So, You Want To Go Where?

Anyone who knows my mother knows that she is very supportive of missionaries and missions. Any time a missionary would come to their church in Malakoff, Mom and Dad would make a new commitment to support them. Then, in the 90's, there was a push for nurses to accompany missionaries on short-term trips. Mom went on a trip like this to Mexico with her pastor and his wife (Gaylord & Fredna Brown). So, naturally, when people from her church in Conroe started talking about going on a missions trip to Haiti in November of this year, she wanted to go and the group wanted her to go, too.

Back when Mom went to Mexico with the Browns, it was during a time when a person could present a birth certificate at the border crossing and be OK to pass. In a post-911 world, that is such a thing of the past. She talked to the people who were organizing the trip at her church and they told her to get a passport, get the recommended vaccinations and everything should be fine. Well, yeah, it should be fine. But, when you consider gathering records for an 84 year-old woman, it can be tricky. Only now am I finding out just how tricky it is.

So, Mom tells me that she needs to get a passport. I tell her, "no problem. Do you have a birth certificate?"

"Yes," she says. "I used it when I went to Mexico."

"Perfect." I printed the application off the web, took her to the local Walgreen's to get her photo and went to the courthouse to submit the application. "Do you have your birth certificate?"

"Yes."

"Good." So off we go.

We get to the passport window at the courthouse, present the application, present the method of payment. It's going so well...until I see the birth certificate. It's a photocopy of a really worn looking original dated in 1945.

"Mom, is that the only copy you have of your birth certificate?"

"Yes."

"Oh boy."

The lady at the window gets everything together and explains that we can go ahead and submit the application with the birth certificate we have. The State Department will return the copy with a letter that says the birth certificate is unacceptable and we need to submit an acceptable document in its place. The lady says "it's as simple as that." She gives us the contact info for the courthouse in the county where Mom was born (Red River) and tells me to give them a call.

The next day I called Red River County. They had no record of my mom's birth certificate. "You might try Bowie County" the lady suggests. She was very nice and helpful.

I contact Bowie County, but they have no record, either. The lady I spoke to suggested contacting the Office of Vital Statistics in Austin and gave me the phone number.

I contacted Vital Statistics. The lady there suggests filling out an "Expedited Application." It costs a little more, but I should know something and hear back within 15 days. Their site did point out that birth records up to 70 years old were a bit more uniform and are more readily available than those that are older. It seemed like a safe proposition, even though Mom is 84. She's lived in Texas her entire life. At least , that was what I thought up until today...

We received a package from Vital Statistics. There was a letter from the lady I spoke to a little over a week ago. She said that they could not find a birth certificate for my mom and would need to compile more data to create her a new one. Along with the letter were more forms to fill out.

One of the forms calls for an older relative to fill it out and verify the vital statistics around the person's birth. Unfortunately for Mom, she is the oldest living relative in her family. The rest of the forms pretty much restate everything that was on the original birth certificate application. Great! I'll need to call and talk to the lady again.

If that wasn't enough, I checked Mom's email account and saw that the Department of State had responded to the passport application. As expected, they could not accept her birth certificate and we have up to 90 days to submit one that complies with their standards. We actually have to

It doesn't matter what we do, every little thing with Mom is an adventure. If we can get everything together for this trip, it will be a miracle. But, in her case, maybe a miracle isn't too much to ask.

Just When You Think It's Safe To Go Outside...

It should be no surprise to anyone who knows my mother that she is always meeting people. She has never met a stranger. As she gets older this is getting to be more challenging by the day. Today was one of those days I would have slept through if I had known it was coming...

When she and Dad moved to Conroe nearly 3 1/2 years ago, she went for walks, got lost and ended up getting rides home from perfect strangers. This happened several times and Danelle and I racked our brains about how to handle this problem. Mom was also driving then. She had a few places that she could go comfortably: church and Wal Mart. She got her purse stolen at one point and for the life of her, she could not comprehend that someone had taken her purse from her (it was taken from a shopping cart in the parking lot). To this day, she refers to her purse as being "lost." A few weeks later, she took a spill after driving to her church without her glasses and broke her hip and wrist. That effectively ended her driving adventures but opened up a whole world of escapades on foot.

My family and I are really blessed to be part of a wonderful church, the Vineyard Church of Conroe. We've been part of the church since it started 12 years ago and have lots of friends who live in our neighborhood. Since Mom stopped driving and started walking, our friends would call me all during the day to tell me that they just saw Mom here or there around town.

"Should I give her a ride?" they would ask.
You can ask her. Don't let it hurt your feelings if she says 'no.'"
"Is she OK?"
"Probably. If she's not, she'll let you give her a ride."

I think everyone is pretty well accustomed to seeing Mom around town now. At least I'm not getting the same worried calls anymore. She hasn't said anything about someone from my church stopping to give her a ride home from the store.

A few weeks ago, we had a rare evening at home and saw Mom leaving the house for a walk. She often will go out the gate on the side of the house if she doesn't want us to know what she's up to. About an hour later,  a car we didn't know pulled into our driveway. Mom gets out and introduces us to her new best friend. (Actually, she didn't count as a NEW best friend. Mom knew her from her church. We didn't know her.) Mom had walked about 3 or 4 miles to the local Walgreen's to pick up a prescription and ran into her friend who brought her home. We had to have a talk about that - considering we were at home and she didn't tell us anything. She's going to be 84 this week and she pretty well told us that she could handle herself. What else can we do?

Fast forward to this morning...

Mom mentioned to me yesterday that she met a nice family who had just moved to Conroe from Iowa. They live one street over and she invited them to go to our church.

"Great, Mom! I hope they come."

8 o'clock this morning, the doorbell rings. Everyone in our house is out cold from a late night. Our son, Chris, is in from Denton, so everyone was up late, visiting. My wife and I stagger to answer the door.

"Hello. I'm Don ... Your mom told me you need your trees trimmed away from your house."
"Uh, yeah. I guess so."
"Well, I thought I would come over to give you a bid."
"Sure, go ahead."

He walks around and Mom hasn't even emerged from her apartment. He sees what he needs and says he'll get back with the bid early next week. He shakes my hand and leaves. Mom comes outside.

"Mom, you didn't mention anything about talking to this guy about trimming the trees."
"Oh, yeah. He said he did that kind of work when he was in Iowa."
"Great. It would have been nice to let ME know that you had talked about trimming trees."
"Well, they need to get done."
"Can you just let me know when you talk to somebody about doing work around here?"
"Yes, I can."
"Excellent!"

It's Saturday, the only day I have to get stuff around the house done. My honey-do, gotta do and don't want to do lists are all getting pretty long. I had to get supplies from the local Lowes first. So, I get the stuff and come back. No sooner than I get back, Don shows up. He's got a chainsaw he just bought and a helper with him (Do you follow? Mom had already PAID Don for the work! He bought the chainsaw with some of the money.).

"Do you have a ladder?" Don asks.
"I've got a short step ladder."
"That'll work."

Before I know it, Don and his helper are walking on my roof, cutting down limbs. I'm watching while trying to work on one of my projects. Within a few minutes, the limbs around the house are down and the trees are no longer hanging over the roof. This might not be that bad after all. I just want them off the roof.

Then the helper says "how do I get down?"
"What?!" I said.
Don says "jump off the roof in the grass."
"Can you guys come down the way you went up?" I asked.
"I don't think so," the helper says. "I'm afraid I'll fall."
"Jump" Don says.
"Tell you what, let me go get a bigger ladder." I said

It took a few minutes to get the ladder, but I finally got the guys off the roof. They were saying they would need to come back later because they didn't have a  ladder and would have to borrow one to finish the trees over Mom's apartment. This ladder is a flexible extension ladder, so they could finish the job and get off my property. Finish, they did.

Nearly 5 hours later, the chainsaw is turned off and put away. Piles of limbs and branches are all over my front yard. I asked Don to include some MINOR trimming on our maple tree in our front yard. Somehow there was a lot more that "needed" to be cut than I anticipated. Most of the evening shade is gone - along with the two areas I originally asked to be trimmed. It doesn't look bad, but I'm thinking I'm going to miss that shade as we move on into the summer months.

"Do you have a place where we can put all these limbs until next week?"
"Not really. You've seen how much room I have in the back yard"
"OK, we'll have to haul it off in our car."

They proceed to pile the limbs and branches in the trunk of the car until they've hauled them all away. They must have made half a dozen trips to God knows where to dispose of them. But, at long last the damage is done and I shouldn't have to worry about trimming trees for at least the next 5 years or more.

I know I've spent a couple of hours writing these events out here. It's like therapy for me to allow myself to vent about this. I know at the heart of this matter, Mom saw a need and did her best to fill it. After getting over the shock of seeing my maple tree scalped, I've had time to get used to it. It has grown very fast since we've lived here. Now that it's been pruned like this, it should really come back strong and hopefully that shade will be back soon. And, we did get the trees trimmed around the house and those goofballs didn't fall off my roof. I suppose if Mom hadn't hired them, I would have spent the day mowing, seeding and watering my lawn and doing other types of yard work and wouldn't have such a bizarre story to tell. I'm just glad I can laugh about it now...

So, Happy Mothers' Day, Mom. I can only hope I can give you such a memorable day in return.

A Somber Birthday

This Saturday, May 19, will mark one year from what would be the last birthday my dad would celebrate on this earth. It's a good thing it was a wonderful day, too. Had he known it would be his last birthday, it couldn't have been any better.

My brother, my sister and I were all together under one roof for the first time in too many years to count. Each of our families were there. In the time since we were last together, the kids had grown up and had their own kids. A few of them were there together for the first time as adults. It was a momentous day! It could only be described as "perfect." We sprinkled in some of the cousins and their spouses, and Aunt Betty, too. We even had a video greeting from Dad's sister, the one and only Cheno Perkins. We took a lot of pictures and Dad was smiling and laughing in almost every one. We all did our share of laughing, too. It was a birthday just as Dad would have wanted it.

It would be only a few months later that Dad would leave us. His departure set off the list of all the "firsts" that would be without him. My wife and I were going to celebrate 20 years of marriage the next day, but we had to take a back seat while we made preparations. My birthday was a month and one day after his death, but it was hardly a celebration. Other birthdays and holidays came and went, like Thankgiving, Christmas and Easter. And now this...Every milestone serves as a reminder of who and what we lost.

To remember and celebrate our dad, my mom, brother and sister are all meeting at Carter Cemetery this Saturday, to see the grave markers that were set a little over a month ago - just in time for Dad's birthday. I'm sure Dad would like what we picked. The headstone has a cowboy kneeling at a cross with his horse behind him, and the words "Beloved husband, father and grandfather" at the top. His foot stone draws attention to the fact that he participated in arguably the greatest conflict of the 20th Century, in one of the most distinguished units in the second world war - the 101st Airborne. He might think it's "a bit too much." I think anyone who knows and appreciates what he, and other men like him, did for this country, they would say "it's not nearly enough."

There's something about being a place where he knew he wanted to be one day. And on this first birthday without Dad, I'm sure we'll all laugh and cry and remember the things that made him so special to us. I suspect I will make the trip up to that old cemetery more and more in the coming years, though I won't dare speak for my siblings. It's really important that we be there this weekend for him. It will make us that much more grateful for what we had, on the same day, just one year before.

Dad Just Couldn't Wait

It's hard to believe that we're a few days away from Christmas. It's been like we went into some sort of time warp when Dad left us 3 months ago. It still seems like he should be here even though we all know he's gone. In my mind, it seems like it should still be September. The Christmas lights and decorations are a vivid reminder that time has moved on. It's been a blur getting to this time of the season. One thing is for certain, Mom has definitely kept herself busy.

A few weeks after Dad passed away, Mom went to spend a couple of weeks in Victoria with my sister Vicki and her family. Vicki's daughter, Anitra, and her family live in the same neighborhood. So, with each visit, there is a guarantee that there will be a lot of time spent with Mom and her great-grandkids.

The youngest, Mason, was born nearly a year ago while Dad was in in-patient physical rehabilitation in the Woodlands. His birth was a major motivator for Dad to complete his recovery program for his broken hip. Dad couldn't travel until his rehabilitation was over. The only way it would completely end was for Dad to be independent enough to walk with a walker and perform basic tasks by himself. Dad was plenty motivated. He would often say that Mason would be half-grown before he would get to see him. By mid February, Dad got the OK and he and Mom were off to Victoria for a two-week stay. There were a lot of pictures of Dad and Mason taken during that time.

Since Dad passed away, Mom has been to Victoria twice. On her first visit, she stayed with my sister while my brother-in-law was out of town. "Your daddy wouldn't want her to be there at home, by herself," she said. Then, on Mom's last visit, she was enlisted to read and visit with patients in an in-patient rehab facility there. That opportunity is available for her any time she goes to Victoria for a visit.

Prior to Dad's passing, he and I were making plans to be part of the Lone Star Honor Flight's Final Flight, a road trip to the Museum for the Pacific War, in Fredericksburg, Texas on December 7, Pearl Harbor Day. He and I went on Lone Star Honor Flight 5 to Washington in 2010, so it was only fitting to make this trip. Originally, when he was notified  of the trip, he said that Mom couldn't go. In the weeks prior to his passing, Dad talked fondly of his trip to Washington and was looking forward to the trip to Fredericksburg. But, as we know now, it was not to be.

 

 

On Veterans Day this year, I took Mom to the Montgomery Junior High Veterans Program. The school has put on this program for many years. Both Mom and Dad attended last year's program. At this year's program, they were promoting the road trip to Fredericksburg and they had expanded the trip to allow spouses to attend along with Veterans. So, Mom and I made plans to go in Dad's place.

 

 

The trip itself consisted of some 130 Veterans, 80 spouses and 110 guardians on 6 buses. We departed from the Montgomery High School Athletic Complex around 6:15 AM. The temperatures were in the 30s. Mom and I commented to each other about how Dad would have responded to the cold. "He probably would have decided not to go," Mom said. "Well, he did go to that playoff game in Conroe last year when it was so cold," I told her. (We had to get extra blankets to cover him with and I gave him my over-sized hoodie to wear with everything else he had on. He was a good sport about it, but there's no doubt that he would have preferred to be indoors.) Mom and I wore buttons with one of Dad's pictures from his flight a year and a half ago. We were going in his place, since he couldn't wait to go with us.

Tidbits

It's hard to believe it's been 2 weeks since Dad passed away. Everything happened SO fast. Time has been relentless since. I wanted to write while everything was happening, but everything seemed to be spinning and I couldn't concentrate. I've been wanting to write about the various moments that make up what memories I have of the last two weeks before I forget them forever. I couldn't really wait any longer. So, good, bad or ugly...here they are...

I wrote previously about taking Dad to the hospital. Those few minutes were some of the most terrifying of my entire life. Looking back, I'm really grateful that I could be there with him in those closing minutes of his life. I sort of feel like Forest Gump when he tells about the passing of his friend, Bubba Blue...had I known that would be our last car ride together, I would have come up with something better to say or just something comforting to say while we were on our way to the hospital. But, I didn't. I did get to tell him it was no trouble to take him where he needed to go as we were getting in the car. I guess as far as that is concerned, I'll have to be content that I was with him at the end.

Oddly enough, when we arrived at the Conroe Regional Hospital ER, I saw somebody at the entrance I'd not seen in months. If you attend the Vineyard Church of Conroe, you'll remember the name "Becca-Boo." For those who didn't have the privilege, Becca-Boo attended our church for a while. She was baptized during one of our services, which was really neat. I wasn't there that Sunday, but I would have given anything to have seen her go under the water. She is better known for saying some of the most awkward or inappropriate things at the most awkward times during our church services. She once sat with me and my parents at our church's 1st Sunday Lunches. I got up to get my folks some coffee and when I got back to the table, my parents were straight-faced and slightly blushed. Becca-Boo was just being herself, just laughing and talking. They told me later that she told them a joke that neither of them would repeat. That's how she was. I've not seen the lady in don't know when. But, when I drove up to the ER with Dad two weeks ago, there she was...sitting in a wheel chair, waiting for a ride and smoking a cigarette. She heard me when I got out of the car, asking for help to get Dad inside."Y'all help this man!" I don't believe in coincidences. I don't understand why Becca-Boo was there that night. She didn't do anything signficant, that I can tell, except maybe to get a laugh out of me.

Once Dad had been pronounced dead, Mom and I were invited into the room where the doctors and technicians had been working to revive him. I haven't been around many bodies in my life and I often avoid viewings and wakes. It was awkward at first when we walked in the room, but after a while it was clear that we were going to have to wait there, with Dad - in state . Eventually, we got a call from the funeral director from the funeral home in Malakoff who would make the arrangements for Dad's funeral. He told me that a local undertaker was coming to take care of Dad's body for the night. I thought he would be there within a few minutes. Those few minutes turned into a couple of hours. Fortunately, Mom & Dad's pastor from Conroe, Lloyd Maddoux was there with us, along with our friends, Raymond & Bobby McDonald and Frank Jackson. They definitely helped us pass the time. When the undertaker finally arrived, he asked if we wanted to take a few moments with Dad's body before he took it and left. Bobby & Raymond had already left for the night. Pastor Maddoux said a prayer with us and left, too. Frank led Mom & me in a prayer and sang the song "Surely The Presence of the Lord is in This Place" with us. I'll never hear that song the same way again. For a moment, that emergency room became a chapel. The feeling I felt in that moment is something I hope I never forget.

Dad was a cowboy. He wore cowboy boots and hats as long as I can remember, but had to stop wearing boots within the last several years because he had trouble walking in them. But, everything he had was western, in one way or another. So, when we were getting things together, what would portray that part of his personality? I popped off at one point that if Dad had his say, he'd prefer to just be buried in a pine box. But, when we walked in the parlor at Tomlinson Funeral Home, there was this stained wood casket that had "cowboy" all over it. We picked it and felt better about it the more we looked at and discussed it. Then, as the icing on the cake, we decided that we wouldn't put flowers on the casket. Instead, we wanted to put his cowboy hat, propped up on his Bible. Then, we propped up the old cane that Dad liked to use on the side of the casket. It was painted by my daughter Anna with aqua on the shaft and brown on the handle. The paint would peel and flake off and wasn't a lot to look at. What's more, Dad had all kinds of canes given to him since he began having difficulty when walking. But, he would prefer THAT cane over all of them every time. The arrangement, the wood casket, the cowboy hat, Bible and the cane, were just "him."

If there was anything that Dad was adamant about, it was that he did NOT want his funeral to be held in a funeral chapel. ABSOLUTELY NOT! His funeral would be in a church. The fine people at Malakoff First Assembly of God were more than happy to fulfill our request. In fact, Pastor Tommy Hayes said "well, if you're going to have the funeral there, you might as well have the visitation there, too." It made sense really, Malakoff First Assembly was the other place where Dad spent most of his time over the past 25 years. Once he retired, in 1986, Malakoff First Assembly was the beneficiary of Dad's free time. He didn't have any hobbies necessarily. He would just go to the church. He mowed the church yard. He helped with work that needed to be done. He was one of the 12 Disciples in an Easter production once. He was also a shepherd in the living nativity during the Christmas Holidays. It was only fitting that Dad would lie in state in the only church he ever belonged to.

Dad was a church board member for a long time. When I was born in 1968, he had been on the church board AT LEAST 10 years. When a person is on a church board that long, they get to know a lot of preachers. Dad knew a LOT of preachers. His son-in-law, CE Smith is a preacher. Billy Paul Cain, our neighbor of several years, is a preacher. His grandson, Johnny, is a preacher. Tommy Hayes said tried to count the preachers that Dad served on the board. There were 7 in my lifetime alone. So, it was only fitting to have 4 of his most current pastors represented at the service.

Lloyd Maddoux, Mom & Dad's pastor from Conroe was present; Ken Jones, who was in Malakoff for 12 or so years, was present; Tommy was present and Gaylord Brown, who is currently serving in Malawi as a missionary, sent in a letter to be read during the service in his absence. During the service, Tommy opened and closed in prayer and made a few comments. Dad apparently had spoken to him at some critical junctions in his life and Tommy recalled them to those present. Ken Jones read the obituary and made a few comments. He likened Dad to a pillar. That's what he was in that little church. Lloyd Maddoux spoke of the past year and half that Dad and Mom had attended his church. He said he and Dad talked about squirrel hunting and that they were talking about going hunting nearly every time they saw each other. Pastor Maddoux read Gaylord Brown's letter, which referenced talks that he and Dad had, when Dad told him things he hadn't told anyone else. CE preached the sermon and told several stories of his recollections of life as Dad's son-in-law. John Miller led the congregational singing, which included the songs "He is Here," "Surely the Presence of the Lord is in This Place," and "Holy Ground" along with the hymns "Living By Faith" and "When We All Get To Heaven." I spoke to Mom afterward and we agreed, the service was just what Dad would have liked - beginning to end.

A few months ago, at the urging of my wife, I sat down with Mom and Dad to discuss their wishes for their funerals. Dad told me that he wanted to be buried in Carter Cemetary, an old, small cemetery near a little community called Walnut Springs, where he grew up, just south of Canton, TX. Dad's first wife, Faye, is buried there. So are his parents and grand-parents, his brother, Conis and his wife, Eunice, as well as other aunts, uncles, cousins and various distant relatives.

It's been years since any of our family had been to the cemetery.  Everyone remembered the place, but no one really remembered how to get to it. It is about 30 miles from Malakoff, so we decided to have lunch before everyone went to the cemetery. When it came time to leave, the procession took off and my family and I were bringing up the rear. Before we arrived to the first turn off, I started getting phone calls...first, from my brother, then my sister, then my neice, and my nephew. "Where is this place?!" Everyone was lost. Surprisingly, I drove right to the cemetery without getting lost. After several phone calls, I gave the rest of the family directions and they were able to finally make it. We finally had the graveside service and everyone said their goodbyes and left. As we were getting things ready to leave, I couldn't help but think that with all the confusion in trying to find the old cemetery, Dad must have been looking down and laughing at all the confusion. It was all so appropriate and fitting. It was exactly what he would have liked.

A Moment in Time

**Caution...this entry might be a bit too graphic for some to read.**
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We didn't see it coming. None of us did.

When I went to my parents' apartment Tuesday night, I had no idea I would be spending my final moments with my father, Haynes Cecil Knox.

Jessie came to our house and told me to go check on Haynes. He said he was "feeling funny in his chest, arms and back." Those symptoms are never good ones. I was thinking we were in for a long night. I had no idea what was in store.

"OK. I need to change clothes first." I went to my room and changed clothes. Jessie went to the apartment and came back with her blood pressure machine. Jessica went to the apartment to get a couple of pizzas from her grandparents' freezer.

"Hey, Pop!"

"Hey, Doll!"

Back in our house, "it probably just needs batteries." I got a couple of batteries and PRESTO! We went out and I proceeded to take Haynes' blood pressure. After 3 tries, it appeared on the higher side of normal for Haynes, but not drastically abnormal.

"I think we should still go to the hospital, Dad."

"I don't want to go. I don't want to go and be there for some 3 or 4 days." I didn't realize it then, but he was giving me a clue. He knew the signs, as well as how he felt. This was going to be "it."

"Maybe. Maybe not. We need to get this checked out." Haynes conceded and started getting himself together. I grabbed a couple of sandwiches to eat while he got ready.

Once he was ready, he started getting in the wheelchair. I turned and moved his walker out of the way and did something I never would do...I folded it up and placed it in a corner out of the way in the apartment. As I did, I got a sense that I would not be getting the walker back out of the corner. I didn't take time to reflect on that thought, though. I just took Haynes to the car to get him loaded up.

As we were getting ready to get in the car, Haynes spoke the last words I would hear him speak in this life: "Joel, I appreciate you doing this. I just hate to be a bother."

I responded "Dad, this is no bother. I want to make sure you're OK."

With that, he started climbing into the car. As he did, he struggled to get in his seat. I help him in the rest of the way and closed the door. I loaded the wheelchair and we were on our way.

Right now, Conroe has to be one of THE most difficult towns to navigate in the north Houston area thanks to a LOT of construction around I-45. More recently, old Hwy 75 or Frazier Street, has been quite rough due to a re-surfacing project. I took Frazier so we could avoid traffic and sudden stops along I-45 but forgot about the uneven lanes and jarring bumps and holes in the road's surface. In spite of my attempts to avoid them, it seemed that Haynes felt every bump along the way. He was constantly shifting and adjusting himself in the seat. It was with great relief that we finally got off Frazier and turned toward the freeway and the hospital.

Haynes was still shifting in his seat when we came to the red light just before the freeway. I was looking up at the red light and saw out of the corner of my eye a quick, jerking motion. I turned to see my hero gripping the car handle with one hand and clutching his chest with the other. His head was leaned back and his eyes began to roll back in his head. I wouldn't realize until several hours later that at this point, at the red light at Gladstell and the northbound feeder of I-45, Haynes had departed this life for the next.

In the days since, I've gone back over the events that happened around 7:15 PM on September 13th. I've come to believe that Haynes had an idea of what was happening to him. When I think about how he's had to struggle to do everything - from putting on his clothes, to getting in and out of a chair or their car to just walking across the floor to grab a bite to eat or prepare for bed, it is easy to find comfort in knowing that at that moment, in that place, the struggle was finally over.

She Never Meets A Stranger...Really!

Jessie has been talking about needing to exercise ever since she and Haynes moved here a year and a half ago. Mom's determination to remain active has been troublesome at times. 

A few weeks after they moved to Conroe, Jessie decided that she wanted to go for a walk and explore the neighborhood. Unfortunately, she wasn't too familiar with the neighborhood and got turned around within a couple of blocks away from our house. It didn't help that she had taken off about 30 minutes before dark, either. So, there she was, about a half-mile from our house, lost and in the dark. It just so happened that a "nice young couple" drove by and noticed that she looked confused. They stopped and asked her if they could give her a ride. They brought her home just as we were starting to search for her. She's gotten more familiar with the neighborhood since and before it started getting so hot, she would get out and walk nearly every evening.

Since March of this year, my family and I have started going to the local community recreation center to work out. Jessie wanted to see what the "Rec Center" was all about and went with us to take a "test drive" in the workout room. She decided to get her own membership and start going with us to exercise. Tonight was her first night.

It's often been said about Jessie that she's never met a stranger. Well, tonight it was literally proved true. Jessie finished her work out and was waiting for my wife and I to finish up. She struck up a conversation with a lady working out on a machine close by. In the course of conversation, they discovered they shared the same birthday. But, the fascinating part was that as they continued talking, Mom mentioned that she and Haynes had moved to Conroe from Malakoff, Texas. 

"Where?" the lady asked.

"Malakoff, Texas." Jessie replied.

"Well, I grew up in Malakoff, Texas and in Trinidad." She proceeded to tell of her family who lived in the Malakoff, Trinidad and Cross Roads area. She spoke of her grandparents who lived in Trinidad as well as her parents who are buried in the Trinidad Cemetery. She talked about attending the "Old Rock School" as a child, before she and her family moved to the Houston area for her dad's work. She said that she and her family have attended homecoming festivities in both Malakoff and Trinidad for years and only stopped going when less and less of their family were still in the area.

I couldn't believe it. But, then again, what did expect? The woman never meets a stranger!