents brought picture books, or grade level appropriate novels, but oh no, not Mile’s dad. He brought a book about nuclear fusion. When I tried to tactfully question his choice of books he told me that this book was hilarious.

“You see,” he said, “this book was written so long ago that most of the concepts, that at the time were considered to be earth shattering revelations, have long since been proven to be false. Or, simply no longer have any real meaning in today’s nuclear world. We’re going to have a blast with this!”

I just nodded and sat back to watch the show.

Imagine, if you will, a room full of third and fourth graders sitting on the floor with a scientist and his child sitting in front of them. Both the father and child are reading from an outdated, college level, nuclear textbook, while the class is sitting there trying desperately to recognize even one word.

I was actually very proud of the whole class. You could have heard a pin drop. Their glazed eyes and vacant expressions said everything you needed to hear.

As it turned out, Miles pretty much had the entire book memorized. Occasionally he would blurt out something like, “Oh Dad! Flip over to chapter six where they talk about molecular co-adhesives of binomial fusion transformations!”

Then dad would say, “Oh yeah! That’s back on page 267! This is the funniest thing you’ve ever heard!”

He’d turn back, read the section, and father and son would be sitting there in tears. Meanwhile the class was hoping I would get the hint and put an end to the madness. But there was no way, because the three of us were having the time of our lives!

They were having fun poking fun at antiquated scientific theories that nobody else in the room, including me, had any hope of understanding. I was having a blast watching the other students squirm, drool and contemplate suicide.

In the end, a good time was had by all! (Well, maybe not the lesser-gifted 99.9% of the class, but only I was watching them.)

Like I said, there's just something about a quirky kid that calls to me. Maybe birds of a feather really do flock together. I don’t know.

What I do know is, if you’re a quirky kid, and your name is on my class list…then baby, you’ve found a home!

where's MY global warming???

I woke up this morning and the temperature was 11 degrees Fahrenheit. That’s around -11.667 degrees Celsius, and baby, that’s cold.

I live in Dallas Texas…it’s not supposed to be 11 degrees in Dallas Texas!

Now, before all you people up north start with your, “That’s not cold!” or “Come up here to Wiss-caan-sin, and we’ll show you cold!” Let me just say that, yes, it’s colder up there. However, that’s not what I’m talking about.

You see, I live in Texas. One thing I like about Texas is that we DON’T have days where the temperature is only 2 degrees above single digits. And we sure don’t have a full week with temperatures blow freezing!

And what about all this global warming talk? This morning, as I was letting the dog out to do her business, I had to use a stick to break through about a half-inch layer of ice on our fountain. I also had an ice/leaf glacier that had formed on the surface of the pool. It was kind of cool and I had fun playing continental drift, but that’s beside the point.

I’m beginning to wonder that this whole global warming thing wasn’t just some giant hoax masterminded by the Republicans and the Democrats so they would have something big to blame each other for.

All I know is it is 11 degrees Fahrenheit and my fountain is frozen, and my pool needs water, and I can’t add any water, because my hose is also frozen, and I’m cold and I don’t like it.

So where’s my global warming when I need it?

Russell to the Rescue

I’ve had many flat tires over the years.

On my first car, the 1974 Camaro, I burned a hole through the rubber trying to smoke the tires.

Thinking back, I can remember changing many a tire. When I was in college, I even had a blowout on 635, the LBJ Freeway here in Dallas. I pulled over and changed it right there on the highway. I’m lucky to be alive!

However, I haven’t had a flat in years. I’m a little embarrassed to admit that on my Trailblazer, while I know technically what has to be done to get the spare tire lowered, I don’t actually have any working knowledge about how to get the spare tire down from its little spare tire hideout.

Oh sure, I can work the jack and get the lug nuts off, and truth be known, given time and the opportunity, I could figure out the whole “tire lowering” thing.

But when it’s dark, and it’s raining, and you have a car full of loud ninth grade girls it is hard to have the mental skills necessary for that kind of mechanical problem solving. At least it is for me.

So you can imagine my shock and awe as my wife and I are driving our daughter and five of her friends home from Chili’s when we get a flat tire.

As it turns out, Russell, the dad of one of the girls, hops in his truck and comes to give me a hand. I was hoping Russell would at the very least have a flashlight, which he did. Russell also had a floor jack, a crossbar lug wrench, and he had a wealth of knowledge about how to lower the spare tire on a 2005 Chevrolet Trailblazer…. Go figure!

In the end the tire got changed, no girls got injured or even wet and I didn’t even get all that dirty. (Only because I let Russell do most of the work. After all, they were his tools!)

Yep, I’ve had many flat tires over the years.

Maybe next time I’ll be a little bit more like Russell...

First White Christmas

I’m 45 years old and I have never experienced a white Christmas…

that is until this year!

While it didn’t actually snow on Christmas day, it did snow Christmas Eve, and we did have snow on the ground on Christmas morning.

And baby, in my book that’s a white Christmas!

I got some pretty impressive pictures on both Christmas Eve and Christmas day.

See what you think.

So was my Christmas White?

You be the judge!

Funny Man

When you’re a guy who like to be funny, and you’re around people on a daily basis who think you are hilarious…well baby, you’ve got it made!

That’s how it is for me every single day. At least, that is, until summer vacation.

Never mind my audience is a room full of nine and ten year olds who aren’t allowed to boo or walk out. If you’re keeping your audience (captive or not) in stitches it’s great for a comic’s ego.

Sure, the adults in the building think I’m funny too, at least the hip adults do, but they aren’t my core audience.

You see, my crowd has a fascination with cooties, nose picking and bodily functions. All I have to do is ask someone to quit picking their nose, and the room explodes with laughter. It doesn’t matter if this person was actually picking, because the room still falls apart.

Truth be known, it actually works better if he or she wasn’t engaged in the afore mentioned behavior, because their violent protests create even more giggles.

Yep, I may only be a teacher, but I’m livin’ the stand-up comedian’s dream…