tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1164157341873286792024-03-14T05:02:53.991-07:00The Way I See ItEntertainment News, Music, Television, Concert Tours, Opinions, Humor, Life Tributes & Legacies, Flotsam & JetsamDawn Lee Wakefieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04820422116291835694noreply@blogger.comBlogger220125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-116415734187328679.post-2967689714908330822023-11-24T23:47:00.000-08:002023-11-25T00:45:48.273-08:00Giving Thanks for Renn Carson and His Music<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkAiNvNDgxRiXTUxugbFcwIafbUOl_tCoCUhgBqC07WXVANaEW_Q8NyOWz3eveUmFdpUEADfTDAN0tlmQZwsbsF2ckz5or69RtkoMIX3o166hlZbq_Ug6jHe8x1Ag-IkvuXAHTe8hYCnoVfO4Fu4xhcYIBHeEzehzr97m45lBiGMlgesjJBncpSCM9Xd3a/s548/final.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; clear: left; float: left;"><img alt="" border="0" height="320" data-original-height="548" data-original-width="308" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkAiNvNDgxRiXTUxugbFcwIafbUOl_tCoCUhgBqC07WXVANaEW_Q8NyOWz3eveUmFdpUEADfTDAN0tlmQZwsbsF2ckz5or69RtkoMIX3o166hlZbq_Ug6jHe8x1Ag-IkvuXAHTe8hYCnoVfO4Fu4xhcYIBHeEzehzr97m45lBiGMlgesjJBncpSCM9Xd3a/s320/final.jpg"/></a></div>
If you’ve been part of music in the Brazos Valley, audience or performer, you know Renn Carson, not by his words as much as by his consistent presence during specific decades in live performance, especially when there was a call for a stellar blues guitar. <p>
A true blues performer has lived what they play—extreme highs and lows—that reflect the way the music business goes. You hope for the best and you tolerate the worst until you can turn life around and get back on track. And you keep on playing through it all.
<p>
To write one word about Renn, there are always two words that follow: "and Connie" as the Carsons did virtually everything in life and love together, including music.<p> If Renn was playing, Connie was in the audience, there for load in and loud out and sound check in between, quietly by his side, sharing his passion for music that gave him the fuel to keep on pursuing that which he loved in life. He was a man truly powered by music, fueled by love for his Connie, and the result was a joy to hear. Hence, "Renn and Connie." This photo is just one of many beautiful memories throughout their life together (borrowed from Connie's FB page). Sadly, we lost Renn on November 11, 2023, the eldest child and brother to his sister, Nancy, and his brother, Hank.
<P>
As expected, the historic but modest St. Andrew’s Episcopal Church ran out of sanctuary seating on Tuesday afternoon, November 21, despite pulling in every folding chair, or ushering friends and loved ones into the adjoining church parlor for the overflow crowd who’d gathered to pay their respects to the family and memory of their beloved Renn—born into this world of Bryan, Texas, as James Renner Carson on April 20, 1953, to parents Edward Carson and Barbara Renner Lyles.
<p>
Part of the world that Renn created around him the past 70 years flowed into St. Andrew’s as others watched via livestream on St. Andrew’s YouTube channel. Yes, much of it was his church family; and others were his music family. And yet, it wasn’t the full world that Renn created. For all of the years he performed music as a guitarist and an ambassador of music to others, Renn made a world of friends everywhere he went.
<p>
Renowned musician Ruthie Foster, longtime family to Renn and Connie, put her broken heart on hold while she offered songs of healing, of love, and faith in honor to the man who was an integral part of her earliest days as an accomplished musician. As Kathleen Phillips and another friend, Ramona, shared words of comfort, and as the congregation shared the words of the 23rd Psalm, the voices present united once more in the beauty of scripture that continues to bring reassurance to all who hear it.
<p>
Ruthie said, “I talk through my music like Renn always did. I looked at him as my brother. He was always there to hold me close through good times and bad times and now we can take him everywhere. Right, Connie?” With Tanya Richardson on fiddle and Scotty Miller on keys, Ruthie sang “Go Rest High On That Mountain,” a song that preached to us as she reminded us that Renn’s work on Earth was done.
<p>
Rev. Daryl Hay of St. Andrew’s offered a homily that included a quote attributed to St. Augustine, “The one who sings prays twice.” He also shared the words of Kurt Vonnegut, <p>
<blockquote></blockquote>“Music is, to me, proof of the existence of God. It is so extraordinarily full of magic, and in tough times of my life I can listen to music, and it makes such a difference.”<blockquote></blockquote>
<P>
While he was on Earth, Renn created a performance portfolio that any music professional would be honored to have. The groups in which he was an important part for as long as he chose to be there included the Blue Gravel Rock Band, The Rock-a-Fellas Band, The Blue Note All-Stars, The King Bees, Eugene Eugene and the Solid Foundation, and headliners including Bryan-born Grammy winner, Donald Ray Johnson, Nat Dove, Sunny Nash, and of course, Ruthie Foster, five-time Grammy nominee.
<p>
The one thing to focus on is not the fame or the acclaim of the performers listed, but instead the joy and the peace having the chance to perform with these outstanding musicians brings wherever and whenever they gathered.
<p>
Renn was part of an early configuration of <a href="https://rockafellasband.com/" target="_blank">The Rock-a-Fellas Band</a>. The band has always been gently fluid, with each member contributing their best when they could all intersect their schedules and good times were waiting. Band members include Donnie Angonia, Donnie Wilson, Heath Allyn, Craig Knight, and at different times there you’d find Tim Rogers, Renn Carson, Mike Holleman and others.
<p>
Eugene Eugene and the Solid Foundation Band had a strong following early on for playing local gigs. They blazed a path for some good local blues although the smaller city of Navasota, 20 miles up the road, was far more known for their annual blues festivals. Yet, it takes a town and a venue like Bryan’s Palace Theatre being renovated to establish a place for the blues, and for a few years, the Bryan Blues Festival committee was able to put events together that were popular and well attended. In June 2012, this group featured Eugene Smith, Ernest Gibbs, Renn Carson, James Gibbs, and Ralph Moncivais and the band not only performed their own set, they <a href="https://insitebrazosvalley.com/arts-culture/blues-festival-kicks-tonight-downtown-bryan/" target="_blank">backed</a> other Bryan legends Donald Ray Johnson, Dr. Nat Dove, and Sunny Nash.
<p>
Sharing a photo credited to Ernest TK Gibbs (borrowed from his FB page) from a performance in College Station:
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjuZcPuF1pwecicnT3cuDNsca4q-xpbDITc9r2oWNI40k71l4nAW5E-HB8Z2eOuJLBRRRCO9jCsKvKbvEcqmwKwPL4QMtYCGXQU927C5mh6KVUH0BOQtWxxbWc92Han4D6u_s3S54xEeWdG1w1RAqUkA7OoTBt3QA3luIN2IoxITxLzn2DmwsMP3dRcGv_/s2048/Renn%20Carson%20Eugene%20Smith.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; clear: right; float: right;"><img alt="" border="0" width="320" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjuZcPuF1pwecicnT3cuDNsca4q-xpbDITc9r2oWNI40k71l4nAW5E-HB8Z2eOuJLBRRRCO9jCsKvKbvEcqmwKwPL4QMtYCGXQU927C5mh6KVUH0BOQtWxxbWc92Han4D6u_s3S54xEeWdG1w1RAqUkA7OoTBt3QA3luIN2IoxITxLzn2DmwsMP3dRcGv_/s320/Renn%20Carson%20Eugene%20Smith.jpg"/></a></div>
<p>
This was a fundraiser for Stillcreek Ranch in 2017, held at the Benjamin Knox Gallery. Wherever good works were in progress, you could find Eugene Eugene and the Solid Foundation to bring a crowd.<p>
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And sharing a photo from the 2013 Bryan Blues Festival, showing the band backing singer Sunny Nash, as they did for Nat Dove and Donald Ray Johnson, thanks to Renn's FB page here. Below:
Sharing a 2013 video with Donald Ray Johnson (previously, drummer in A Taste of Honey) including Ernest TK Gibbs, James Gibbs, and Ralph Moncivais, where Renn is slightly hidden behind the camera, but you can catch his guitar stands out in “Rainy Night in Georgia.”
<iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/r98XwzvqTW4?si=Hf7mp4G2-_vvsNbT" title="YouTube video player" frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen></iframe>
<p>
In more recent years, circa 2016, you could catch Renn in concert locally performing with the band <a href="https://kingbeesoftexas.wordpress.com/about-the-king-bees/" target="_blank">The King Bees</a>, together with guitarist/vocalist Jason Gabbard, bassist Dan Peterson, and drummer Mark Esman. Their bio once noted that Renn came in runner-up for first place in a seventh-grade talent show, playing the blues. That was also about the last time that Renn came in second to anyone for musical anything, to be sure.
<P>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhY_k3vFYTZKEnZsOkgQmxQy0Rwncsvwt-4ecy5VZl3U9oUsx5CN1sxHOHyX5mRszoBPC0FlSck7lNAAWwPh3ol4DkfmSY66p7LcAyKL9T0nLksFgqrUv863OZAQhK8pGkqRRrNha4nDdONPciv_ruzFBGkx1mwotG5CukgvYzlPqMKDN1rvf2xHM-bHD6/s1968/dlee-kingbees2.jpeg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="320" data-original-height="1140" data-original-width="1968" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhY_k3vFYTZKEnZsOkgQmxQy0Rwncsvwt-4ecy5VZl3U9oUsx5CN1sxHOHyX5mRszoBPC0FlSck7lNAAWwPh3ol4DkfmSY66p7LcAyKL9T0nLksFgqrUv863OZAQhK8pGkqRRrNha4nDdONPciv_ruzFBGkx1mwotG5CukgvYzlPqMKDN1rvf2xHM-bHD6/s320/dlee-kingbees2.jpeg"/></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS1Cr7Ed7kd9QQMhPpOaYoIAEj343F0NnRJsi1nIW_5vhR0xBFJmAtu2yFRIv6GC83q4EPpkRzXwXCjzK1YbHHbnEEu2Wuyzr1lyRkkJF2Y7_JFTDLiMoPO34tQyV0NZnJdvnOlr4-patc4bu89zmh75bSKUuCoB0X1ktuna_u7ZgaY4QLZjaHcclrSR8O/s2524/dlee-KingBees3.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="320" data-original-height="1584" data-original-width="2524" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS1Cr7Ed7kd9QQMhPpOaYoIAEj343F0NnRJsi1nIW_5vhR0xBFJmAtu2yFRIv6GC83q4EPpkRzXwXCjzK1YbHHbnEEu2Wuyzr1lyRkkJF2Y7_JFTDLiMoPO34tQyV0NZnJdvnOlr4-patc4bu89zmh75bSKUuCoB0X1ktuna_u7ZgaY4QLZjaHcclrSR8O/s320/dlee-KingBees3.jpg"/></a></div>
<p>
[Special thanks to Rhonda Brinkmann, Wordsmiths4U, for The King Bees photos.]
<p>
As the funeral service came to a close on Tuesday, Ruthie offered the perfect song, one from her most recent (Grammy-nominated) album (“Healing Time”), called “Feels Like Freedom,” which was fitting and perfect to sing Renn right into the gardens of Heaven, reunited with all he’d been waiting to see once again, the promise of which we are reassured. You can hear her sing at the 31:32 mark in this Facebook video:
<p><a href="https://www.facebook.com/saintandrewsbcs/videos/852761352957791" target="_blank">https://www.facebook.com/saintandrewsbcs/videos/852761352957791</a>
<p>
“The sun is comin' up again<p>
Those winds of change are blowin' in<p>
And I know<p>
Yes, I know<p>
It feels like freedom<p>
Been a long and lonely road<p>
But I'm finally comin' home<p>
And oh<p>
Oh, yeah<p>
It feels like freedom”<p> [Words and music by Ruthie Foster, Healing Time 2022]
<p>
It’s not every day that we have to give up a friend far sooner than we’d have imagined, but for as long as we live and love people and let them into our lives to stay, there comes a point by which we have to give them back to the Lord, from where they came. So often we say, “Gone too soon,” or “We didn’t have enough time” or any other lament that tries to describe the loss that we feel. Still, we have recordings, videos, and a ton of memories to share and preserve.
<p>
Another “Renn gem” can be found on SoundCloud, posted by user WMHarps a few days ago, “Richland City Blues,” featuring Ruthie Foster, Renn on guitar, and Tim Moyer on harmonica. Check it out here: <a href="https://soundcloud.com/user-248647677/richland-woman-blues" target="_blank">https://soundcloud.com/user-248647677/richland-woman-blues</a>
<p>
Finally, a special dialogue between musicians Renn and Ruthie takes place in the song, “Turn Me On,” from Foster’s 2004 album, “Stages.” As Ruthie sings/says, “Alright, Renn Carson, show me what you got here,” and Renn took flight on one of his solos, the audience loved it because the man with soul spoke loudly. Ruthie then said, “I believe, I believe he’s got something else to say,” and indeed he did. That’s the way it was often, for Renn on stage. He did his best talking with his guitar and frankly, after he played, it was enough said.
<p>
Check it out on <b>Spotify</b>: <a href="https://open.spotify.com/track/10SEd96D8W30Jme0VjV1Ez" target="_blank">https://open.spotify.com/track/10SEd96D8W30Jme0VjV1Ez</a>
<p>
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<p>
Beyond high school graduation, Renn attended Blinn College and went on to have a long professional career, including working at Agency Management Services (AMS), where many musicians held prolific day jobs so they could play the music they loved at night. Things came naturally to Renn, and he was beyond gifted in so many things he did. He loved his high school sweetheart, Connie Pittman, and they were married over 49 years. He appreciated the simple times and complex puzzles of life.
<p>
Family, above all, meant the world to him. Their son Chris and his wife Kasie and their daughter Nikki and her husband Jim brought them three grandchildren, who were the lights of his life. Together they were key parts of organized cookouts and races to benefit the Relay for Life of Brazos Valley for the American Cancer Society, but that was just one more aspect of the quiet goodness of Renn and his family. Anything they could do as a family—that was what was important to them.
<p>
If you knew Renn well, you knew he spoke volumes with his heart. Music filled his heart, his love of Connie and his family fueled his soul, and you can rest assured that the Lord has him in safekeeping until the “rest of his band” joins him in Heaven. Meanwhile, the famous band in “rock and roll Heaven” just gained one heckuva blues player.
<p>
And, as Ruthie sings and Renn plays, and the beloved, precious children dance in front of the stage together with the late Samantha Banks and iconic Larry Fulcher on bass, the secret to life is knowing when to compromise….” Here it is, for Renn with great respect, Ruthie’s “Full Circle,” with his amazing notes.
<p>
Renn's circle of life is now complete. Well done, thou good and faithful servant, Renn. Amen and amen.
<p>
<iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/z4fPDMhU5VA?si=MK0hDtaFE1NhmU4a" title="YouTube video player" frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen></iframe>
<p>
<b>Additional videos:</b>
<p>
<b>With Ruthie Foster<i></i></b>
<iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/dC1NWirjD6U?si=kTDJ-ZIFdZFiZB7a" title="YouTube video player" frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen></iframe><p>
<iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/m7wygawtbLc?si=AGL9fgnB2RzPhQTB" title="YouTube video player" frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen></iframe><p>
<iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/FbekgY0FrRI?si=H2QL6c76HQ3A53e3" title="YouTube video player" frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen></iframe>>p>
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Photo May 4, 2017, from Connie's FB Page
Dawn Lee Wakefieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04820422116291835694noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-116415734187328679.post-46312817494502276452023-09-25T18:28:00.011-07:002023-09-25T19:48:08.772-07:00Actor David McCallum Dead at 90—U.N.C.L.E.’s Illya and NCIS’s Ducky Has Crossed the Pond<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQxGIhnrg_rgnXtM0wUMPgHNyFyEkqPMO3OqwM3pF0w-5z-OD4__661A34DIlaX0Q4m14qBYUfo19in21vniOGMRK5RVSmJvMTGkOcf2Yh36hyfHVTePavuoPbyLy4dia_fRvytj383M7MOuZQrDCSy5gzh7cx3Izxim0ylb7aCE5fKhXdOEBt24TjGo-Y/s480/111489_0246b3.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; clear: left; float: left;"><img alt="" border="0" height="320" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQxGIhnrg_rgnXtM0wUMPgHNyFyEkqPMO3OqwM3pF0w-5z-OD4__661A34DIlaX0Q4m14qBYUfo19in21vniOGMRK5RVSmJvMTGkOcf2Yh36hyfHVTePavuoPbyLy4dia_fRvytj383M7MOuZQrDCSy5gzh7cx3Izxim0ylb7aCE5fKhXdOEBt24TjGo-Y/s320/111489_0246b3.jpg"/></a></div>Twenty years ago this week, Donald Bellisario’s and Don McGill’s genius ensemble called “NCIS” premiered on CBS, a shot-in-the-dark gamble of a series based on a complex character of a determined yet troubled Marine, Leroy Jethro Gibbs with Mark Harmon as lead. McCallum was also included on the two-part story on Bellisario’s “JAG,” where the character originated.(Photo permission, CBS Press Express)
<p>
Harmon, still a young unknown, had come to their attention thanks to his four-episode role as Allison Janney’s love interest in “The West Wing.” To make “NCIS” come alive, with gravitas, Bellisario knew he could count on David McCallum to be the perfect counterpart to Gibbs, as medical examiner Dr. Donald “Ducky” Mallard.
<p>
Who better than the man who embodied cool under pressure, having played Ilya Kuryakin from 1964–1968 on “The Man from U.N.C.L.E.” His repertoire had included Shakespeare, and theatre productions of “The Lion in Winter” and “Julius Caesar.” The Glasgow, Scotland, native won the hearts of Americans in the 1960s with his cool, suave portrayal of Illya Kuryakin, secret agent, in the proverbial black turtleneck cast opposite the ultracool Robert Vaughn.
<p>
McCallum had a wonderful means of expressing himself with any dialogue he was given and for exactly the past 20 years, he “was” Ducky to this generation of Americans who adored his brilliant memory, tolerated his penchant for telling a three-minute answer in eight minutes (on the show) and his dapper portrayal of a man whose heart was always with the U.S. Marine, both throughout the show and beyond.
<p>
In many episodes of “NCIS” over the years, Ducky’s character provided closure when homeless Marines were killed in assuring that they received full military honors when appropriate. There were several occasions that showed Ducky attending the Marine Military Ball, which was a fund raiser for their scholarship fund.
<p>
Far more than a character actor, McCallum was a music professional, having <a href="https://www.imdb.com/name/nm0564724/" target="_blank">studied</a> oboe at the Royal Academy of Music. Sort of keeping it all in the family, given that his father was first violinist for the London Philharmonic and his mother a cellist.
<p>
Even beyond that, the music continues. His family with two women includes four sons and a daughter. With first wife, Jill Ireland, are sons Paul, Jason (d. 1989), and Valentine. With wife Katherine Carpenter are son Peter and daughter Sophie.
<p>
Son Val is a guitarist and singer-songwriter who is a veteran of many tours. He also has been a studio <a href="https://www.hellomagazine.com/film/501236/ncis-star-david-mccallum-famous-son-val-mccallum/" target="_blank">musician</a> with Jackson Browne, Sheryl Crow, Lucinda Williams, Bonnie Raitt, and Loretta Lynn. Val noted that “My grandfather actually played on The Beatles’ track A Day in the Life”; “He’s also credited by Jimmy Page for suggesting using a violin bow on the strings of his electric guitar.”
<p>
Son Paul is a popular and respected guitarist, songwriter, and performer in Los Angeles, who favors jazz, blues, and some of his own compositions, which you can find on “Jazz Dogs” by the Paul McCallum Trio. Fellow musicians include Tom Buckner, Granville “Danny” Young, and Rod Harbour as well as Dave Smith and Doemenic Genova.
<p>
Son Peter told <a href="https://news.sky.com/story/the-man-from-u-n-c-l-e-star-david-mccallum-dies-aged-90-12970054" target="_blank">Sky News</a>, “He always put family before self. He looked forward to any chance to connect with his grandchildren and had a unique bond with each of them.”
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For 459 episodes McCallum sustained record-setting times for “NCIS,” a season beyond Harmon, albeit not in each episode of Season 19, for CBS and for all of us who know much of the dialogue from any number of these episodes.
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More than a TV show, more than a standard entertaining procedural with strong plots thanks to brilliant show runners who assured the characters stayed true to Bellisario’s and McGill’s visions, “NCIS” was a part of family life for many on Tuesday nights (later on the show shifted to Mondays) and was the foundation by which audiences would later come to know and enjoy “NCIS: LA,” “NCIS: New Orleans,” and most recently “NCIS: Hawaii,” which has to be some kind of record for launching multimillion-dollar enterprises for one network. (Photo below by Michael Yarish)
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Michael Weatherly shared on <a href="https://twitter.com/M_Weatherly/status/1706432918380241082" target="_blank">Twitter</a>, “David McCallum made every moment count, in life and on set. Let’s raise a jug and celebrate a funny fantastic authentic man. I’ve only got 3 autographs. Connery, Tony Bennett and McCallum. … No one did it better. We were lucky to have him bring us Ducky. Let’s send all the love in the world to his beautiful family. Rest In Peace David.”
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Brian Dietzen, who played Ducky’s mentoree, Jimmy Palmer, shared today on <a href="https://twitter.com/BrianDietzen/status/1706458014222626859" target="_blank">Twitter</a>, “Such a kind soul and a terrific talent. You are missed beyond words, my friend. My heart just breaks today. Thank you for everything. Sending all my love to the McCallum family.” (Photo by Cliff Lipson, 2011, courtesy of CBS)
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To anyone expecting a quote from Mark Harmon, they’ll have to wait until morning for the press outlets as neither Harmon, nor Gibbs, are on social media, but you already knew that.
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As the character of Ducky was seen to deem, in his discussion with Gibbs about the fate of his massive personal fortune, it was to be given to the Marine Corps Scholarship Foundation, and in April 2015, the U.S. Marine Corps invited him to be the official <a href="https://www.facebook.com/marinescholars?__cft__%5b0%5d=AZUYYsPxxmt8AmlL-0jqE6iYnqKODGgrKxSLtDc0swLwanw17eO9ov520kZDCDd0-QprXm5xUOcA4S97WMCUclNT3ltSpNYwTLpWu_dhOx9_L3Dcw3PmRGnBxzCLdusuWHw&__tn__=-UC%2CP-R" target="_blank">starter</a> for the Marine Corps Historic Half race. It is poignant and caring that the McCallum <a href="https://www.independent.co.uk/arts-entertainment/tv/news/david-mccallum-death-ncis-age-b2418396.html" target="_blank">family</a> “asks that donations be made to the Marine Corps Scholarship Foundation at <a href="http://www.mcsf.org" target="_blank">http://www.mcsf.org</a> — just as Ducky would have appreciated.
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David penned his first novel “Once a Crooked Man” in 2016 and “<a href="https://www.independent.co.uk/arts-entertainment/tv/news/david-mccallum-death-ncis-age-b2418396.html" target="_blank">recorded</a> four albums for Capitol Records comprised of instrumental versions of hits at the time.” If that’s not enough, McCallum was a prolific actor and voice <a href="https://www.imdb.com/name/nm0564724/" target="_blank">character</a> for various movies, video games, and TV series.
He was born September 19, 1933 in Glasgow, Scotland; the premiere of “NCIS” was September 23, 2003, which they are rerunning tonight on CBS—the episode is “Yankee White” and features Sasha Alexander at FBI Agent Caitlin Todd. And, he died September 25, 2023 in New York City at the age of 90. Wouldn’t you know it?
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Today, by long-ago plan, CBS had declared this day and evening “NCIS Day” in honor of the 20th anniversary of the show’s debut. They are airing 3 episodes of the show tonight beginning at 7pm CST, “Yankee White,” “SWAK,” and “All Hands.” Longtime fans of “NCIS” already know what those episodes are all about.
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Everything seems to have come full circle then, and right on time for airtime tonight.
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Thank you and good night, David. God bless you.
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Dawn Lee Wakefieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04820422116291835694noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-116415734187328679.post-13520922293979054362023-08-27T02:10:00.002-07:002023-08-27T11:46:02.814-07:00Sustaining the Loss of Extended Family—Southern Style<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8lDSslVpH7LLkejoE4akIUhDjL5lDAASZNO3tNRkhA14rYov5_h2YOGul9AFrH9KvJuJbXkl70u9Y21I-rgsC-v7UnldcHZJSbzBBHQKMiUr33pIzEKiMFjod8ECfZN_-OKrX7DUj8hkRJK-dPsOwN7aAPSFWoWpW2aaCsIgpA2fcc5CW93ErX0FLBtRn/s940/e%20x%20t%20e%20n%20d%20e%20d%20family%20%281%29.png" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; clear: left; float: left;"><img alt="" border="0" width="320" data-original-height="788" data-original-width="940" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8lDSslVpH7LLkejoE4akIUhDjL5lDAASZNO3tNRkhA14rYov5_h2YOGul9AFrH9KvJuJbXkl70u9Y21I-rgsC-v7UnldcHZJSbzBBHQKMiUr33pIzEKiMFjod8ECfZN_-OKrX7DUj8hkRJK-dPsOwN7aAPSFWoWpW2aaCsIgpA2fcc5CW93ErX0FLBtRn/s320/e%20x%20t%20e%20n%20d%20e%20d%20family%20%281%29.png"/></a></div>
Sometimes the loss of a loved one can hit you like a ton of bricks, when you least expect it. Losing a relative, the immediate family kind, is eventual and though sad, a part of the expected process for all adults…it’s not a matter of if, but when, we give back to Heaven the lives we loved here on Earth.
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Just as welcoming new lives is into our worlds each day when a baby is born, there comes a time when we have to bid farewell to those we love. When we enter our lives, we are “issued” two parents who make us possible and for many of us, we’re raised by those two individuals.
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Others are raised by variations of parents—adoptive, or additional loved ones who live in the home where we are raised (older siblings, additional relatives such as aunts or grandmothers). Depending on economics and living conditions, some families house as many as three generations under the same roof as part of tradition or necessity. When children are present, they often grow up knowing they are loved comprehensively by a large number of people who are called their family.
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Occasionally we encounter the statistical outlier—the person without a lot of family around them. Usually the older the person, the fewer family remembers around them it seems.
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But one of the nicest parts of life is when your immediate world is expanded of additional people who don’t “have” to be there but who are brought in and introduced as “just like family” in your world. How they arrive can be a number of pathways, but the end result is the same. For the person who receives the extra love and attention from the “outsider,” it’s a bonus to adult or child to have yet one more advocate in their corner, rooting them on in life, one more person cheering at the baseball game or one more ear to hear a confidence or calm a troubled soul.
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Although their presence is not truly necessary, it does have benefits to both parties to be an outsider. More often than not, especially in the south, if these outsiders are female they are known as “Aunt” inside the family, or “Uncle” as appropriate. They are invited to and included in holidays, celebrations, ceremonies marking rites of passage, and just regular family gatherings because they love seeing everyone.
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Children in the south are often taught to address adults who are not family by names like Miss and Mister (sometimes Ms., depending on where you are). Speaking personally, I love being Miss Dawn Lee, Ms. Dawn Lee, or Aunt Dawn Lee to a host of children whose parents or grandparents have gifted me with the substantive time to get to know their children and the joy of watching them grow up before my eyes. And, I have a group of individuals whom, later in my life, I was fortunate enough to call “my” Aunts and Uncles.
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For people who don’t know me well, they occasionally say, “It’s a shame you don’t have any family”—haha, yeah, no. Wrong. My cup runneth over. Oh, I do have a family on my very large family tree, even though I’m an only child—there are 25 of us who are first-cousins just on my mother’s side alone. She was one of eight children and yet, I was an only child. But we are all geographically scattered (as Grandma used to say) “from hell to breakfast.” I’m close to a few of the cousins, closer to some second cousins, and enjoy watching third cousins grow up via Facebook pictures and updates.
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As an only child, however, except one aunt to whom I am still close, I grew up without aunts and uncles around me often enough to bring sufficient meaning to thinking I had any, even though I had seven of each on Mom’s side of the tree.
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That is, until I was a mature adult at which point I was gifted with one of the richest inheritances of my life—the love of an extended family, an actual family by the way, complete with “just like” siblings, aunts, nieces, nephews, and grandparents! I was encouraged, rather than allowed, to address the seniors as “Aunt” and “Uncle” same as their “real” nieces. I was included at weddings, funerals, birthdays, graduations, and at hospitals when new generations were born. I often took photographs of the children’s first days on earth, starting in the hospital nursery, and I loved running to Eckerd’s and Walgreen’s (remember those days?) to get them developed and gifting the relatives with their photos. Over the years, I took photos at birthdays, Christmases, on and on.
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Over the years, my career took me back and forth to Houston on consulting projects, and while I could choose to stay in Houston hotels, there were times when I’d stop and stay in a small Texas town in the country. This was home to Aunt Jean and Uncle Donald (and Aunt Dot and Uncle Aubrey and even before that, their beloved sister-in-law and brother-in-law, a third couple whose two families had married into each other some 50 years prior and whose ability to remain together, geographically and in their hearts found them as next-door neighbors almost all of their lives). It was unique, it was real, and I loved being with all of them, thanks to an adoptive sister who understood what I needed without my ever saying a word and she shared them with me unconditionally.
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For more than 23 years, I was blessed with this family as “mine,” and I’ll never forget, when my Mom passed away, as people came filing into the church to be there “for me,” there was pew after pew after pew of members of that family, my extended family, who showed me their love that day, with their physical presence. I never felt alone for a minute. Everyone who knew how close my Mom and I were all of our lives seemed mystified at why I wasn’t falling apart when she died. And yet, all I had to do was look around and know that I was never alone.
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It was just shy of 10 years ago, our paths changed and our schedules and some of my usual activities and hobbies changed. It’s the natural progression of things.
As things were redirected I lost daily or weekly contact with “my family” and they with me. On the times and occasions that we reached out by phone to check in, the love was always there. It was never not there. And we ended each visit with a hug and a kiss and an “I love you” that still brings a smile and warms my heart.
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Every time I get a piece of fine china out of my cupboard (for those of you who are laughing to think that every happens, think again! I do have them, and I do use them)…I remember Aunt Jean. One day en route home from a consulting trip (I’d stopped and brought back primo Houston BBQ for our dinner), I’d visited her and Uncle Donald in the beloved tiny town.
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She said she’d found a fantastic “deal” for me at their annual town garage sale and wanted me to have them “for the future.” I told her I wasn’t putting them in my (No-)Hope Chest but that I was putting them into active duty immediately and that I loved them. The pattern was exquisite and classic and matched my taste to a proverbial “T,” as we say here.
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The best part was traveling together—not to some destinations that you might call exotic, but every single one of them was one of the most joyous adventures I ever had the privilege of being included in, thanks to their “real” niece. Sometimes we drove a few hours away to a casino destination (and to visit more beloved extended family whom I got to call Aunt and Uncle times two or three), and we’d have the best time. The road trips were the best because we had conversations that were so fun, so funny, and reminiscing about some of our previous trips.
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We talked of old times that, even on the ones I was never on, I was always made to feel like I’d been right there. The storytelling was so vivid, upbeat and I honestly think that some of my present-day skills that people (kindly) say I have for telling stories were shaped and colored by how I loved how they related history, family experiences, and were able to always find positives by which to place inside memories, good and bad alike.
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One of the best times of my life was being in Las Vegas with the intention of hearing my favorite band, The Buckinghams, live in concert. I’d arrived early together with a high school friend and then local friends Pam and Mike were there for the wedding of their friend and to boot, I was lucky enough that my high school classmate Howard happened to be within driving distance that weekend and came over.
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Then I drove to the airport to pick up the party of five, including Aunt Jean, who flew in to join my most important weekend—the concert. That evening, I had a table of 10 enjoying the concert of a lifetime for me and no exaggeration—if my life had ended that night for some obscure reason, I can truly say that I could have gone on to my next life with no regrets. But that was far from the end of the adventures with the extended family.
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What was special about Aunt Jean is that she had an amazing recall for everything in my life that was important. Over the years she never forgot anything I shared with her, she kept confidences close, and she never failed to ask about the people she’d met in my life when she was in town and that was something truly special about her—that’s love…knowing who and what is important to you, even the small things that you hold close in your heart, not wanting to share them with the world…
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We talked about music all the time—her daughter was just a few years older than I was and so we both had about the same record albums blasting all the time as we grew up years and miles apart from each other. I loved that she knew who some of my favorites were and she was as current as they come.
She also loved sports—she and Uncle Donald were giant sports fans and enjoyed baseball, football, and even boxing. She was a major Houston Astros fan and I know she’d be pleased with many games I’ve seen this season. We loved discussing our favorite teams and players.
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<b>Constantly Seeking The Good in Others Leaves the Best Life Lesson<i></i></b><p>
Perhaps it sounds absurd for me to go on and on about simple conversations of years ago but the reason I do is that in our present day and time, people seem to refuse to consider the best in people. They can’t want to point out a difference, a flaw, something that makes someone else lesser than, not as good as, or worse yet, to judge them by sight rather than finding out who they are first. Let me say that it is a rare gift indeed when you meet people who show you love first before they show you judgment. <p>
Road trips grew to be annual to include “the changing of the leaves” each October; and as many of “the girls” as the Suburban would hold, we would travel throughout the New England countryside over, around, under, and through the most beautiful scenery God ever thought up. I took pictures when I wasn’t driving, and those memories fill my heart and my photo albums still today. Simply stopping on the side of the road for gas and goodies in a convenience store. This cartoon sums it up, but the fun part was being a kid and being yourself.
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All the girls knew I had a fondness for “circus goobers,” which are those yummy chewy orange peanut-shaped candies, and sugared jelly beans, and they loved to tease me about my um….obsession over ice. Not just one kind of ice—all kinds of ice. They used to tease me (when I was driving) as to where I was bound to stop (or not) because of “they have really good ice here!” as my justification. Love is—letting her stop the car wherever she likes their ice.
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Long relaxing days on a chair outside, sitting and visiting about whatever topic traveled by was such a joy. We all loved outdoor farmer’s markets and finding the bonanzas along various roadside locales (north and south alike) was such fun. Who had the best corn, the best tomatoes, and squash meant that we were going to enjoy some major league vegetable dinners that night.
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The travels are over, those days are safely tucked away in the rearview mirror, fondly, for future reference when I need to smile. One of the best things about Aunt Jean was her devotion to her family, real and extended, and she was fortunate at a very early age to meet her kindred spirit and husband, Donald. Throughout the many, many years of her life they were a dedicated duo—did so many things together that you could blend their names — Jean’n’Donald — and you knew when one loved you, the other did, too. I was fortunate to meet them after they’d retired from their careers and they’d worked hard and saved carefully for the future. So I had the best gift of all —their time and their love and interest. I was one of many in their extended family of course, but I did love them.
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At Christmas time I get out my decorations and some special ones are from Aunt Jean and Aunt Dot, who always thought of me at holidays. Every year at their annual rummage sale, the ladies quilting guild auctioned off (for tickets raffled) a handmade quilt that they made each year. These quilts were prized and gorgeous. Anyone lucky enough to have a Southern handmade quilt knows exactly what I’m describing. Every year for five years I bought tickets in hopes of winning. Finally, Aunt Jean and Aunt Dot decided I needed to “win,” and the two of them made me my own quilt! I was blown away to receive it and I prize it to this day. My home was filled with gifts of love like that over two decades.
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For anyone who thinks it is necessary to locate a five-star property with limited clientele to call it heaven on earth has never just basked in the calm and peace of people who don’t have a mean bone in their bodies—who find a faith in God to get them through some of the worst challenges and time in their lives. Aunt Jean was in her 80s and in a regular Sunday School class and worship service with the energy of a 20-year-old, together with her sister-in-law, Aunt Dot. Another joy was driving about 2 hours to worship at the church they all belonged to there in a bigger city about 20 miles from the tiny town they lived in.
The light in Jean’s heart emanated from her beautiful spirit. It’s surreal to think of her as not being here anymore. Logically, of course it was time, and she was not able to enjoy life anymore, so okay, it was appropriate. But she was so wonderful about offering encouragement when I was hitting the walls sometimes in my challenges. She believed in me and that meant everything.
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About a month ago, I had had Aunt Jean on my mind and heart almost daily. I remembered her birthday and though I didn’t do anything about it (her condition had been such that she would not recognize a card from me to know me). Although it had been a year since I’d seen her in person, there wasn’t a week that went by that I didn’t think of her. I kept wondering how she was but somehow I was too scared to call her nephew and niece and ask them, her caregivers, how she’d been doing. I was afraid I would hear that the end was near. And I wasn’t prepared to accept that reality, as if my preference, wish, or prayer had a flying fig to do with it.
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Every day I promised I’d call and check, but I also remembered that they’d promised to let me know if something happened…so I just got busy and went on with life. Until I just couldn’t stand not knowing. As I’d feared, the answer was that indeed she had passed away, the day after her birthday…she’d made it one day past when she was most on my mind and memory.
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Per her specific wishes, there was no formal service. That’s one thing that she was about—not wanting anyone to make a fuss over her. She was buried together with her beloved Donald and I’ll be paying my respects as fast as I can get there. People don’t stop to think that the rest of us left here need closure, we need to come together to reflect, share, remember when, and hug each other who are left that the love, time, and earthly memories they shared with us in better times meant something special to us. I’m glad that I was able to tell her during her lifetime what her friendship had meant to me.
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While it’s sad it took me so long to find out that she was gone, it’s also as normal as the days in May—life gets busy. People deal with the passing of loved ones in different ways. Grief manifests itself in so many different ways as I have come to learn the past seven years especially. I won’t be as pompous as to say I’ve seen it all, but I have experienced and walked the paths of many people who have shown me there is no one right or wrong way to grieve.
We all try and find a home base and center to return to, so that we can restart our lives and go forward without the presence of a key loved one in our lives any longer. Our responsibilities and schedules change and it can be so unsettling. The older we get means absolutely zero guarantee that we do “better” with grief than someone younger. There is no exact formula or correlation for recovering from grief.
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The best we can do for each other is just be genuine, present, and happy in one another’s lives for as long as we can be, for as long as we are invited in, and for as long as our minds allow us to be considerate of what others need or want in their lives. Love never dies. When we lose extended family, it hurts like “the real thing” but tomorrow and tomorrow after and every day after that, we can be inspired by our extended family to reach out to those who might need an extra aunt or uncle in their lives to just listen, love, care, and be there, keeping it real, to sustain us through the uncertain times ahead. God bless you, Aunt Jean, and thank you for loving me, along with all your “real family.” You are the best!
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Dawn Lee Wakefieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04820422116291835694noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-116415734187328679.post-6631826238933886772023-08-24T01:16:00.001-07:002023-08-24T01:16:08.045-07:00Southern Women and Our Words on Southern Nights
Although I was born in Texas and am geographically considered a natural-born Southern woman, I came from a mixed marriage between a Yankee and a Southerner. It never bothered me that I didn’t seem to have a Southern accent (unless various phrases and words I used gave me a distinctive speech pattern), as I am who I am like everyone else is who they are. We all speak based on who all we grew up around, who we heard speaking to us, reinforcing our understanding by loving intonations of various words being said and our learning to pronounce them similarly. When in Rome, and all…
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Growing up in San Antonio, I remember the newscasters had what was then called Midwestern voices, where you weren’t going to hear any harsh northern pronunciations or any southern lilts in the words as they were read off the teleprompters. As I grew, I remember Mom saying that “the more Midwest you sound, the higher your salary would be on TV.” Never had I contemplated being a TV newscaster; however, random facts, once known as flotsam and jetsam, stayed safely in my brain for future recall at the strangest times. My high school class of 21 people was diverse but with few exceptions, I don’t recall deep southern accents spoken by my classmates, so I never gave it much thought.
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Once I arrived at Texas A&M for school, though, I was certainly in for a shock. My freshman math class the first summer (nerd alert: takes a calculus class in the summer) was a wakeup call. Our teacher was fresh out of college and the only language he spoke as a grad student was Math. He was from Dallas but for all the words he said, it was blahblahblah Math. So, there were lots of questions from my fellow students.
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I listened interestedly as students from all over the state posed their questions. Intonations, rate of speaking, and numbers of syllables in words once familiar were puzzling. Where were these people from? There was one fellow named Max who asked a question of the prof: “In equazhun three, you have some pa-ren-tha-seas there and I cain’t figger out wazzup they’re.” I was stunned, and then immediately sympathetic. I was sure he had a speech impediment. My heart was opened, and I thought about how brave he was to ask his question.
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The prof couldn’t quite determine how to answer his question, and so the guy next to Max decided to help out. When “Jerry” asked the question, I swear he sounded exactly like Max! The words he spoke and how he spoke them blew my mind. There were two of them! Oh, bless their hearts. God love ‘em. How brave they were!
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After class I went up and smiled and asked, “Where y’all from?” having fallen gently into the pattern of Texan talk. One smiled back and said, “Monahans.” From the blank look on my face, Max said, “It’s not too far from Odessa.” Ah, I made the connection and smiled. They didn’t have any speech impediments! They were from West Texas! I was the one with the impediment…in my brain. Clearly I’d grown up in the big city and was limited to observing Texas accents on television, many spoken by actors from New York and California. Oh well. That was my first memory of what it was like to be a true Texan, from the south, or any other distinctive quality about the world of the Texas Aggies I would ultimately enter and remain in for the rest of my academic career.
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqrzJEfSHo5n5p83Sk8SLzNoNVgs6IJwyelUOXztyXl4CghC-8lBdoWDX78n1F5jkQ-BCUBWrMGBXCjRAsz4ueBfQaB57igNgNIAmte_iXBrIIw0MfIni5Vnol-SvOBE-M4QfQnroHIgLpvaFnqvtnD7BALp3ZBjm-cHoHfgY91MlT3YqvennYMyXoY-DO/s1410/Laverne.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; clear: left; float: left;"><img alt="" border="0" height="200" data-original-height="1410" data-original-width="1030" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqrzJEfSHo5n5p83Sk8SLzNoNVgs6IJwyelUOXztyXl4CghC-8lBdoWDX78n1F5jkQ-BCUBWrMGBXCjRAsz4ueBfQaB57igNgNIAmte_iXBrIIw0MfIni5Vnol-SvOBE-M4QfQnroHIgLpvaFnqvtnD7BALp3ZBjm-cHoHfgY91MlT3YqvennYMyXoY-DO/s200/Laverne.jpg"/></a></div>In my childhood, I enjoyed doing voices of various TV characters that amused me, and the wilder the better. In my repertoire was when Cher played the lady in the laundromat, Laverne Lashinski, whose gum-snapping witticisms and hand waves (punctuated with “Oh honey, let me tell you!”) were filled with a tinge of naughtiness, her cat-eye glasses perched at the end of her nose, and a leopard-skin costume collection that Bob Mackie outdid himself to produce. I had Laverne down cold.
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Same with Carol Burnett’s Stella Toddler (“Please don’t hurt me!”). There's no question that Carol's voices made the character but there's also no question that Bob Mackie's costume designs brought those characters to life! <div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpuyiuIL8MhmZRt-I_gmhNRfSpzlg5TnMKf9EDbmAecZrWwAO3hn6mjCTxG4otR5rVamTFZU05LBzIaZMT_ULDdv7Z4oquW6vxs5_0KQX2aj7CzGrmiOoZ91m_XIkJJYYVDHbRAyQQXHMN_amd0qeGuKAocTylT29IYfzxbPfjFlRib4qmX7zyOmXd27oJ/s1000/Stella-Toddler-OG2-1000x525.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="320" data-original-height="525" data-original-width="1000" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpuyiuIL8MhmZRt-I_gmhNRfSpzlg5TnMKf9EDbmAecZrWwAO3hn6mjCTxG4otR5rVamTFZU05LBzIaZMT_ULDdv7Z4oquW6vxs5_0KQX2aj7CzGrmiOoZ91m_XIkJJYYVDHbRAyQQXHMN_amd0qeGuKAocTylT29IYfzxbPfjFlRib4qmX7zyOmXd27oJ/s320/Stella-Toddler-OG2-1000x525.jpg"/></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgK2Ips1cYfXE-ANEFTjH_aAFDFfn8_93TV8gSA4QAPMSciW6V_vxdHRlqVSfLdKv3zrbrolYFwayJX3UNKgTBdPRRrX8QSFlj0y-a5wp0YSzHNdhZL0lQo0CuD0kHLHSBs-yJufd1JSMN0LORGT0yeIWtJVc0wXIEc8MsWBZj3mE-TtD-NxTj6uYiMQJv/s400/635894446801407881-Carol-Burnett-Mrs.-Wiggins-drawing.webp" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; clear: right; float: right;"><img alt="" border="0" height="200" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgK2Ips1cYfXE-ANEFTjH_aAFDFfn8_93TV8gSA4QAPMSciW6V_vxdHRlqVSfLdKv3zrbrolYFwayJX3UNKgTBdPRRrX8QSFlj0y-a5wp0YSzHNdhZL0lQo0CuD0kHLHSBs-yJufd1JSMN0LORGT0yeIWtJVc0wXIEc8MsWBZj3mE-TtD-NxTj6uYiMQJv/s200/635894446801407881-Carol-Burnett-Mrs.-Wiggins-drawing.webp"/></a></div>Her Mrs. Wiggins was another favorite of mine. Before classes started in the mornings, many of us would sit around the cafeteria and chat about what was on TV the night before. The sketches known as “The Family” produced the greatest memories and giggles. I had Eunice Higgins to a ‘T’ and could switch in and out of Eunice and Vicki Lawrence’s “Mother Harper” (Thelma) seamlessly. <div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC-di30b7XEbVP4YjoQsZ_1h9XGB4XEVZ6LIFCfCdecI3NXShfKEQ6bJVZe6zhUiE63PJda2IXxoHrxubwlwUl5zV_C2YB5A0Yp5eQPfi_z_27-tf0cQzSxtMFjFw830bsFfzf4UO_BuX94YerBSUBrEyB5a8q_dymvb13E2sdI6XWjvzL2_W-UoZc1QXj/s401/635894451285500625-Carol-Burnett-Eunice-drawing.webp" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; clear: left; float: left;"><img alt="" border="0" height="200" data-original-height="401" data-original-width="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC-di30b7XEbVP4YjoQsZ_1h9XGB4XEVZ6LIFCfCdecI3NXShfKEQ6bJVZe6zhUiE63PJda2IXxoHrxubwlwUl5zV_C2YB5A0Yp5eQPfi_z_27-tf0cQzSxtMFjFw830bsFfzf4UO_BuX94YerBSUBrEyB5a8q_dymvb13E2sdI6XWjvzL2_W-UoZc1QXj/s200/635894451285500625-Carol-Burnett-Eunice-drawing.webp"/></a></div>
Other people play piano concertos from memory…I remember things that make me laugh. Oh well. Another product of my wildly misspent youth in the school library.
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9fLB3Js8hSHV0JYo00prGBCq1N0mP9csfK-pcr_URDEOS885YyCp3UNOs07dOom33Hd-L82uisO5AKucObjLlY5ZSV1eOihe0o0ZHnomM11Sm-GIQzGMG62_3EkItWojuvXFfxvzq1ZUItKSSQY8SfhaPlBhzY4JE7jWgaHhc3Qb6avZ8v_ZbiIGCMmei/s499/543e15fb4cb7ccf0a21d4e3eb84874c9.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; clear: right; float: right;"><img alt="" border="0" height="200" data-original-height="499" data-original-width="280" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9fLB3Js8hSHV0JYo00prGBCq1N0mP9csfK-pcr_URDEOS885YyCp3UNOs07dOom33Hd-L82uisO5AKucObjLlY5ZSV1eOihe0o0ZHnomM11Sm-GIQzGMG62_3EkItWojuvXFfxvzq1ZUItKSSQY8SfhaPlBhzY4JE7jWgaHhc3Qb6avZ8v_ZbiIGCMmei/s200/543e15fb4cb7ccf0a21d4e3eb84874c9.jpg"/></a></div>My repertoire grew to include Cher’s “Sadie” and my poor victim as the preacher was my dear friend Bobby, whose stalwart patience for my routines was my home base.
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I started a list of phrases I’d never heard growing up, but that I heard regularly here as I “grew up” in my years of studying at A&M.
An early favorite came from someone whose name escapes me, but she used to say, “<i>I hear tell that</i>….” Meaning someone had told her and now she was telling me. I thought that was adorable!
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I did have one southern expression down cold, though: "<i>Lick of sense</i>." When I was 10 years old, I heard that phrase in Bobbi Gentry’s song, “Ode to Billy Joe.” You know, “It was the third of June, another sleepy, dusty, delta dayyyyy.” Yeah, that one. Anyway you go on into the song and there was a phrase, “Well, Billy Joe never had a liquorsince, pass the biscuits pleaseeee.” I remember my sweet neighbor Susan’s mom, Dolores, driving me to the dentist appointment one summer day while Mom was at work and that song came on the radio.
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I asked Dolores, a true Southern girl, what she was singing, and she said, “Oh you know, a lickofsense” and I said, “No, I’ve never heard that. What is she singing?” “Lickofsenselickofsense.” By the confusion on my brow, she said, “He was slow, he didn’t have one bit of common sense about him.” Oh. OH. OHhhhhhh! Finally, breakthrough. Thank goodness for Dolores, because Mama didn’t have a clue what Bobbi Gentry was singing either!
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Another favorite expression came from my adoptive grandma, aka MamMaw, who’d call me sometimes at 8:30 am if she had a question, and my late-night study hours were happening while she was fast asleep. If I sounded the least bit groggy, she’d ask, “Are you <i>still laying up in the bed</i>?” and I’d truthfully reply, “Yes, ma’am!” and she’d giggle and say, “It’s long past when you should have gotten up, so get going, girl!” and I’d promise her I would.
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It was lovely to hear MamMaw's voice, even if it was to wake me up. She was the same MamMaw who insisted, 20 years later, that I call her when I drove back into town from Houston on business and had arrived home safely. I was in my 40s but I loved the fact that she made me call her to let her know I was safe. That was love. That was MamMaw. She wasn’t my blood relative, by the way. We adopted each other, thanks to her daughter-in-law and son who shared her very sweetly. I’ll have more to say on shared family later.
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Another favorite expression I learned was “<i>Momandem</i>” and virtually all of you know instantly that you are reading the words “Mom and all of them” (in the family). When someone inquires about your well-being here, being polite Southerners they are all-inclusive, so they say “How are Momandem?” and you answer, “We are all doing well, thank you!” Or, if someone’s doing poorly, you break out that information at that time, too.
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Sweet tea. Um. Is there any other kind? Oh yeah, unsweet tea. It’s when you grow up without sweet tea, you get started out on the wrong road of sipping brown water with virtually no flavor. Southern women make sweet tea, and if you’re fortunate enough, you learn exactly the right way to make it. Boil your water, get out your favorite tea bags (and that is a topic until itself…Lipton, Luzianne, Bigelow…. For another time), and steep them for a good while, then while your brew is still hot as a pistol, you open up a 5-lb bag of sugar and start slowly stirring your concoction. The more seasoned the cook, the more automatic the process, but the end product is worth it.
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Homemade sweet tea is to die for. It’s basically a food group and if you have that and just a little of anything else, you’re all set! Through the years, I have been an iced tea afficionado, preferring this nectar to any soft drink by far. I will have much to say about iced tea in another post, but back to southerners and our tea. It’s just “home” for me. I’m not alone. I had to learn temperance, or unsweetened tea, for as much as I consume, but a little discipline is good for you. I call it going off the wagon when I drink the fully uncut sweet tea, but most of my favorite places offer “half and half” tea regularly on their menus. Pretty sure you won’t find that up north at the drive-thrus. I have lots more to say about drive-thru iced teas, for another time (Hint: HTeaO).
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<i>Kona</i> — Okay, this one escaped me for a long time as several of my friends said that was where they were going to be and we could meet up there. I hid my ignorance on that one for years and just tried to find a friend to go with me so I wouldn’t be alone to guess where the kona was. Until I meet sweet Nita. Nita was a true Southern girl and she spoke so slowly but sweetly that you didn’t mind waiting for her to finish her sentence, but it was definitely slower than my usual motormouth pace.
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Nita said that word first, in my memory, “kona,” when she described an intersection of two blocks and a store there. It didn’t register what she meant because I knew the store’s name. Finally, it was when my buddy Harold Presley was on the radio, playing Lou Vega’s “Mambo No. 5” one day, out of the blue it hit me….”Down to the kona”…..I heard it again!
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<blockquote>“One, two, three, four five
Everybody in the car, so come on, let’s ride
To the liquor store around the <i>corner</i>…”</blockquote>
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Bingo! You’d have thought I was Thomas Edison seeing the light bulb work for the first time, haha. My ear became better tuned. I just loved it when Nita said “corner.” Every time I hear “Mambo No. 5” now, I think of Nita, and smile.
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I suppose it all “took,” my ear and new education in language skills after a long stretch of time living here.Just ask my friend Patti. When I see her number come up on my phone, I’m known to answer with a rather raucous response, “<i>WAZZZUPPPP</i>” to which she will reply (unless it’s business) with an equally splendiferous response and when we stop laughing, we begin to talk.
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When I talk to my friends in Chicago, they tease me about my southern accent and yet, I swear up and down I don’t have one, unless it’s on purpose and for a character voice I’m doing…but we all fall into a groove that we love with and for the people we love, and we just tend to all blend in.
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Oh, were that so...beyond simple speech patterns, the ability to blend. And that we could extend and expand that to better understanding of different points of view on various subjects…explored with interest rather than fear…with curiosity rather than concern…with respect rather than righteousness…as my dear brother from another mother, RC, would say, “I know that’s right!”
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In the days to come maybe we can all take a page from TAMU Interim President Mark A. Welsh III’s playbook on listening…the more closely we listen to one another, and our hearts, the better we can hear what we are all saying, and welcome new ideas and thoughts different from ours without jumping to approve or disapprove. Just listen. It all begins with one person…no one person is as smart as all of us…my profs at A&M used to share that message with me all the time…back in the day.
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Bidding you a good, southern night.
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Dawn Lee Wakefieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04820422116291835694noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-116415734187328679.post-65088873142555341892023-08-11T16:57:00.025-07:002023-08-11T22:17:04.248-07:00Johnny Manziel Documentary “Untold” Should Have Stayed That Way<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiSTJNFcFSqVlkXfOHKei8pxZRYxd-aNQzISuGA2KwGJfTQQioOpHt-EeWcNoO_4nln_Yw7IAfvmo3gjEsP_b4OzhsEnBJ-NxsAtso0GVbMEHtDeYMB3hXHtn8Arp_0NDSUeB5pyxqwoTCSFELUlQ2n8DItRYQUiGeb2JrxHJewYmIq7bJZpcnqm0kHhzs/s630/AAAABQrda6y6LtWpL1n0Z1n1kczc4V-o3Bq9dDxasm20EFCZXW0mT74RCDfW0HIjAi_6MDpfqPFWyUVejmZ2OTl-Cl6XjB_E0u8UlwebYanDFg40ggx6pJYSNX28X_cGszwge2lrPA.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; clear: left; float: left;"><img alt="" border="0" height="400" data-original-height="630" data-original-width="450" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiSTJNFcFSqVlkXfOHKei8pxZRYxd-aNQzISuGA2KwGJfTQQioOpHt-EeWcNoO_4nln_Yw7IAfvmo3gjEsP_b4OzhsEnBJ-NxsAtso0GVbMEHtDeYMB3hXHtn8Arp_0NDSUeB5pyxqwoTCSFELUlQ2n8DItRYQUiGeb2JrxHJewYmIq7bJZpcnqm0kHhzs/s400/AAAABQrda6y6LtWpL1n0Z1n1kczc4V-o3Bq9dDxasm20EFCZXW0mT74RCDfW0HIjAi_6MDpfqPFWyUVejmZ2OTl-Cl6XjB_E0u8UlwebYanDFg40ggx6pJYSNX28X_cGszwge2lrPA.jpg"/></a></div>
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There are possibly three groups of people who will have some kind of reaction to the debut of the new <a href="https://www.netflix.com/watch/81582385?trackId=14170286&tctx=7%2C1%2C087d100f-c7ab-4b60-93ba-1e8af039be6d-257791%2CNES_CB1388B4DF9DDAFBD9B7E8C448E76A-B9F225DDE3A711-90722B9331_p_1691797497193%2CNES_CB1388B4DF9DDAFBD9B7E8C448E76A_p_1691797497193%2C%2C%2C%2C81582385%2CVideo%3A81582385%2CminiDpPlayButton" target="_blank">Netflix documentary</a> on Johnny Manziel, Texas A&M’s most famous, or infamous, football player in the past 20 years. Group 1 is a group of Aggie fans who are devoted to championing Johnny Manziel as “Johnny Football,” and they are likely to own at least one piece of memorabilia bearing the number ‘2’. No matter what, Johnny is “their guy” forever, unquestionably.
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Group 2 are those college football fans who watched as a pre-adult from a tiny Texas town took the world by storm by playing his heart out on Saturday afternoons around Texas and the eastern United States, set records, won the hearts of Aggies, and then disappointed himself and many who adored him, and washed their hands of him, disgusted that he’d won the nation’s highest honor, the Heisman Trophy, and then trashed his career, almost purposefully.
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Group 3 include college football fans in general who were mesmerized by the antics on and off the football field of a young renegade with an impish grin and devil-may-care attitude towards rules and regulations, and who are hoping to see that Johnny turned his life around and will tune in, possibly to see a portrait of a life redirected and focused on a happy adult existence.
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On August 7, Johnny Manziel used his favorite social medium of choice, X, formerly known as Twitter, to <a href="https://twitter.com/JManziel2/status/1688732379043491840" target="_blank">share</a>: “Can’t wait for you guys to see this. Appreciate all the support!” The “this” is the Netflix documentary, <a href="http://www.netflix.com/" target="_blank">UNTOLD: Johnny Football</a>, which premiered on August 8.
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Assuming he had seen it in advance, you have to wonder why he’d want any of his friends or fans to see it. The timing, of course, is just a few weeks before his eponymous new business venture, <a href="https://www.si.com/college/tamu/news/texas-aggies-johnny-manziel-money-bar-northgate-college-station-impact-legacy-night-club-aggieland" target="_blank">Johnny Manziel’s Money Bar</a> opens on College Main in Aggieland’s famous Northgate district.
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Why I expected to see a documentary that might show the trajectory of a young man who had turned his life around and perhaps having found peace with hard work as he rebuilt his life, I don’t know. I naively like happy endings, and all Aggies who screamed and yelled for his success on game days, on award days, and on NFL opening day really want him to succeed. Who wouldn’t want the best for him?
Listen to the words of those featured in the documentary.
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Somehow between the beginning of a prospective insider’s look into the heart of Johnny Manziel, potentially to somewhat recapture the magic of a young man who zoomed through a myriad of opportunities for a secure future to the big reveals of things most of us suspected but were not sure, it was one sad story told for all the world to see, again.
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If I were going to watch for a second time, which I won’t, I would take a pencil and make tik marks every clip that showed Johnny’s father scowling, his former lifetime childhood friend “Uncle Nate,” with so much camera time that you had a very good idea of the potential delinquents in training the duo were, they somehow never saw a reason to stop doing what they were doing, whether or not laws or professional student-athlete ethics were violated.
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Then you have Uncle Nate describing how he was “the guy” or “the go-to” if you wanted to contact Johnny gave you cause to pause as you listened to Johnny’s former sports agent, Erik Burkhardt. Funny, I didn’t care for either person as they joyfully described the extremes to which they went for “their guy.” Yet, today, neither of them is Johnny’s guy anymore. No one interviewed any of Johnny’s teammates, the guys who Johnny would regularly treat to multicourse meals at Veritas, or anywhere else they wanted, because he knew to treat his O-line well.
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You heard and saw the footage of one of the traffic stops of Johnny and former girlfriend, but you didn’t see two or three years of her riding along all the way to every destination party and event she was only too pleased to be there for. Not saying any woman should ever stand for being hit or abused, not at all. She loved living that life, until she didn't any more. It’s just that there was no in-depth search into Johnny’s psyche, just on the highlights of the disasters and very superficial coverage.
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You didn’t see the girl he was engaged to and, for a time, married to, who focused Johnny on getting back in the gym daily and who may well be responsible for why he is still here. Nor, did you get treated to any real portrait other than two soundbytes from his sister, his lifeline and anchor throughout most of the past years.
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If you want any real insight into Johnny and the family dynamics, read Josh Katzowitz’s 2012 book “<a href="https://www.harpercollins.com/products/johnny-football-josh-katzowitz?variant=32116037484578" target="_blank">Johnny Football</a>,” as the author spent substantive time in Tyler, met the entire family at the Tyler Country Club and things become infinitely clearer, no thanks to this documentary. The Heisman trophy logged quite some time in the showrooms of the car dealerships in whatever city Dad was selling cars.
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For all of Johnny’s freshman football year, when former head coach Kevin Sumlin’s imposed rule of forced silence for all freshman players was in place (arguably likely the only rule Johnny followed during his career here), all quotes, legend, lore, and facts were according to the words of “Uncle Nate,” the moniker being gifted no doubt to craft an image of a wise guy with an inside track and an outside character, or caricature, of “the guy” you need to know if you’re going to reach Johnny…or “get to him” more appropriately.
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Plenty of people got to Johnny and he reciprocated in finding access to people he had only once dreamed of reaching. Imagine the heady feeling of sitting next to Maverick Carter, business partner for LeBron James, and then ultimately signing with their firm for investment opportunities as well as other groups, tweeting to his hero "Happy Birthday King James" and having LeBron welcome him on Twitter(X) when he signed with their agency. He sold a vitamin bodybuilder powder with Patrick Schwarzenegger for a time, and he sold some Snickers bars even when he didn’t make a Cheerios box.
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And then there was the professional football meltdown. It was a movie in the making, literally. Another unpleasant character in Johnny’s life is smarmy Erik Burkhardt, who delighted in regaling all the steps he took in being the reason Johnny got drafted at all by the Cleveland Browns.
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It’s ironic, the film “Draft Day” with Kevin Costner debuted in Johnny’s draft year, and as the team in the movie was the Cleveland Browns, the plot was almost prophetic. The big buzz around the draft was a hot shot quarterback who seemed too good to be true. The better player was Vontae Mack (Cuba Gooding Jr.), but all the hype was around the quarterback Bo Callahan (Josh Pence).
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At the time, collective wisdom identified Michigan State’s Connor Cook at the quarterback with baggage but some <a href="https://www.sbnation.com/nfl/2016/4/8/11321274/connor-cook-michigan-state-nfl-draft-day-quarterback#:~:text=While%20some%20details%20of%20the,Draft%3A%20Michigan%20State%27s%20Connor%20Cook." target="_blank">pundits</a> admitted it could just as easily be Johnny Manziel. The entire plot revolved around player character. And just like Bo sat at that table undrafted while everyone around him was getting the nod, Johnny sat there and ran through four bottles of water before he heard his name. Seriously, "Draft Day"is a better show to rewatch than “Untold,” by a long shot.
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Whether or not he was an entitled athlete, as though Texas is not filled with them in every town from the Cut and Shoot Bulldogs to the Normangee Panthers, Johnny’s story is not unique as depicted in "Untold." Football and Friday nights reign every fall in Texas. You know going in that if you succeed, the sky’s the limit for you to receive local, state, regional and national prominence, even if you’re from tiny Tivy High School in Kerrville, Texas.
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There are young men who come from the least affluent circumstances with only raw talent and a dream, and they don’t waste the opportunities and chances they have. They work relentlessly, they sacrifice pleasures of the moment, and they follow team rules, listen to their coaches, and they mature and grow to be career NFL employees and professional athletes who take their substantive fortunes they amass and invest them in the communities where they grew up. LeBron James and Steph Curry are two basketball standouts who prioritize education, who fund a myriad of opportunities for children to learn and grow.
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Then, there’s local football star Gerald Carter who played for Bryan High, spent eight years with the Tampa Bay Buccaneers, and then came home and spent 31 years with the Boys and Girls Club, which he attended as a grade school student, mentoring students. You don’t see a documentary on Gerald, but he and other local successes are surely worthy of them. No, it’s all about the bad boy, the headline-making, loud-living, rule-flaunting, yet lovable Johnny Football.
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Yes, TAMU made millions off the publicity that he brought the school. No, it’s not fair that he didn’t see a dime of it but that was the way it was then. He didn’t really need the money, though, did he? He was proud of what he and Uncle Nate crafted as the myth behind the “family fortune” to explain away all the unexplained affluence he was enjoying.
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People were not as stupid as to believe it. They did what they always do—overlook the obvious as long as the football team is winning—that’s the way of football, and of the Heisman. How do you expect anyone to apply a rule to Manziel when you’ve awarded the Heisman to Jameis Winston, whom Coach Jimbo Fisher couldn’t control any more than Coach Kevin Sumlin could control Johnny.
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Spoiler alert: The bon mot dropped in the midst of the film is Johnny felt empty when he was at the top of his game, financially, positionally, and in big-city bright lights. He bought a gun, tried to use it, and it failed. And then the documentary continues on. Didn’t show how certain people in his life (not mom or dad, who he wouldn’t listen to) tried over and over to reach him, ground him, show him a different path…but the train had left the station long before.
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Here he is today. A man alone on a bar stool chair in an empty set in a documentary. You don’t see if he lives in a home, condo, apartment, or where he is, whether he has people permanently in his life who are happy to be there with him, and you don’t see what his typical day is like these days. It’s like he’s there, and then he’s gone. It’s a damn shame.
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Had he stayed just slightly in the slow lane, he could have been joining a lifetime job for Texas A&M, welcoming and greeting Aggies on campus for the rest of his life, raising money for athletics, enjoying all things Aggie, surrounded by people who were always truly happy to have him here in town.
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Image is not always as it seems. While Johnny was a student, even in the midst of some of his high jinks, for every rumor of wild behavior, you would hear how he had been at a party of some “regular people” in town and been the nicest, best behaved guy there, not acting entitled at all, just one of the guys. You’d hear how he would pull into McAlister’s Deli and pick up a to go order for “Johnny” and be the sweetest customer, said thank you with a big smile and left a nice tip. He was the same kid who doted on his little sister and cousin and was as happy as he could be to play a round of golf with a few close friends who weren’t on the A&M football team. When he was surrounded by normalcy, he fit right in.
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It’s just that fame came calling, and notoriety put her arms around him and swept him up….now a bar in Northgate is not the path to normalcy for a quiet life but one would hope it brings him peace and contentment, and a group of clients who can appreciate that he wanted to create a place where everyone knows your name, relax, watch a game or two on TV, and hang out.
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If he never achieves another iota of success in business in his lifetime doesn’t matter. With good investments, the money he made will hold out. One wishes him the best though, for a happy and successful life, and a new, better documentary to come down the road, one worth watching. Everyone still believes in a happy ending. Make it so, Johnny, make it so.
Dawn Lee Wakefieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04820422116291835694noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-116415734187328679.post-2661441959270242332023-08-06T23:35:00.021-07:002023-08-08T16:37:34.460-07:00Texas Aggies Need Not Fear Diversity or Any Future Changes <div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKezGN-aVMR-C8wlSuoN335uLdc_r-XtJoWzJuMUI8Kcza7E1MAXIfd5TgUBBx9Rt4ArkLVrkkGYv1bxSYYhuSz5rMZxDhhNBFA6zBXqRwuKDkk8XxfQbnWqtwDD2TEVSNmu0icXrexdz8WvPxWbIdzhY-pqD6auRTC2D0Bkyri22Sx8V0T3pnvwsFhAkK/s1000/senior-fixing-bow-tie.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; clear: left; float: left;"><img alt="" border="0" width="320" data-original-height="667" data-original-width="1000" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKezGN-aVMR-C8wlSuoN335uLdc_r-XtJoWzJuMUI8Kcza7E1MAXIfd5TgUBBx9Rt4ArkLVrkkGYv1bxSYYhuSz5rMZxDhhNBFA6zBXqRwuKDkk8XxfQbnWqtwDD2TEVSNmu0icXrexdz8WvPxWbIdzhY-pqD6auRTC2D0Bkyri22Sx8V0T3pnvwsFhAkK/s320/senior-fixing-bow-tie.jpg"/></a></div>
<i> [Photo: Image by pressphoto on Freepik]<i></i></a></div><p></i>
<p>When I arrived on campus at Texas A&M, 49 years ago this summer, as a new member of the Class of ’78, I was naïve about Texas politics and wide-eyed about the magnificent campus that hosted the friendliest group of students and smiling faculty I’d encountered since graduating from Keystone School in San Antonio. Today my high school remains in the Top 10% nationally among Best College Prep Private High Schools in America.
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I graduated in 1974 as one in a class of 21, which included students of Caucasian, Black, Hispanic, and Asian-American heritage. Today the school still <a href="https://www.niche.com/k12/keystone-school-san-antonio-tx/rankings/" target="_blank">ranks</a> #378 of 7,010 most diverse private high schools in America. Some of us were there on scholarships, full and partial, others were full-pay students. Some had new cars, others arrived in dated cars driven by parents, and still more took the bus across town to reach campus.
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Coming from that environment, the only class distinction made was if you wanted to study hard or not. Everyone went to college and most graduated eventually if not in four years’ time. Yet, I am neither a student of privilege nor am I unfamiliar with what it is to have friends across all races and cultures. By most accounts, I’m just an ordinary student of life, slightly nerdy if I’m frank, but no better than anyone else.
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Texas A&M felt like “home” to me and little to nothing that happened during my undergraduate education dissuaded me from that feeling. Change had happened on campus already when they admitted women as regular students. Hard feelings were still held by some of the older professors who preferred A&M remain all male, all military, just as it was when they first started teaching there, but I can only think of one class where I received a lesser grade than my male classmate with the same scores. Life’s tough, so if you want to succeed, you take a deep breath and keep going. I did. No big deal. I didn’t whine, nor complain to any higher ups. It’s life and it will always be that way as long as people are scared of change.
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Thanks to two men of Democratic political persuasion, Gen. J. Earl Rudder and State Sen. W. T. “Bill” Moore, aka “The Bull of the Brazos,” women were accepted into A&M. They had to fight for our inclusion, just as the Civil Rights Act had had to fight for students of color to have equal admission. These changes happened and gradually, so I thought, those who were not pleased found a way to understand that these changes were not made “to” them, but “for” them, because as a wise prof once said, “No one person is as smart as ‘all of us.’” As a group, Aggies were unbeatable, and that was meant to describe more than a collective group on a football field.
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The Aggie school spirit fueled the ability for students of all backgrounds to come together and love this place in a way that is seemingly absurd to those who didn’t go here. Nevertheless, we do, and we have and as long as there is a Texas A&M, we will continue to engender a sense of belonging that makes each of us feel that this is “our school.” We don’t take kindly to people trying to poke fun at us, or to put us in a bad light. Through the years, though, we’ve done enough of that to ourselves that we have found the enemy and “they are us.”
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One of A&M’s greatest allies and advocates is a proud graduate of the University of Texas at Austin—the late, dynamic leader, Mrs. Margaret Rudder, another proud Democrat who not only welcomed diversity; she embraced it. In her time here, she mentored many students, male and female, and she loved them as much as they loved her. She was never judgmental or harsh if a student had long hair, blue hair, a nose ring, or four earrings in one ear. She might say “Now, that’s something you don’t see every day,” but she didn’t put it down nor did she try to bash it. A mother’s heart loves all at all times, I think, is one way to see it.
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If we were all alike, we’d be very dull. And were she here, I doubt she’d be very pleased about <a href="https://www.therudderassociation.org/" target="_blank">The Rudder Association</a> using her family name, even if her eldest son has endorsed their articulated beliefs proudly proclaimed online. She and Gen. Rudder have/had five children and until all of them place their names there, don’t assume that they’d be in lockstep agreement of the fear-based diatribe on that site.
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Over the years, many among the small group of the disgruntled have found reason to come together under the guise of “protecting” all that is good and right about Texas A&M, through their eyes at least. To generalize them, most of them don’t have any friends who don’t think the same way they do, or don’t look any different than they do, and they find comfort in that. They’re the Ron Desantis’s of this world, to use a current example not from Texas.
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Every time a person who doesn’t like how things are changing, how society and education have been asked to welcome, if not embrace at least tolerate, an inclusive student body that features making those who identify as LGBTQ+ feel at home to make them feel welcome, as they should here, there’s a giant failure that continues to perpetuate fear.
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There seems to be a knee-jerk revulsion, repulsion, and need to run to the nearest Bible to grab onto, some right side up, others upside down, and to wave it and yell that “they’re not like us! They can’t belong here because that makes them just like us and we’re not them!” Really?
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Students in pursuit of knowledge? Students with talents and interests different than ours? Students who do not ask you to be like them, or to approve of them any more than they are asked to approve of you or to like you. When I’m confronted with change or difference, I try to enter a discussion with love and understanding.
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When grouped together in class projects, I’ve seen it over and over again, when “diverse” people come together and blend their best work and they produce the best results, collectively, as a result of combining individual gifts and talents. It doesn’t make the students leave the group and want to adopt a lifestyle that is not in keeping like they entered with, but they do leave, possibly, with less fear of the unknown, and less fear of having their minds changed because they had a good experience. Maybe they even leave with more understanding about people they didn't know before. Could be friendships are forged as well, some that last a lifetime.
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If I see the word “woke” one more time, I think I shall have to put a(nother) quarter in the cuss jar, because it is so easily spewed by people who refuse to tolerate people who support diversity, equality, and inclusivity. If you’re not already awake, then by definition, you are asleep, like Rumpelstiltskin, and have been, as the world around you has changed over the past 20, 30, and 40 years. And before you bring your Bible and religion into the mix, I politely remind you that there is a reason for separation of church and state.
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In my day, religion was taught at home and in my Sunday School classes and church, and education was taught in my school. We did recite the pledge of allegiance every morning in elementary school, and we had posters up in the hallways to commemorate the various religious holidays of our students at Keystone. We tried to learn a little about each of them, especially in music classes where we would learn cultural songs of relevant heritage. It was there to observe whether or not it was embraced. We attended Quincineras and Bar Mitzvahs of our classmates. No one was cramming anything down our throats. We loved it!
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We were always “awake” at Keystone, and at Texas A&M, it’s such a big place, there have always been approved student groups to gather together those who had distinct interests unto themselves. Remember Cepheid Variable for science fiction (the early Trekkies et al.), the hometown groups for those from smaller towns, groups for the cowboys and cowgirls, service fraternity and sororities (before the Panhellenic groups came to town), and sports car clubs, on and on.
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I didn’t think of Texas A&M as awake or asleep, or anything other than an institution of higher education and a safe place to express ideas of both political opinions without being ridiculed or grade penalized for that. It was in my role as one student senator that in 1976 our leader was student body president Fred McClure, future attorney and A&M regent, and Singing Cadet, and future Executive Director of The Leadership Initiative at A&M. Every meeting people expressed all kinds of ideas and opinions. All were heard and at the end, the votes decided the direction.
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Quite civil, quite inspirational. Not everyone is going to agree all the time, and there’s going to be times when students disagree with professors, but it doesn’t mean it’s a state offense to disagree, nor should it. One example. In my fourth degree from A&M (having earned a B.S. ChE, M.S. in Phys. Chem, and Ph.D. in Phys. Chem., I went back to earn an M.Ed. in Educational Administration (Higher Ed Program Evaluation). One of my favorite professors was one with whom I seemed to disagree on at least three educational tenets, no doubt because my early educational experiences were different than his.
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Rather than sit timidly like a mouse with my opinion welling up in my throat and getting angry, after he’d offered his opinions and “take” on things in our books, he asked, “Other thoughts?” I took that as my opening and the two of us enjoyed beginning our position statements with “I am diametrically opposed to everything you just said.” The class would laugh and off we’d go into a discourse that was soon joined in by others in the class. We didn’t change our minds, either of us, but we were both heard, and I received an A in the class because in my papers I could cite sources and make cases for my statements. I had one of the best learning experiences from someone I had least in common with opinion-wise.
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That’s called intellectual discourse, and to be perfectly frank, there’s little to find that is intellectual about our current Governor or Lt. Governor, in my opinion. Although your mileage may vary and you want to attack me or my viewpoint because you disagree with me, please save it. I respect your right to disagree, and you go vote for your folks and I’ll vote for whomever I wish. No harm, no anger. Now, can we get back to the point of the matter, which is the future of Texas A&M University? You do not have to be a Republican or a Democrat, a liberal or a conservative, or any label to be a good leader, whether Texas A&M or the state of Texas. You have to be a critical thinker, though.
<p>
Democrat John Sharp is today still “the sharpest guy in the room” (No pun intended) because he did the ONE thing for Texas A&M that will be his most important legacy for the 73-year-old Aggie and career politician who will be forever remembered for SAVING TENURE at Texas A&M. When the less than intellectually gifted Lt. Governor threatened tenure for new hires at state universities he was playing with fire, so much so that he honestly didn’t realize what that would do to destroy Texas higher education forever. Sharp did and he was able to “do what he does” and build consensus quickly.
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Tenure is the only thing that academics have as guarantees that they can teach without interference. If they commit moral or ethical infractions, tenure does not protect them, and they can be fired. But if they teach their curriculum their way, they cannot be punished or censured, or censored. Most teachers allow for differing viewpoints, despite what you may think.
<p>
And John Sharp saved not only Texas A&M but all Texas institutions of higher education, and he’s not been given as much as a gold watch or a plaque for doing it. He saved <a href="https://www.texastribune.org/2023/05/27/texas-university-faculty-tenure-ban-fails/#:~:text=An%20effort%20to%20ban%20faculty,enshrines%20tenure%20in%20state%20law." target="_blank">tenure</a>! Yet he’s just had multiple headaches, one after another, because one of his hires has been refocusing repeatedly wrong actions and bad judgment onto Texas A&M for the past many weeks now.
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Here’s the good news: Kathy Banks as engineering dean introduced the concept of professors of practice into several teaching classrooms, bringing real-world experiences into the classroom to benefit students. She helped grow and increase funding for research at A&M’s Engineering extension and experiment stations and Sharp’s dream of the RELLIS campus and expanded our level of national involvement in important research.
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However, the bad news: Sharp having appointed two female (named as) superdeans (Banks and former Vet School Dean, Eleanor Green) was likely not a good idea because it elevated two women above extremely capable men who directed other important colleges, namely Agriculture and Business as just two examples. That sets up unnecessary contention, but no one asked my opinion so there’s that.
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When the university finally was free of M. K. Young and his bride (who had a little office inside her husband’s office), appointing Banks as president was something I called (I even won an iced tea because I saw it before some of my pals did) as a no-brainer. You have someone you can work with, plus you share a vision of Texas A&M taking over the state in prominence and the sky’s the limit, right? But the series of missteps that followed showed where it really takes someone who truly understands the hearts and minds of Aggies to truly lead this place.
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You have to introduce new ideas with strength and conviction, build consensus, and then share why it will benefit all in the long run. Banks failed to do that. In fact, she grew so powerful so quickly that she didn’t appear to need much of a reason to be a benevolent leader and she didn’t seem to stay closely in touch with the Distinguished Professors group whose mission it is to be a great sounding board when you want to take programs in a new or different direction. They’re a free knowledge base of wisdom that people who are smart seek out and listen to. She entirely ignored the Faculty Senate and frankly, that was ignorant.
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I have no way of knowing for sure, but I’m guessing that they didn’t hear any questions about combining the colleges of arts and sciences or hiring the giant consulting firm to study changes that should be made. It was an ill-fated plan from the get-go and so absolutely pointless and unnecessary, in my opinion. Other, far wiser, people may disagree and if they are in power, then more power to them to make it happen.
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In watching the travesty of Kathleen McElroy ’81 unfold, I have been in tears, angry, and sick to be an alumnus of a school who would dare to treat one of our own, much less any woman, like this. Paying $1,000,000 is nothing to an institution that treats millions like peanuts (e.g., football salaries) but that we lost an AGGIE who wanted to come back and rejuvenate a program that Banks had already helped bury is unconscionable.
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It is true that (shown in text messages between two Aggie regents and Banks) where the regents <a href="https://www.texastribune.org/2023/08/04/texas-am-mcelroy-texts/" target="_blank">note</a> that Banks assured them that training more conservative Aggie journalists was the mission of our school in the future. And simply to accept that this was the plan all along? I need Pepto-Bismol. I add my apologies to those who have expressed them to Professor McElroy for the botched attempted hire and all the insults she endured. All who were complicit and guilty in this fiasco should just save A&M the effort and resign and go someplace where more people think the way you do, so you don’t have to fear anyone not liking you or your idea.
<p>
Even more stunningly tragic is the Tribune's report:
<blockquote>"According to the internal report A&M released Thursday, Banks received calls from six to seven regents after Texas Scorecard, a conservative website, wrote an article about McElroy that painted her as a 'DEI proponent' for her prior research to improve diversity in newsrooms. Board member Sam Torn emailed a quote from the article to board Chair Bill Mahomes stating he wanted an explanation before he could approve McElroy's tenure...The internal report revealed that Banks was heavily involved in behind-the-scenes discussions to walk back the original offer to McElroy, contradicting Banks' public statements that she had no knowledge of changes to the offer."</blockquote>
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It's breathtaking that so many spineless people are in positions of power, particularly to the point where they can destroy the solid foundation that has existed for so long. And yet, here we are, and it's not just one isolated incident.
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As for Prof. Joy Alonso and that fiasco, could our state at last be free of the reign of terror that we all continue to have to endure? Is one man and his perceived status as sufficiently wise qualified to be a dictator?
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Finally, as with all things Aggie, the one thing we always have is hope. That’s what the late Education Prof. John Hoyle used to tell us in our Educational Futures class: “The Aggies always have hope.” That applies to more than just the football team. We’ve had enough “stinkin’ thinkin’ as he used to call it, to last a decade. Today, we can celebrate the entry of Gen. (Ret’d.) Mark A. Welsh III as Interim President of Texas A&M.
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In my opinion, there is no one better to lead our university out of this deep morass of embarrassment and back into prominence than President Welsh. His career with the U.S. Air Force is sufficient proof of his leadership skill, yet his success as Dean of the Bush School of Government and Public Service is further testament to being the right person at the right time for Texas A&M, in fact just in the nick of time. He led an Air Force that featured highly qualified men and women as fighter pilots, teams of culturally and ethnically diverse service personnel who likely belong to groups in their own time that comprise a wide spectrum of beliefs.
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You know, when you’re in the midst of battle in the air or fighting in a fox hole on the ground, the only thing on your mind is to do your job and protect your team, no one left behind. That’s the basic principle of education—no child left behind. As it should ever be. There is no need to fear. The Aggies are here to stay—all of us. God bless us all and continue to keep us safe from those who would choose to lead by fear.
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0Ln3G8fFqtifrjxe29AwGUQ8vQkGpHVSGX2EEC3JF3jDICMdJ6RqI-V6tSNwNIsZeHXP50XrK--NmFg3j5rw4lukLE2s46kUxlzirUXEMnf0q4-PNGjdv4IX3TZINswB7xCZhxVNxwGu_QE-s7KPDfVf47HPF5ybSdnlpRc5XJPX4XwNARBVNz7SKb89i/s800/Dont-be-afraid-of-change.png" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="320" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="800" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0Ln3G8fFqtifrjxe29AwGUQ8vQkGpHVSGX2EEC3JF3jDICMdJ6RqI-V6tSNwNIsZeHXP50XrK--NmFg3j5rw4lukLE2s46kUxlzirUXEMnf0q4-PNGjdv4IX3TZINswB7xCZhxVNxwGu_QE-s7KPDfVf47HPF5ybSdnlpRc5XJPX4XwNARBVNz7SKb89i/s320/Dont-be-afraid-of-change.png"/></a></div>
[<i>Note</i>: Post updated to include reference source from Texas Tribune re text messages between TAMU Regents and former President Banks.]
Dawn Lee Wakefieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04820422116291835694noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-116415734187328679.post-36682400072870078392023-05-22T00:19:00.117-07:002023-05-22T01:25:48.333-07:00The Eagle Begins a Rapid Descent Into the Abyss <div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiinf-eXV_60seCctExVbYjZdrSzgKUmTbKf7wx1wpb8Zwjp0PAcqhi_wOLbJCgKmG6OkeCEZOm9Xh8eDQ3DxQY810HRS5KkOGaY-h7xyabxS2M-IyJ0aCHUCKorfbjjTm3K7Hr_bT2a0Rsb9RKSDypvJ1v8ao9vu00X4w4ZEHBMtJpZyQdlkL_mZkBTQ/s940/The%20Eagle.png" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; clear: left; float: left;"><img alt="" border="0" width="400" data-original-height="788" data-original-width="940" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiinf-eXV_60seCctExVbYjZdrSzgKUmTbKf7wx1wpb8Zwjp0PAcqhi_wOLbJCgKmG6OkeCEZOm9Xh8eDQ3DxQY810HRS5KkOGaY-h7xyabxS2M-IyJ0aCHUCKorfbjjTm3K7Hr_bT2a0Rsb9RKSDypvJ1v8ao9vu00X4w4ZEHBMtJpZyQdlkL_mZkBTQ/s400/The%20Eagle.png"/></a></div>Keeping score of “Unpopular business decisions in Bryan-College Station,” today’s announcement in the opinion column of <i>The Eagle</i> zoomed to Number 1, but two more run a close second and third. More on those others later.
<p>
Since 2020 when <a href="https://lee.net/" target="_blank">Lee Enterprises</a> took over <i>The Eagle</i> and others of Warren Buffet’s giant media sources, it joined what today is the “family” of “nearly 350 weekly and specialty publications serving 77 markets in 26 states,” seemed at first to be a good thing to be in the family with the St. Louis <i>Post-Dispatch</i>, the Omaha <i>World-Herald</i>, and <i>nwi.com</i> among other of their brands. And yet, it’s been a disaster.
<p>
Never mind the soap opera through the years but when <i>The Eagle</i>’s editor, Darren Benson, was laid off one month ago and Steve Boggs, the editor of the Waco<i> Tribune-Herald</i> took over as Regional Editor of BOTH the Waco <i>Tribune-Herald</i> and <i>The</i> <i>Eagle</i>, one <a href="https://www.kbtx.com/2022/04/26/eagle-editor-laid-off-position-will-now-be-based-out-waco/" target="_blank">promise</a> was “<i>The Eagle</i> Media Company’s newsroom and advertising teams will remain at <i>The Eagle </i>and not oursourced to the Waco<i> Tribune-Herald.</i>”
<p>
It was just March 14 when I called the local number for <i>The Eagle</i> as I’d received an e-mail that my digital subscription renewal price of $5.00/mo to $14.07/mo with the explanation: “The new price reflects our value as the unmatched No. 1 source for local news and sports coverage of the city and surrounding region.”
<p>
I dialed and the person answered, “Waco <i>Tribune-Herald</i>, how may I direct your call?” I said, “I called The Bryan <i>Eagle</i>, I’d like to talk to them.” She said, “Yes, this is the Waco <i>Tribune-Herald</i> and we can handle your question.” I said, “For <i>The Eagle</i>?” and she said, “Yes.” I said, "I’d like to cancel my digital subscription to the paper because of the 150% price increase." She said, “Let me connect you with online subscriptions.”
<p>
“Waco <i>Tribune-Herald</i>,” the new operator said, and I repeated “I’d like to cancel my digital subscription when it’s up at the end of May.” She replied, “What’s your phone number and address?” I gave her those items, and added my name, not that she was interested. I had a minute to reread <i>The Eagle</i> e-mail’s list of promises for what they were “continue to” deliver in the new price structure:
<p>
<blockquote></blockquote>
• Breaking news as it happens
• Award-winning photography and slideshows
• New Podcasts and video stories
• The latest food and dining reviews
• Best-in-class coverage of your favorite sports teams<blockquote></blockquote>
<p>
I shook my head to think that I’d stopped buying copies of the daily paper at $2.00/issue and then the Sunday paper at double that (at first before going up again) after they'd been $.75/issue and $1.25 on Sundays.
<p>
A five-minute negotiation session began when I simply asked them not to renew my digital subscription for $14.07/mo as I’d been paying $52 for the prior year’s digital subscription. From $52 to $168.84? She offered me three lower rates over the phone each time I did not agree to continue my subscription. She even took me back to the same rate that I had now as an offer for a year. I declined, noting that it was unfair to correct the bills of only those who called to cancel. Why not leave the rates as they were and try to build new followers at a similarly fair price? I was not contentious or sarcastic.
<p>
And, I noted they were not even a local accounting office to speak with. We’re the home community to Texas A&M University, by enrollment the second largest college in the United States, and we don’t even merit the regional office location? Fascinating. Today, on p. A11, Steve Boggs claimed that “in the Brazos Valley, they’d grown their digital customers more than 35% over the past 12 months alone!” That was before the big digital price increase. Let’s watch what happens to their numbers with today's announced price changes.
<p>
Waco’s population is estimated as 141.997 (the 24th largest city in Texas). Bryan’s population is estimated at 89,017 (46th largest) and College Station is 121,009 (29th largest) and together, B-CS is 268,248 people without students per the 2020 census. Check the math but it doesn’t make sense. Why is the regional leadership in Waco, not in Bryan-College Station?
<p>
Today, when the Steve Boggs’ opinion column (on p. A11) announced the new plan to print three days a week, deliver by U.S.P.O. vs. a friendly, longtime carrier who wakes up at 1 am to support their family with their route, a price increase of 150% over last year for the digital (you can’t blame this on the price of ink and paper as bandwidth isn’t that expensive), and what did, let’s Regional Editor Steve, promise? Not that we know Steve, have ever met Steve, or have even once seen Steve, because he neither lives nor works here; what did he promise?
<p>
He said, “They” are:
<P>
<blockquote></blockquote>
• “Still a team of dedicated local journalists who work for a local news company.
• Still care deeply about our readers.
• We live here, we work here, we are part of the fabric of this community. And.
• We couldn’t do this vital work without you and your financial support of local news.
• Every dollar counts—for you, and for our news organization—and your commitment allows us to sustain and grow local journalism in this community.”<blockquote></blockquote>
<p>
Breaking news overnight will not appear in the morning’s paper unless it occurs on Monday, Wednesday or Saturday nights. But wait, that’s not really the case. Recently the way that funeral homes could submit obituaries to appear in the paper for families changed. They stopped staffing that office on weekends, so death notices and obituaries would not appear until at least Tuesday after the weekend unless you got it in before Friday. Good luck to those in the in-between gap periods. That’s just not right.
<p>
In fact, it was ridiculous, and every funeral home in town has been inconvenienced by that change, not to mention their ever-rising costs that the families have to pay for what used to be a public service at no charge. Wedding announcements and funeral notices used to be a courtesy—remember that? Remember when the publisher of The Eagle would grant amazing amounts of space to advertise upcoming fundraising events as community partners and media sponsors? It wasn’t that long ago.
<p>
Times change and prices change. That’s understandable. An online subscription to the Houston Chronicle is $20/month. The Dallas Morning News is similarly $20/mo. But they still have daily carrier-delivered newspapers, they have not wrecked their choice of comic strips, nor have they removed the all-important TV grid from the daily listings, three reasons we had to look forward to the paper. We’d already had the loss of the TV guide for several months now.
<p>
Forget saying happy birthday to the young athlete whose photo appears on the sports pages each day. KBTX-TV will still include that for you on the morning show. Forget looking for coverage of local sporting events on non-print days Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays, and Sundays. They promise more “watchdog journalism” on their three print days—Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays and a reading experience “bursting with local news and opinions.”
<p>
Letters to the Editor, of course, will be hit or miss with spotty reading depending on your subscription path. Any chance to hold local officials accountable for decisions and votes might drift over to TexAgs or MyBCS or other new local bulletin board site for news that could pop up in weeks/months to come.
<p>
In my more than four decades of <i>Eagle</i> readership here as a community resident and citizen, no matter who has owned the newspaper before, I truly believe that everyone did their best to bring the news and reflect the community values of our special combined cities that comprise the entire Brazos Valley — until now.
<P>
This entire traumatic development did not occur overnight. It’s been particularly in the last ten years of the Warren Buffet-led demise. Buffet’s Berkshire-Hathaway bought <i>The Eagle</i> in <a href="https://www.chron.com/news/houston-texas/article/The-Eagle-of-Bryan-College-Station-changes-3629050.php" target="_blank">2012</a> with a circulation of 20,000 and close to 100 employees. At the time it had been an important community presence for the preceding 123 years. <p>
In 2020, Lee Enterprises bought 30 papers from the Berkshire-Hathaway Media Group after Buffet had helped bail Lee Enterprises out of bankruptcy some years prior and then still retained a level of ownership in Lee Enterprises, though to a lesser extent. At the time TV station KXXV <a href="https://www.kxxv.com/news/local-news/two-area-papers-bought-by-lee-enterprises" target="_blank">reported</a> Buffet as saying he was a “lifelong fan of newspapers but …expects most of them to continue on their declining trajectory, save for a handful of national papers.” Sort of like throwing the candy wrapper over the edge of your boat while you’re sailing, you don’t care what happens to the water after you’re back on land.
<P>
The only employee that I can think of who has lasted throughout the duration of some three decades, whose presence used to identify <i>The Eagle </i> to the community is Robert Borden. Since October 1986, Robert Borden has worked at <i>The Eagle</i>; that’s almost 37 years, friends…he’s the Opinions Editor, you know him as head writer for the Sunday Arts Watch (after longtime staffer Jim Butler left), he’s on the Editorial Board.
<p>
That was the same editorial board where former colleague Margaret Ann Zipp once served with him and penned her fun “It’s Like This” column of local news in addition to being a copy editor—a position woefully long since forgotten, and finally, a reporter, who I won’t name, who had his home broken into and his hard drive stolen once while pursuing a local investigative story, but still stayed there and published stories anyway for another two years. He embodied free speech and investigative journalism at a time when it was not popular to criticize the university for fear of advertising dollars at risk.
<P>
Then, there was a young, determined reporter who took on early investigative stories and pursued them relentlessly, won awards, and ultimately became editor–Kelly Brown. She stayed for almost three decades before she saw the handwriting and jumped over to TAMU, and that was the end of hard-hitting stories in <i>The Eagle</i>.
<p>
And, my favorite former Editor and Publisher, Donnis Baggett, who wasn’t afraid to print stories that might not be flattering because they were newsworthy and relevant. He was good under pressure and he unnerved more than a few city officials back in the day when all the contracts and agreements saw the disinfecting light of day. So many people have forgotten those days because well...football, and Aggie Park, and well, football.<p>
You know what all four of these named stalwart journalists had in common? You’d see them throughout the community, constantly. They attended the events we read about. They knew the leaders they wrote about. They volunteered countless hours of their own time across numerous key volunteer-driven nonprofits here. Each of us benefited from the work they did off the job as much as the work they did on the job. <p>
Robert Borden, the last one standing, has written countless beautiful obituary tributes and reflections over key citizens in our community, noting with ease their achievements and things that were important to them, because he knew them, had more than just met them. He’s a champion of the Brazos Valley Symphony Orchestra and served in numerous leadership positions, he keeps people aware of the greatness of Brazos Valley Troupe and other organizations that don’t always have automatic audiences without a little help. He’s served on the board of the Brazos Valley Food Bank and countless other things you don’t see or know of. Most of all, he’s survived every administrative change that has been made in the past 37 years.
<p>
If things continue at <i>The Eagle</i> the way they appear to be going, with no one rising up as a private citizen to purchase it and set it back on a reasonable, normal course of operation, nor engendering community support vs. community disgust, it will undoubtedly be Robert Borden that writes the final opinion on the last day the paper appears in print. It doesn’t have to be this way. The story doesn’t have to end this way. You just don’t take something that has been “working” continuously since 1889 and project its demise and mumble that it’s just a darned shame things turned out this way.
<p>
Surely there is fire in someone’s soul to pursue fixing this problem. Those who believe in a free press, those who know the relevance of reporting the truth before someone like Elon Musk replaces Jack Dorsey and starts ruining everything about the platform his predecessors worked hard to build (and maintain at an appropriate level of oversight); someone must be out there to right this ship before we sing "The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald" again. Ask yourselves who it is that should oversee, and daresay protect, the public from one-sided journalism that just pleases certain elected officials?
<p>
Will it now be a mouthpiece of the wit and wisdom of say, Dan Patrick [aka Dannie Scott Goeb], sportscaster turned senior-citizen-intolerant, genius, who wants to upend Texas education by abolishing tenure at Texas state universities? That's a second disaster in waiting...when people who possess no postgraduate academic credentials nor have achieved tenure at a purportedly scholarly university start making decisions about how and when it should be applied or removed, folks, that's trouble in River City.
<p>
And, if <i>The Eagle</i> continues on its wildly erratic descent into oblivion, you certainly won't read the opinions of anyone who disagrees with dear old Dan and if you have a complaint, just call...Waco? Surely not. The Faculty Senate has tried repeatedly to point out the dangers, but you're not seeing a vast number of stories that truly bring to light what the genuine issues are and what it means in dollars, reputations, faculty retention, attracting the best and brightest students, and the true future reputation of Texas A&M University. Your most current and newsworthy reporting about this topic of tenure is on WTAW-AM and in its morning headlines in your e-mail boxes.
<p>
There is always hope. For those who care about our community and preserving the best of its small-town charm in an ever-growing culture of a once highly regarded academic institution, although it has always been beloved (there's a difference)—someone can make a difference. Asked “what can just one person do?” The answer is PLENTY. Hoping a few of you who are so inclined will band together to save <i>The Eagle</i> before it’s too late and we lose so many of our prestigious faculty who are unknown by name to most folks in town outside the campus. The issue means everything to the future of this university as well as all state universities.
<p>
Otherwise, soon the headlines will read: <b>RIP<i> The Eagle</i> and "Texas A&M experiences sudden substantial faculty losses, drop in enrollment expected"</b>
Dawn Lee Wakefieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04820422116291835694noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-116415734187328679.post-11024585057777265232023-05-16T00:45:00.018-07:002023-05-16T01:33:51.980-07:00ABC is Oblivious to Potential of “The Company You Keep”<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4NWQHN-fsFq-TQxniKIm_C39-aGweFI10bPW_aZhXmWrhiwS6efzWr9oGGqFlV_-9Fe8-lqhSd0EYkYupr75kgBdfwM8hmweEz6UxaSNnLdE3epovJCuUvYsihQYlCeLjRNu5ETXAQ-MieWTjF5JAealSZXV9MF0VXA6c7LNdgC_CLjJB12CxRFOoNw/s500/TCO_S1_KA_Hero_1080x1350_V3_Exclusive-400x0.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; clear: left; float: left;"><img alt="" border="0" height="320" data-original-height="500" data-original-width="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4NWQHN-fsFq-TQxniKIm_C39-aGweFI10bPW_aZhXmWrhiwS6efzWr9oGGqFlV_-9Fe8-lqhSd0EYkYupr75kgBdfwM8hmweEz6UxaSNnLdE3epovJCuUvYsihQYlCeLjRNu5ETXAQ-MieWTjF5JAealSZXV9MF0VXA6c7LNdgC_CLjJB12CxRFOoNw/s320/TCO_S1_KA_Hero_1080x1350_V3_Exclusive-400x0.jpg"/></a></div>
<P>For some unknown reasons, <a href="https://theorg.com/org/disney/org-chart/vicki-dummer" target="_blank">Vicki Dummer</a>, the whiz-bang exec at ABC programming land, and her team in charge of current series programming has “opted not to renew for a second season” of their new drama “The Company You Keep,” as reported in <a href="https://deadline.com/2023/05/the-company-you-keep-canceled-abc-milo-ventimiglia-1235360897/" target="_blank">Deadline Season</a>.
<P>
Given its entry at 10pm EST Sunday nights, it was up against the final season of the beloved NBC series “The Blacklist,” so it was barely given a flying chance of survival from the onset. The cast of “The Company” is solid: Milo Ventimiglia has the lead, William Fichtner, Catherine Haena Kim, Polly Draper, and Tim Chiou. However, the competition is really tough: "The Blacklist" has (said in William Shatner voice ala Denny Crane: "James Spader." so there's that.
<p>
But they're concluding the series run after 10 years, and at the exact right time. Spader himself knew when to close the doors:
I think if the show went beyond this year, it would turn into a very different show, and I think the thing that has been nice about this show was that we've never really had a clear paradigm for the show. Tonally the show shifts a lot from episode to episode, and I think even the show has taken strange turns, and I suspect that the show, if it went much further, would just become something that would be less recognizable to me." Ah, if only the "NCIS" folks were self-aware of where they are.
<p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijKBbI9VzAHaiIZyDl5O-6FRBL3rBgaOf_NTKey8XUz_LyZFErLB_JWxVuU65Lyki-prLukCd-VzELu2J9i5SFONhqqSmBb0F5Sqm3ctb3MEGgngDHqQwXJr5v2F7WpTUSHgGM5R2xbcMgPVjoy7OZRMng3WV-knc327TdXpVrT9d86J5IrO_g3_QFeg/s900/166161_PR_Comp_V4-900x0.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="400" data-original-height="545" data-original-width="900" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijKBbI9VzAHaiIZyDl5O-6FRBL3rBgaOf_NTKey8XUz_LyZFErLB_JWxVuU65Lyki-prLukCd-VzELu2J9i5SFONhqqSmBb0F5Sqm3ctb3MEGgngDHqQwXJr5v2F7WpTUSHgGM5R2xbcMgPVjoy7OZRMng3WV-knc327TdXpVrT9d86J5IrO_g3_QFeg/s400/166161_PR_Comp_V4-900x0.jpg"/></a></div>
<P>
WILLIAM FICHTNER, SARAH WAYNE CALLIES, POLLY DRAPER, MILO VENTIMIGLIA, FELISHA TERRELL, CATHERINE HAENA KIM, TIM CHIOU, FREDA FOH SHEN, JAMES SAITO166161_PR_Comp_V4
THE COMPANY YOU KEEP – ABC’s “The Company You Keep” stars William Fichtner as Leo, Sarah Wayne Callies as Birdie, Polly Draper as Fran, Milo Ventimiglia as Charlie, Felisha Terrell as Daphne, Catherine Haena Kim as Emma, Tim Chiou as David Hill, Freda Foh Shen as Grace Hill, and James Saito as Joe Hill. [Photo: ABC/Brian Bowen Smith]
<p>
The plot is fresh, albeit as an American adaptation of an already hit show (“My Fellow Citizens”) on South Korean television. You have an Italian American family with a skill for working as a family on high-level con jobs while running the neighborhood favorite bar. No staffing issues required for the job to hire out, just immediate family, down to the youngest teen. Young adult male falls for a model-lovely young female CIA agent, from “an Asian American political <a href="https://deadline.com/2023/05/the-company-you-keep-canceled-abc-milo-ventimiglia-1235360897/" target="_blank">dynasty</a>.”
<p>
The plots are fresh, the writing is solid, and the pace is strong. Scene to scene, you don’t flip the channel during commercials as you might miss something when you return late. The acting is strong from all cast members, major to minor. Action sequences abound at breathtaking pace, and then you relax at the corner bar; no. the bar owned by the Nicoletti family really is called “The Corner Bar” in the show. Kudos go to <a href="https://deadline.com/2022/05/ben-younger-direct-exec-produce-the-company-you-keep-abc-drama-pilot-milo-ventimiglia-1235017824/" target="_blank">Ben Younger</a>, who serves as director and executive producer for the 20th Television show.
<p>
Writer and Executive Producer <a href="https://deadline.com/2022/05/ben-younger-direct-exec-produce-the-company-you-keep-abc-drama-pilot-milo-ventimiglia-1235017824/" target="_blank">Julia Cohen</a> brings together a great cast, solid sets, and just the right blend of scripts, serving as showrunner, to keep audiences coming back each week. Co-showrunner and co-Executive Producer is Phil Klemmer ("DC's Legends of Tomorrow" for seven seasons). This is Cohen’s largest task to date, but she earned her stripes after years as co-executive producer for a season of “Quantico” and “A Million Little Things” for three seasons. Given the nature of shows being posted and pulled as quickly from prime time slots as a teenage fisherman learning to cast with rod and reel, having one season of a solid show should indicate potential. And the fact that you can stream the show on Hulu is an added bonus for those with busy schedules. It has all the right elements but is just waiting until "The Blacklist" concludes its tenth and final season this month.
<p>
Yes, there’s Amazon and Sony Pictures and other independent venues out working for viewing time. I have to confess to waiting for another season of “Leverage: Redemption” to appear on Freevee television. The successful reboot of the old TNT original “Leverage” is actually stronger than the first, thanks to Dean Devlin’s fresh take on the show he created. Again, plots were fresh, bright and the actors were dynamic in their approach to what could have been predictable dialogue. There was a family atmosphere there as well. Waiting for hopefully more shows with "the hitter, the hacker, the grifter, and the thief," and if you want to know what that means, just visit <a href="https://www.amazon.com/gp/video/storefront/?contentType=subscription&contentId=freewithads&benefitId=freewithads" target="_blank">Freevee</a>.
<p>
Another Freevee original is the Canadian “Pretty Hard Cases” that pairs two previously unknown actresses as an unlucky pair of detectives and it works. The show has humor, brains, and they get it all done neatly, thanks to strong writing by Tassie Cameron and Sherry White, and two actresses, Meredith MacNeill and Adrienne C. Moore, who bring the energy to each episode. Still waiting on more shows to drop, if they're in production yet. That happens with non-prime-time network shows where they don't tell you on every media outlet they own what's going on behind the scenes.
<p>
It is that same fresh-show quality that “The Company You Keep” has, in a dramatic procedural where audiences meet, learn, know, and grow along with the show. Donald Bellisario was a genius at developing these shows that featured humor along with detective work, action sequences, some aspect of military life, and yes, family. Bellisario brought us “JAG,” “NCIS,” “Quantum Leap” and then spinoffs happened. Some were good; others, without Bellisario involved, were and are dreadful.
<p>
The starpower that Milo Ventimiglia brings to any show shouldn’t be in question. After all, his was the character you recall best from “This is Us,” the NBC staple that gave them a ratings win for the slot each week from 2016-2022 and won four Primetime Emmys among their awards. No one should be comparing Milo’s acting to “Gilmore Girls” any longer, which they could have done had they only known that show and missed out on “This is Us.”
<p>
It's doubtful that anyone watching “The Company You Keep” thinks of “Team Jess” once during the show. Actors can morph into anyone you need them to, and Ventimiglia and Kim do a great job in carrying the load.
<p>
Kim already had experience as a fed—she played Special Agent Emily Ryder on a season of “FBI” shows. A strong supporting cast is the great addition to the mix and this show has something special that doesn’t bore you to death the way so many other series can. No one is tired of their role or has been permanently cast into predictability. It's another trip back to childhood to see recurring guest Geoff Stults (remember the hearthrob with the almost twin lookalike brother in "Seventh Heaven" who wound up with the sisters?).
<p>
You’d think that summer would be a great time to re-introduce the show and meanwhile order some more episodes for fall. Everyone is about “American Idol”-ed, “The Voice”-ed and “America’s Got Talent”-ed out at this point and Netflix, Hulu, and Amazon are sitting there with fresh programming just waiting to be enjoyed. Come on ABC, think about it.
<p>
If not, CBS you are overdue for fresh shows. Look at the mess they made of “NCIS,” <a href="https://tvseriesfinale.com/tv-show/ncis-season-21-2023-24-renewal-announced-for-cbs-action-series/#:~:text=CBS%20has%20renewed%20NCIS%20for,David%20McCallum%2C%20and%20Gary%20Cole." target="_blank">keeping</a> the original (now sleep-inducing) show for the 21st year, cancelling the still interesting one (“NCIS: “LA”), and renewing the banal “NCIS-Hawaii” for reasons known only to them. <P>
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However, they hold the distinction of “America’s Most-Watched Network in Primetime” for 15 years now, so they know something NBC doesn’t. Hmm, could be the next home for “The Company You Keep”?
<p>
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Is that your final answer for “The Company You Keep,” ABC? Change your mind and perhaps be pleasantly surprised. It would also be good news for Ventimiglia, who together with his company, DiVide Pictures and Russ Cundiff and Deanna Harris are co-producers. That was very "Jess" of him to be smart enough to invest in his own work from the beginning.
<p>
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There’s more than one story of a show being tanked and saved to come back for another try, only to gain a Top 10 ratings spot and foothold for years and massive dollars in <a href="https://tvseriesfinale.com/tv-show/ncis-season-21-2023-24-renewal-announced-for-cbs-action-series/#:~:text=CBS%20has%20renewed%20NCIS%20for,David%20McCallum%2C%20and%20Gary%20Cole." target="_blank">syndication</a>: “Friends,” “Seinfeld,” and “The Big Bang Theory.” <p>
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Who knows? It could happen.
<p>
[photos Friends and Seinfeld: NBC Universal; NCIS: Paramount Press]
Dawn Lee Wakefieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04820422116291835694noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-116415734187328679.post-68074267064366994412023-02-20T03:45:00.037-08:002023-02-20T04:18:43.498-08:00The Unending Heart of My Cousin, Whose Love Lives on Forever<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv5SkWN0isrgyFDtE6aGRC2AW0fcRlV51ayqjgYTn5wj3bRbKcEKu2oS5X8-uSBwdBrbtbFcF7GBGjPwFbkaMzHIDwV1fA7zPtfRuhoeEvI5FU-fW_CaoNr1FyNMU34cG2CfWch_5JR_cVFjS5-ChOcONO8kIJFeXEuz2_8eB5OL3GJm0uY_JZx4rPIQ/s200/Minor%20Jr..jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; clear: right; float: right;"><img alt="" border="0" width="320" data-original-height="150" data-original-width="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgv5SkWN0isrgyFDtE6aGRC2AW0fcRlV51ayqjgYTn5wj3bRbKcEKu2oS5X8-uSBwdBrbtbFcF7GBGjPwFbkaMzHIDwV1fA7zPtfRuhoeEvI5FU-fW_CaoNr1FyNMU34cG2CfWch_5JR_cVFjS5-ChOcONO8kIJFeXEuz2_8eB5OL3GJm0uY_JZx4rPIQ/s320/Minor%20Jr..jpg"/></a></div>On Monday afternoon, Feb. 13, in St. Louis, visitation was held for my cousin, Minor (it’s a family name), one of my 21 first cousins on my mother’s side of the family. The funeral was on Valentine’s Tuesday at 11 am. Rather than say “how strange to have a funeral on Valentine’s Day,” I can think of no better day than to see his life celebrated and remembered than on a day where love is shared and hearts are remembered. Minor’s heart was substantial, and his love was deep. It was just his way.
<P>
Because we all live so far apart, through the years, it was impossible to consider that we would have annual family reunions and everyone stay in touch. However, it was of great importance to my mother that I, as an only child, have a sense of “belonging to a large family.” After all, she grew up as one of eight siblings, the first five closest in age, and the others coming along during their teen years.
<p>
I was five years old when I went to St. Louis for the first Christmas at my grandparents’ home. I met five of my cousins that week, three brothers and a brother and a sister, and it was amazing to imagine that this only child was suddenly surrounded by “family.” Two years later I was back in St. Louis for the funeral of my grandfather. There were some more cousins there in addition to the ones I’d met, but frankly, it was a somber time. I now had to process a loss of a grandfather I barely knew together with meeting more people who were “my family” I barely knew.
<p>
Just as soon as I had family, it seemed I was losing them. I wasn’t ready for loss. But there was Minor, three years older than me, who sensed that I was alone out on an island of silence, wondering what was happening around me. He told me not to worry, that everything would be alright. He enlisted his next oldest brother, Donald, in joining him in teaching me how to play pool, in the basement of the family house. I found myself comforted, and lots of conversation ensued. Soon, my sorrow turned to a calm sense of “everything is going to be okay.” Minor sensed my pain and stepped up, with Donald, to keep me and their youngest brother Steve, so busy we didn’t have time to hurt. That was Minor, taking care.
<p>
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<p>
The next time we were together was the death of their mother, their dad’s second wife, who had long battled a debilitating illness. We went back to St. Louis for the funeral and now I was a bit older. The boys hugged me when they saw me and somehow I found myself saying to them, “It’s going to be alright.” Minor, the oldest, was the strongest. I hurt most for them because their lives to that point had been anything but easy. From the time they were about eight years old and younger, they knew their dad was working hard at his day job and then when he came home, he cared for their mom.
<p>
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<p>
Minor knew about all the medicines his mom took, helped cook, all the boys cleaned the house, and they managed to do well in school and even found time to play baseball. They stayed “out of trouble” because they knew everyone already had enough on their plates. They essentially raised themselves. As soon as Minor could mow the lawn he did. Soon, Donald was right there with him, and they started a lawnmowing business. Steve joined as soon as he was able. They worked all over the neighborhood and did well for themselves. They wanted to do something to help make a difference, realizing how hard times were.
<p>
Over the years, the brothers excelled at high school baseball, all of them. Minor attended all the games he could, and then their mother died. We went back to St. Louis, Mom and I, because that’s what you did for family. You showed up. You hugged and you cried together. My cousins were brave. My uncle’s heart was broken and it wasn’t easy, but still the brothers held it together, beautifully, because of Minor’s example. “Everything is going to be okay.” There in an act of superhuman strength, was Minor comforting his brothers, and now me. I believed him.
<p>
By the time Minor was close to finishing high school, he was offered a tryout with the St. Louis Cardinals. He was a power hitter, to be sure, and although he didn’t make the cut, it’s not often a childhood dream come true to just have the chance to try out. He took the disappointment well. After all, it’s what he did. Kept it inside for reassurance for the ones who looked to him for leadership; everyone assumed without a thought that everything was going to be okay. That was Minor. He bounced back.
<p>
He was a natural at math; everything came to him so easily; in fact, all three brothers were gifted in math. Still are today. Minor moved up in his job at the bank, from teller to eventually working in the vault. Eventually he signed up to enter the U.S. Navy. His dad had entered the Navy during wartime of WWII, and while a wartime experience was anything but easy for his dad, perhaps he had always wanted to travel and the Navy was one way to see the world, or at least it was what he hoped it would be. Donald and Steve drove to Texas while I was in college for a great visit and Minor wanted to go to Florida on his vacation, so he did. He needed a chance to do something for himself than give away every last minute “for family’s sake.” I’m glad he did.
<p>
The next gathering time was when my Grandmother passed away. Does this sound familiar? The only time many families “should be close” is the only time they seem to be—during periods of loss and sorrow. I have always loved families who gather together each year for food, fellowship, and remembrances of childhood. They just pick up where they left off. Laughter usually abounds, and hugs flow freely.
<p>
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<p>
The three brothers were married not long thereafter; two of them are nearing their 50th annivesaries. I was still in school but we hoped to do a better job of getting together. Occasional phone calls helped and I’ll never forget that when I finished college, the first card that came was from Minor. He wrote me a four-page letter about how proud he was of me for finishing college. He caught me up on family news and frankly, I will never forget it because I felt like I really did have family, distance notwithstanding. I still have that letter.
<p>
His wife became pregnant with their first son, Seth, during his service and sadly, it was discovered that their little one was born with cerebral palsy. The young couple bravely tried to learn what to do and how to cope with the disease and Minor did his exercises with his little one every day. Ultimately, Seth only lived two years. Minor was devastated beyond any other passing in his life before. The grief had been building for years, no doubt. But who’s to say? I’m no professional. He received a medical discharge from the Navy and then set about trying to find life after when all his plans were crushed.
<p>
Minor and Debi gave birth to another son, Sean Michael, a few years later, and as soon as he could comprehend it, he knew he had an older brother but one who was no longer here on earth, a fairly daunting fact to process when you’re a little guy, but he followed the tradition of appearing stoic. When Minor and Debi divorced, times were not easy, but Minor was comfortable being a dad with his buddy Sean, but he was not quick to discipline him at first, as he loved him so much. He just didn’t want to lose him.
<p>
When Sean was four, Minor drove them down to “Texas” to see Aunt Marguerite and Dawn. Into the room walks this little towheaded blonde with the buzz cut, his steely blue eyes surveying his surroundings and wondering who Aunt Marguerite was and why Minor loved her. Mom assessed the little fellow’s disposition toward mischief and waited to see how things played out. Sean was brilliant and Minor was so proud. He kept addressing him as “Dad Junior,” because he’d always heard his mom refer to him as “Junior,” the family nickname for the eldest and namesake of their dad.
<p>
Mom decided he needed to show his dad more respect, and let him know that he should address his father as “Dad,” although it took a day or two for him to even think about whether he was going to. Meanwhile, Sean presented with a list of things he did and didn’t like about Houston. Most of all, he didn’t like being told what to do. We took them to some of the outdoor Houston attractions and restaurants, Minor and Sean enjoyed outdoor Houston life and it wasn’t long before Sean called Minor “Dad,” just Dad. Progress!
<p>
It was to be Easter weekend, so Mom and Minor took Sean shopping for some new Spring and Summer clothes. The “boys” looked dapper in their new outfits and Minor was proud of how Sean was growing up. Sean’s Mom had gotten him a contemporary haircut—a buzz cut, but he had a small rat tail at the back of his neck, gently indicating we might just have a tad of a rebel in the making.
<p>
At bathtime, we’d gotten Sean some Mr. Bubble bubblebath and a cool Mr. Bubble shampoo…he was patient as Minor and Mom were about to shampoo his head but he blurted out, “I don’t want any of that stuff on my head,” and both of them burst out laughing. His candor and self-awareness was refreshing. We took them to Dos Pesos Café for an authentic Mexican meal. Sean really liked the queso but when he reached for the salsa to try it, after one bite of the spicy stuff said, very loudly, “Yuck, I hate that stuff.” We laughed and quickly forgot about it as he returned to his queso.
<p>
Easter Sunday came and the four of us went to my Episcopal church in Galleria where I’d been living. On the drive over we prepared Sean for the process of communion where he would go up to the railing with us and cross his arms as he knelt at the altar and the priest would give him a blessing by placing his hand on his head as he went down the row.
<p>
Minor reminded him of what Aunt Marguerite had said right before we exited our pew to make the way to the front and Sean folded his little hands and approached the altar. Somewhere between seeing the adults around him open their hands and place them palms up as the priest and the communion assistant approached, the plan changed. Sean was kneeling at the altar, between his dad and my Mom, and I was to the right of my Mom. I saw what was coming, but it seemed to play out in slow motion. As I extended my hands palm forward and received the communion wafer, then Mom did, and then…Sean unfolded his hands and the communion assistant placed a wafer into Sean’s hands. Uh oh!
<p>
Taking his cue from seeing us place the wafers in our mouths, Sean followed suit. Apparently he didn’t like the taste. I saw the look come over his face and I knew what was about to follow. He said (loudly), “Yuck, I hate thaa-at!” and just as soon as that happened, both Mom and Minor clamped their free hands over Sean’s mouth as they saw the priest gently rocking from laughter (apparently he had grandchildren).
<p>
After the chalice went down the row, and we exited back to the congregation, I happened to notice two men standing near the wall, wearing trenchcoats, in mid spring. They had quiet smiles on their faces and seemed amused…remembering that this, too, was the home church of our 41st U.S. President and his family and as it was Easter, they were back in town and the trenchcoats were being worn by the Secret Service.
<p>
My eyes scanned that row as I made my way back to my seat and I saw the President and his wife smiling broadly, in a most understanding fashion. They had grandchildren, too, and could empathize. We were all relieved to make our way back to anonymity in the pews. Until this day, Sean never knew who else was there in church with us. So far, it has been my favorite Easter memory.
<p>
Little Sean grew up into a little guy playing t-ball and soccer and moved into other sports, and Minor was able to watch him, proudly. Yet, Sean's life was anything but easy; growing up these days is a challenge on its own, much less considering extraneous factors. He was born into a family that was strong on love but short on health. Minor lost his own Mom pretty early in his life and then as Sean was growing up, he saw his own Dad acting as a caregiver to his grandfather.
<p>
After Minor Sr. passed away, the family collected again together in grief to pay final respects for the loss of a beloved father and grandfather. Still, Sean was too young to know how to process loss, but he’d certainly sustained enough to last a lifetime. Sorrow just seemed to be in the air and seeing his own dad go through different emotions at different times could not have been easy. Both of them tried but they both had a touch of stubborness in them that made them almost identical in that fashion.
<p>
After the loss of his dad, Minor Jr. drove Sean back to Texas. This time they seemed to be doing really well together, and Sean spoke respectfully to his Dad. This time I was in College Station and working on campus. I took him to work with me one morning and my Dean came down the hall. I wasn’t sure “which” Sean would show up that day. But of course. My Dean extended his hand to Sean when I introduced them and Sean wasn’t having any of it. He didn’t shake his hand nor speak. I said, “Sean, the Dean spoke to you. Say “It’s nice to meet you, too.” Sean looked at me, clenched his lips together, folded his arms and shook his head “no.” I shook my head too and said, “Sorry, boss, he didn’t come with an instruction manual.”
<p>
The Dean laughed and said “No worries, I’m one of 7 and we all have grandkids. It’s just a phase.” Before I was ready to lecture him, my office colleague, Portia, walked up and saved the day. She said, “Cowabunga” as she stared at him. He stared back, unfolded his arms and said, “Cowabunga, Dude” as he gave her a high five. Befuddled, I looked at Portia as she explained to the Dean and me, “Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. I speak Kid.” Laughter followed.
<p>
And before I could ask who they were (remember a day before Google existed?), he listed all four of them for me, expecting that I would commit their names to memory. Yes, Sean, I still remember them. Leonardo, Donatello, Michelangelo, and Raphael--the Renaissance artists). The info came in handy 30 years later when I was in a discussion with my own adoptive grandson, age 6. I've had to learn a lot more superhero names these past years but one never relinquishes the joy of being taught by someone under the age of 12.
<p>
Another memory was taking Minor to a Texas Aggie baseball game, which I thought he’d love. He did. The tickets I’d been gifted found us seated next to my boss, Ken, who was a retired Air Force Colonel. He and Minor began discussing the game and I heard Ken ask him where he lived and what he did. He said, “I’m from St. Louis and I’m a Disabled American Veteran.” Ken, in a heavenly moment, knew exactly what to say, “God bless you, Son, and thank you for your service.” Minor smiled and they shook hands. I hid my tears that day.
<p>
Minor, the invincible, the hero, the cape-wearing strength of the family had no difficulty identifying with a medical condition that rendered him “disabled.” Life, illness, loss, sorrow, and grief had overtaken his fresh, sharp mind and he needed others to make the big decisions for him in life. He accepted the help and guidance of his younger brothers and sisters-in-law as graciously as one could expect.
<p>
For the past 30 years, Minor has lived geographically between the two brothers, in his own home, because crowded living communities didn’t give him a choice of when or if he could be alone, which was vital to his peace of mind at times. He was included in all the family activities and celebrations, and he also really enjoyed hosting high school friends and family at backyard BBQs. He'd call to tell me he'd cleaned his house thoroughly and Steve and Brenda had taken him grocery shopping to entertain and stocked the place with burgers, chips, sodas, and beer.
<p>
Those times made it possible for cousins to visit and stay close and he was good at mowing his own yard in the rural part of the city he lived in. Baseball season (the Cardinals) was always eagerly anticipated. Donald and Becky had him over to their home frequently and the brothers were happiest when all three of them were together. The devotion the three of them shared all of their lives is indescribable and it is a more powerful bond than any other I've seen to compare. They loved being with their older sister and family from Minor's first marriage when times presented the gatherings.
<p>
Six years ago, one of my precious “boys” who’d grown up across the street from me graduated from high school and enlisted in the Navy with a six-month wait before deployment. He was going out on his own to see the world and find his place in it. I wanted to give him a gift but what? Then it came to me. Minor had enlisted in the Navy, yes many years ago. I called Minor and asked him if he wouldn’t mind writing my neighbor about what it was like for him, one of three brothers in the house (also with an older sister) who broke away to find a path.
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He started writing the minute we hung up the phone and within three days I had a thick envelope with a magnificent handwritten note for my new sailor. He did a beautiful job of writing an honest, informative, and solid explanation of enlisted life. Minor was telling my young neighbor that, in essence, everything would be alright. But, of course. He’d been comforting all of us all of our lives. Minor was the strong one, the one everyone looked to for answers, even after you might think he didn’t have any left to give. He did.
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Every family faces difficulties and challenges. Most of them happen with no one writing about them because frankly, it’s a personal battle and everyone does the best they can. The only way I know how to process my personal grief is to write and to tell the story of a life well lived, and then I find peace. Yet, it’s hard for me to see this as the end of Minor’s life. Today is his birthday and he died two weeks shy of his 69th birthday.
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Yes, it's an ending. But, it’s really the beginning of his newly restored mind, body, and spirit. Today he’s reunited with his mother and father, and with his first son, Seth, that he’d waited so many years to see. He lived long enough to see his son, Sean, grown up with a son of his own, a fine young man whom any Dad could be proud of.
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What he has that is the greatest treasure was a lifetime of knowing his Dad, as best as anyone could, as a loving, caring, devoted father. Not every day could he say “yes” to everything Sean wanted, but when he said, “no,” he did what he knew to be in his best interests. Sean is not alone in this world. He has loving uncles, cousins, and “family” galore, but most of all, he has the best of his father in him. His heart is his best gift.
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Minor lived long enough to watch his son, Sean, grow up and find his way around love, and to have a son in his own life--a young lookalike named Dylan, whose presence in their lives assured the continuation of his father’s line, two generations past ours, joining the three other sons and daughters who are his cousins.
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My aunt was sweet enough to send pictures of the graveside military honors that were held for Minor:
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFrOGjGoZx-eWNAMTla0i4d01h1ay0ulaD2jtgaTwN837yEWKOn3PFi3r8Ct-wpingGOw7yz6iF8cB9xYECitk8By7EWtoLY6JwxJuJV6zuWAlTYUcg7iamfVEXpm5RZXC8Fm5DiyAEx8OoMW7R7hr3J2cLa7z6KilP5fN6EwYDmio1mW2tgiGn5QX4A/s4032/331230091_565632275624383_7683590691900968446_n.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; clear: left; float: left;"><img alt="" border="0" height="320" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFrOGjGoZx-eWNAMTla0i4d01h1ay0ulaD2jtgaTwN837yEWKOn3PFi3r8Ct-wpingGOw7yz6iF8cB9xYECitk8By7EWtoLY6JwxJuJV6zuWAlTYUcg7iamfVEXpm5RZXC8Fm5DiyAEx8OoMW7R7hr3J2cLa7z6KilP5fN6EwYDmio1mW2tgiGn5QX4A/s320/331230091_565632275624383_7683590691900968446_n.jpg"/></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsOKn-bG4wZZO7wTItgi5wY63e9TLrzhXMZt87t--5nLiEzsh95wA_8fwvnk3rcnspGWvJ5v21OWazlSw6HbIwGn83B0032OkpglNd3x8ULk2fGqmqhmz7eGs_ep4sYYcg041t1auoe8Z6cxEfTc8Yr7GXLO3FlttzHubVC6wMRWeRPnfu5eq0PrMIoA/s463/331221980_1598734533905726_2782741416434963543_n.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; clear: left; float: left;"><img alt="" border="0" height="320" data-original-height="463" data-original-width="415" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsOKn-bG4wZZO7wTItgi5wY63e9TLrzhXMZt87t--5nLiEzsh95wA_8fwvnk3rcnspGWvJ5v21OWazlSw6HbIwGn83B0032OkpglNd3x8ULk2fGqmqhmz7eGs_ep4sYYcg041t1auoe8Z6cxEfTc8Yr7GXLO3FlttzHubVC6wMRWeRPnfu5eq0PrMIoA/s320/331221980_1598734533905726_2782741416434963543_n.jpg"/></a></div>
Sean accepted the flag folded by representatives of the military with dignity and respect. All at once he understood what all those years ago what he couldn’t…the honor of serving your country without expectation of anything in return.
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFJKIdNxpF7YMIa5gndR8QHhphmZx-7dcuI48w1iz9Awm8JpP4rIZ4aDPpWi9pCKo8jMO8J2aCKjyb4D76cBJGEZeZBK_IEViUsl3_85KrojAa507zGelpWN8fcWbqwhBMBh82IozA0bcW4s2ILb-Gz3CQsqBLUpbDcwLPS5SffPGMtmggxwmzOB9pOw/s4032/331156669_580314403956883_5878646434212543875_n.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="320" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="4032" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFJKIdNxpF7YMIa5gndR8QHhphmZx-7dcuI48w1iz9Awm8JpP4rIZ4aDPpWi9pCKo8jMO8J2aCKjyb4D76cBJGEZeZBK_IEViUsl3_85KrojAa507zGelpWN8fcWbqwhBMBh82IozA0bcW4s2ILb-Gz3CQsqBLUpbDcwLPS5SffPGMtmggxwmzOB9pOw/s320/331156669_580314403956883_5878646434212543875_n.jpg"/></a></div>
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Another cousin gifted me with a picture of two generations of “the boys” on Minor’s immediate family’s side. Not all of them were together, of course, but there was a strong contingency.
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbYkHogKF1t_f_NpWaU5DQ7adtrdxAqPhUzc8ZrnRygC3JWo4sdInUGC7rd8WVHPSJ-Aqt5TXCZyvdwXYgdAshfgqq3giUtdf8XVqHdQ2UMMsJtND004zbgY4vZGICJc5oz0gDbrazp-9zlVSIitI7HeptVSF06L8eg7BKqISWAGS0gLTyCpvZzj3kZw/s851/Redbird.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="320" data-original-height="752" data-original-width="851" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbYkHogKF1t_f_NpWaU5DQ7adtrdxAqPhUzc8ZrnRygC3JWo4sdInUGC7rd8WVHPSJ-Aqt5TXCZyvdwXYgdAshfgqq3giUtdf8XVqHdQ2UMMsJtND004zbgY4vZGICJc5oz0gDbrazp-9zlVSIitI7HeptVSF06L8eg7BKqISWAGS0gLTyCpvZzj3kZw/s320/Redbird.jpg"/></a></div>
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Going forward, Sean will never feel a day in the future where he feels alone, because there will always be someone in his family nearby to him. He will work hard to preserve the family “ties” and he will remember that he is, and was, forever loved.
Dawn Lee Wakefieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04820422116291835694noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-116415734187328679.post-28622839591385306192023-02-09T11:49:00.009-08:002023-02-09T11:56:16.721-08:00Burt Bacharach Always Gave Us His Best<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc3nquT2t6QVfAIyuj37plt_xxmOHvlqWMrnbRuV-lb5TAA-KNjJYz_zre_zZ7t1Fr5biryQDmUyQ4igQpDfvn6lv9xHjCCFphtyHS19UwFPOFfDbiVb4teCv2PjcdUs6zDK7TMAlu-_enDAeDMrBi727UcwZGH-GL9cmm5Bb_UD7wOtwmYfFbyoAqLA/s480/dreamstime_xs_185498159.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; clear: left; float: left;"><img alt="" border="0" height="400" data-original-height="480" data-original-width="319" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc3nquT2t6QVfAIyuj37plt_xxmOHvlqWMrnbRuV-lb5TAA-KNjJYz_zre_zZ7t1Fr5biryQDmUyQ4igQpDfvn6lv9xHjCCFphtyHS19UwFPOFfDbiVb4teCv2PjcdUs6zDK7TMAlu-_enDAeDMrBi727UcwZGH-GL9cmm5Bb_UD7wOtwmYfFbyoAqLA/s400/dreamstime_xs_185498159.jpg"/></a></div>
If I asked you to “Name a Burt Bacharach Song,” there’s no doubt in my mind that you could come up with one immediately, whether you first learned of his work in the 1950s or three more decades beyond. News of his passing at the age of 94 just broke hours ago on the <a href="https://americansongwriter.com/burt-bacharach-famed-pop-composer-dead-at-94/" target="_blank">American Songwriter</a> blog.
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There’s no question that a Bacharach composition is going to be a theme of love—whether love won, love lost, searching for love, or giving up on love…Burt WAS love, or at least one of its best emissaries. What do you do when you can’t find the right words to put in a heartfelt wish on a blank card, or how do you tell someone that you’re going to recover from the hole in your heart that you’re feeling now? A Bacharach song is always a good idea. He had one for everyone.
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[Photo: Milan Italy 26/10/2008, live concert of Burt Bacharach at the Arcimboldi Theater. Used with permission]
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As he is best remembered, a YouTube creator was kind enough to compile a “Barbra Sings Burt Bacharach-Hal David Songbook,” so click and let it play and walk back in time to your childhood, all you Baby Boomers, and some of his best work is there.
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On this next YouTube, “What’s New Pussycat?” (Tom Jones) and Alfie (Cilla Black and Dionne Warwick),” as only Barbra Streisand can deliver them reminds you immediately of who they were the big hits for: “Close to You” (The Carpenters), “One Less Bell To Answer” (Fifth Dimension) and more.
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<iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/8SMyHutgew4" title="YouTube video player" frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen></iframe>
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Think of singer Dionne Warwick and you can immediately call to mind, “Walk on By,” “I Say a Little Prayer (for you),” “I’ll Never Fall in Love Again,” and “What Do You Get When You Fall in Love?” Then you’d also call to mind the name Hal David, Burt’s most prolific co-writer over the years. Together they were the dynamic duo.
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Beyond writing, though, you could always find that Burt could sing his own songs and compel your heart to heal as anyone who might have shared his work on their own record labels. But when others brought them to life, there’s no denying what the difference is between catchy tune and solid gold. Take for example, “Arthur’s Theme,” the theme song for the Dudley Moore movie, “Arthur.” Four writers are credited: Burt Bacharach, Carole Bayer Sager, Christopher Cross, and Peter Allen (not necessarily in that order).
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Yet, how do you share credit? Who writes what in that situation? As the story goes, it was Peter Allen who <a href="https://www.songfacts.com/facts/christopher-cross/arthurs-theme-best-that-you-can-do" target="_blank">came up</a> with “When you get caught between the moon and New York City” (he was on a plane "stuck in a holding pattern" at New York's JFK Airport). That phrase was the hitmaker because simply “made the song.” However the collaboration, it’s Christopher Cross’ voice and all the lyrics and the complete melody and arrangement that had people all singing about the moon, New York City, and “the best that you can do is fall in love.” And it certainly helped box office ticket sales to be sure.
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<iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/a6W3ZGaLd5M" title="YouTube video player" frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen></iframe>
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“On My Own” sounded “sweet” when Carole Bayer Sager and Burt Bacharach were sharing it, here, but according to <a href="https://www.songfacts.com/facts/patti-labelle-and-michael-mcdonald/on-my-own" target="_blank">Songfacts</a>, they’d promised it to Patti LaBelle, who loved the song. but when the rich sound of Michael McDonald came shining through, together with Dionne Warwick, it simply MADE the song. That’s what incredible songwriters can do…they are the “assist” to the slam dunk of a golden hit that the song stylist can take from memorable to unforgettable.
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<iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/2UyFcCSZG0A" title="YouTube video player" frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen></iframe>
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While Burt was married to Carole Bayer Sager for nine years, their compositions together were heartfelt gold. From that pairing one special gem was, “That’s What Friends Are For,” which brought the collaboration of Dionne Warwick, Gladys Knight, Stevie Wonder, and Sir Elton John.
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<iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/1pozp4MAnJc" title="YouTube video player" frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture; web-share" allowfullscreen></iframe>
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Burt said it all for so many when nothing less would do. His memory, and his music, live on forever, thank goodness, and thank you God, for Burt Bacharach.
Dawn Lee Wakefieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04820422116291835694noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-116415734187328679.post-87294637772403055382022-12-13T21:44:00.001-08:002022-12-13T21:44:51.564-08:00Memories of an Aggie Original–The Legendary Harry J. Green, Jr. '52 <div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWfnqbm-Ho0NlNblJvzoqt2jur_vicdRP6QQMb4__9l6xCplR0VMfbjdtj9umiXITXIpekvN2hVhVCEqChZtsesdGQqJOZ-B60O6vJasvZRgMm5v32VA4ZMliAc8RYQNGJcfvvAWLdly04VRPq4uu_ffeX6OQ0juPOBapaZAd162qSM0ZpkVOpTAjr5A/s2560/Harry-Green-scaled.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; clear: left; float: left;"><img alt="" border="0" height="200" data-original-height="2560" data-original-width="1813" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWfnqbm-Ho0NlNblJvzoqt2jur_vicdRP6QQMb4__9l6xCplR0VMfbjdtj9umiXITXIpekvN2hVhVCEqChZtsesdGQqJOZ-B60O6vJasvZRgMm5v32VA4ZMliAc8RYQNGJcfvvAWLdly04VRPq4uu_ffeX6OQ0juPOBapaZAd162qSM0ZpkVOpTAjr5A/s200/Harry-Green-scaled.jpg"/></a></div>On April 16, 1930, Harry Joyce Green, Jr. was born in San Antonio, Texas, to parents Cecilia M. and Harry J. Green, Sr. Harry grew up in Houston, Texas, and graduated from Stephen F. Austin High School in 1948.
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Proficient in track and field, Harry earned an athletic scholarship to Texas A&M College, where he was part of Company B. He lived in Hart Hall and ran track for A&M in the Southwest Conference. When the Korean War broke out in summer 1950, Harry left A&M and enlisted in the U.S. Navy, where he served for four years. Upon receiving his honorable discharge in March 1955, he returned to Texas A&M to complete his Bachelor of Science degree in Industrial Education in 1957.
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After graduation he returned to Houston and reconnected with old friends when he joined the Houston Aggie Club. Harry served as a Co-Class Agent for the Class of 1952 for many years.<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7zujgOVYF6MXu-enqiGhruzMOfeRQZ8fsVAyAib2-RvxAtUsl6Sjg6ziMcUz-OSKzcNmH2hrk9B6KtiaXX4Bo89Bz348e5PMupAXJFs0JivJKUwzI8jtazOIt26amTxEqR3GuZesvhWtmR_6AaZ6UJIqDw7TSogaMN4TpMM13rTmA_PF4ol6GDS1Ptg/s477/AggieRing.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="200" data-original-height="394" data-original-width="477" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7zujgOVYF6MXu-enqiGhruzMOfeRQZ8fsVAyAib2-RvxAtUsl6Sjg6ziMcUz-OSKzcNmH2hrk9B6KtiaXX4Bo89Bz348e5PMupAXJFs0JivJKUwzI8jtazOIt26amTxEqR3GuZesvhWtmR_6AaZ6UJIqDw7TSogaMN4TpMM13rTmA_PF4ol6GDS1Ptg/s200/AggieRing.jpg"/></a></div> His first job was with Browning Ferris, the waste management company, and his Aggie training found him moving up the company quickly as a safety engineer. Ultimately he struck out on his own and bought a Honda motorcycle dealership. <p>
Because of his visibility in Houston, Harry was the perfect candidate to be chosen by Buck Weirus as the first Field Director for the Association of Former Students, whose growth potential would require greater statewide participation among fellow alumni. Equipped with a company car and persuasive speaking skills, Harry Green quickly became the one Aggie who basically knew every other Aggie in the state.
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When he spoke, Harry commanded attention as he enthusiastically shared exciting news and updates on how great Texas A&M University was becoming, as it entered a new era where nonmilitary students and women entered the Aggie family. “Joining the Aggie Club and supporting A&M through endowed scholarships was one of the best ways to help our school,” he said, as he traveled up and down the highways and back roads of Texas every day.”
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Meanwhile back at the office, one of the Aggie Club employees that Harry would be able to count on was a lovely woman named Nelda. She and Harry were kindred spirits who were meant to find one another. Working together daily, their mutual respect and indefatigable work ethics as both were devoted to Texas A&M eventually developed into devotion towards each other as best friends. Nelda once shared that they were having dinner one evening, when the subject got around to marriage. Posed with Harry’s question, “What are your thoughts on marriage?” Nelda replied, “I think people should marry their best friends,” to which Harry, without missing a beat said, “I fully agree, will you marry me?” Her answer of course was “Yes,” and the two were married in 1980.
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Anywhere in town there was an Aggie function, you never saw one without the other. They rarely addressed each other by name. It was always Harry saying, “Dearest, are you ready to go?” and she’d said, “Yes, love.” Always. Whenever she was speaking of Harry to another, she would talk about “Harry J” in a soft, caring tone that revealed her devotion to her “knight in shining armor.” Most often when he spoke of her to others, he referred to her as "<a href="https://www.facebook.com/search/top?q=nelda%20bride%20callaway-jones" target="_blank">my bride</a>." They were blessed with 37 years of joy until Nelda’s passing in October 2017.
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They traveled the road together those decades, as Aggie clubs vied for Harry to be “their” Muster speaker each year, and the asks for “next year” went out just as soon as the current year’s Muster concluded. His ability to show people what a difference they could make in the permanently endowed athletic scholarship program was his gift. His name is synonymous with the moniker the Aggie Club, as he became its Executive Director in 1979. The organization had modest beginnings from its start in 1950. A 2012 interview in the 12th Man Magazine noted that in 1975 there were approximately 1200 members with revenues about $275,000. By the time Harry retired in 1992, the newly renamed 12th Man Foundation had 6,500 members and millions in revenues.
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Harry preferred modesty, forever boosting his classmates and fellow Aggies for accolades rather than accepting credit, but he should be remembered as the one who broke fundraising records for Texas A&M athletics, for his graceful behind-the-scenes introduction of future friends of a lifetime to each other, for encouraging young men to become their best selves, and to remember forever that Aggies always help Aggies whenever they can. He had equal, welcome access to CEOs and Aggie retirees who were working as security guards in chemical plants. He knew the name of every ticket taker and custodian in all of the athletic facilities on campus and was greeted warmly by all. Everyone loved Harry.
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One of the most beloved “newer” traditions at Aggie football games is the 12th Man towel. In 1985, two leaders in the 12th Man Student Aggie Club went to Harry as Executive Director of the 12th Man Foundation and Jackie Sherrill, then TAMU Athletic Director and head football coach, who gave their approval and the towel debuted in the first home game of the 1985 season. By the time TAMU beat UT in the final home game, Kyle Field was ensconced in a sea of white. It took the approval of Ol’ Army to help make possible a beloved new tradition.
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Harry’s devotion to his Aggies never waned. Even though the past 12 months were filled with health challenges, Harry’s extended family made sure he attended every home game in the 2021 season and even one home game this year, which meant the world to him.
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Not one to take retirement seriously, Harry accepted his friend Don Adam’s offer to serve as his Executive Vice President and Director of Marketing for First American Bank of Bryan, which grew quickly in the institution’s market share, thanks to Harry’s unparalleled enthusiasm and marketing talents. Everyone loved Harry.<p>
Harry was a 32nd degree Mason and very active in fundraising, first in Houston and then locally. He was dedicated to the mission of the Shriners International Children’s Hospital in Houston for many years before its relocation to Galveston.
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggD1dXH1g21uktDjBykMkEOcRIkIRrvtM-Ta0mIjxXzVA-Xys3esW2aApFcG1DV8bTWgHnSqRHIREHg8fHw878246CFhk9E924aix7kYIA5o3ieboSAjsiFIGGg7XlZRTE4_U1dfBKcnd9ikkIiLeNJw-hPhGNwigmT4P2UOQ1uJNdAJbs4l4lQNPQig/s482/Lions%20Logo.jpg" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; clear: left; float: left;"><img alt="" border="0" height="200" data-original-height="482" data-original-width="447" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggD1dXH1g21uktDjBykMkEOcRIkIRrvtM-Ta0mIjxXzVA-Xys3esW2aApFcG1DV8bTWgHnSqRHIREHg8fHw878246CFhk9E924aix7kYIA5o3ieboSAjsiFIGGg7XlZRTE4_U1dfBKcnd9ikkIiLeNJw-hPhGNwigmT4P2UOQ1uJNdAJbs4l4lQNPQig/s200/Lions%20Logo.jpg"/></a></div> He was a vital part of the College Station Noon Lions Club locally.Asked one day how it was he was so successful in the Lions’ trademark project, selling light bulbs to friends and coworkers, Harry explained his pitch. “Well, I took all the light bulb boxes they gave me to sell into the bank one evening after work and I had attached a little note to each coworker that read, ‘Thank you for your support of the College Station Noon Lions Club annual light bulb fundraiser. The amount due is $X and you can bring a check or cash to me by the end of this week at your convenience.” When his coworkers finished laughing, they all put their checks in envelopes on Harry’s desk by week’s end.
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In the community, Harry and Nelda supported the American Heart Association, and they served the American Cancer Society's Cattle Baron's Ball for several years, even serving as co-chairs for the Ball one year. [Photo below: Alice and Dick Hickerson and Nelda and Harry Green].
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Together, Harry and Nelda were members of the Texas A&M Association of Former Students Endowed Century Club for their philanthropy through the years. Harry continued his service to A&M as a past-president (2012–2013) of the Sul Ross Group of Aggies, who celebrate the passing of at least 55 years since graduation with an annual reunion in College Station.
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As the six core values of Texas A&M are identified present day as respect, excellence, loyalty, leadership, integrity, and selfless service (RELLIS), the <a href="https://www.aggienetwork.com/news/146714/the-core-values-coin/" target="_blank">Core Values Coin</a> was introduced in 2013 by the Association of Former Students “to recognize Aggies who live and reflect the core values of Texas A&M.” Since their inception, only 148 coins have been presented. In the program’s second year, Harry was one of six past presidents of the Sul Ross Group to receive a Core Values Coin. Fifteen of the 148 coins were placed on the graves of Aggies killed in World War II and buried at the Normandy American Cemetery in France.
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In the community, Harry and Nelda were faithful members of First Presbyterian Church in Bryan, and always signed up to be greeters for a month each year, an activity they took seriously. Each week they recognized newcomers and welcomed returning visitors and introduced them to other longtime members there, which resulted in many new church members joining because they felt at home. To be recognized, remembered, and regarded—that was the “Harry J.” way.
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New athletics coaches, of any sport, were sure to meet Harry and Nelda during their first week here, as they would take them to dinner and learn what was important to new families and coaches relocating to BCS. They made it a point to connect them with others of matching interests to make their assimilation easier. They never sought credit or acknowledgment for what they did. It was simply who they were, two Aggie angels with hearts of gold.
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Visitation for Harry will be from 11am–1pm at <a href="www.callawayjones.com" target="_blank">Callaway-Jones Funeral Center</a> in Bryan on Thursday, December 15. A guestbook is available Tuesday for those wishing to sign early. Following a private burial ceremony, a memorial service will be held on Friday, December 16, at <a href="https://fpcbryan.org/" target="_blank">First Presbyterian Church in Bryan</a>, with the Rev. Ted Foote presiding.
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Harry was preceded in death by his parents, his sister, Dorothy Green Lovelace, and his beloved wife, Nelda. He is survived by niece Margaret Lovelace Brooks and husband Karl, and their sons, Tom Booker and Mike Booker. <p>
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Harry is also survived by Nelda’s loving family, nephews, Tracey Smith and Travis Smith, great-niece Chelsea Jones and husband Cody, and their son Rowen Michael Jones; and great-nephews Austin Smith and Wyatt Smith, as well as a host of Aggies to whom Harry and Nelda were indeed considered “extended family.” [Photo: Cody and Chelsea Jones, Nelda and Harry Green].
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From that extended family, serving as pallbearers are Jim Peterson, Bill Carter, Steve Stevens, Arno Krebs, Arnold Hayes, Kyle Lednicky, Tom Kennerly, and Kent Caperton. Honorary pallbearers are Don Adam, John Sharp, Kyle Lewie, Bookman Peters, Dick Hickerson, James Connor Smith, Dick Witherite, Otway Denny, Ron Lueck, Bill Housman, Karl Brooks, Tim Booker, Mike Booker, and all Past-Presidents of the 12th Man Foundation.
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In lieu of flowers, gifts may be made to the <a href="https://www.txamfoundation.com/" target="_blank">Texas A&M Foundation</a>, <a href="https://www.12thmanfoundation.com/" target="_blank">12th Man Foundation</a>, or the charity of choice.
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Today, Harry and his Nelda are reunited in Heaven, and undoubtedly there are legions of Aggies standing in long lines to welcome him home. The strains of “The Spirit of Aggieland” should be wafting through the clouds. This coming April 21st, for Muster 2023, when the name of Harry Joyce Green, Jr. ’52 is announced, the response “HERE” is sure to reverberate throughout Reed Arena. And so it is that Harry J. Green, Jr. ’52 is home at last.
Dawn Lee Wakefieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04820422116291835694noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-116415734187328679.post-51761393597659433452022-08-25T15:43:00.004-07:002022-08-25T15:43:47.826-07:0020 Years Later Mary Lynne Stratta Still Bryan's Best"It was 20 years ago today Sgt. Pepper taught the band to play..." and it was also 20 years ago today that Mary Lynne Stratta was Bubba Moore's cover girl for his TV Facts magazine. The weekly publication was co-owned by Mike Newton at the time and while Bubba was valiantly battling health challenges. He allowed me, his cub reporter, to write about whatever struck a chord with our community that week. So, the occasion of our very own Bryan City Secretary Mary Lynn Stratta and her fantastic, unparalleled team brought Texas honor to Bryan.
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This photo with former city manager Mary Kaye Moore and former Bryan Mayor Jay Don Watson was taken during the City Council meeting at which Stratta was recognized for her then current achievement.
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The reason for this month's cover girl was Mary Lynne's being named 2002 Secretary of the Year by the Capitol Chapter of the Texas Municipal Clerks Association. That particular award was the fourth time she'd won it in a decade. Anyone who has worked with her knows of her attention to detail, ability to organize projects for 50 to 500, and most of all, we the public receive VIP status as she always makes time for citizens who come into the office in need of records and documents. It's a large operation to be sure, and if you've just checked out the lines of traffic backed up all around Bryan and College Station, it's clear we're no longer a small little Texas based college town and a sleepy, gentle community just five miles down the road.
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Decades ago when I moved here, Bryan was generally always perceived, by those entering College Station, as a quiet, residential community where professors lived. Not so today. Bryan is bigtime now. We have the amazing Travis Bryan Park and the new Big Shots Golf and Entertainment Center, complete with live music each week. Downtown Bryan and First Fridays have taken on fresh, enhanced bold identities and flourished over the past five years, all with the enthusiastic support of an always contemporary city staff. The Brazos Valley continues to grow and grow as both towns offer growth and excitement to offer residents.
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Although many elected officials come in for fixed periods of time, make their contributions and/or imprints on the cities they were elected to lead, and then move on, look to your longterm city and county and Brazos Valley staff and say thank you, for always being there.
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Happy Throwback Thursday! And think of Bubba today, and smile. He was a one-of-a-kind friend to our community, to be sure!
Dawn Lee Wakefieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04820422116291835694noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-116415734187328679.post-64994620254898132712022-07-26T10:50:00.004-07:002023-02-09T16:13:15.067-08:00Tony Dow, America’s Favorite Big Brother, Leaves Home at Age 77
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It was stunning news that <a href="https://www.facebook.com/phlashphelps%22%20target=%22_blank%22%3E%3C/a%3E%20just%20shared%20on%20his%20radio%20show%20this%20morning%20before%20his%20shift%20ended—actor,%20sculptor,%20cr" target="_blank">Phlash Phelps</a> just shared on his radio show this morning before his shift ended—actor, sculptor, creative Tony Dow died today at the age of 77, in Hollywood. Yet another loss in our lives to process for one we knew well, even if we’d never met.
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In the late 1950s and early 60s, it seemed that any Baby Boomer grew up with and knew the story of the Cleavers, the perfect family in the mythical town of Mayfield. Father Ward, Mother June, sons Wally and Theodore (the Beav) came into our homes each week and taught us something important about family dynamics with each script.
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Although just characters created by Joe Connelly, Bob Mosher, and Dick Conway, writers you never saw or met, the Cleaver family represented the best of what normal family life could be with father, mother, two-story home, white picket fence, occasional dog, buddies from school, and various folks in town who had lessons to impart to the young ones, consistently, within 234 scripts.[Photo: IMDB]
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Of all their characters though, Tony Dow brought some special to brother Wally that showed firsthand what kindness to a little brother can bring. It wasn’t always offered at first thought or without a tad of resentment at times (little brothers can be pests), but Wally’s perfect hair and blue eyes as he aged from 12 to 17 during the show’s run kept young girls watching, if only it was to see him comb his hair, which he did each episode. [Photo: Trakt.TV]
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It's safe to say that this show might have caused permanent typecasting for all four actors, but Tony worked steadily in television series from 1963, when “Beaver” ended, all the way through 2016. He had roles on “Diagnosis Murder,” “Murder She Wrote,” “The New Mike Hammer,” “Dr. Kildare,” “Mod Squad,” “Knight Rider,” “The Hardy Boys,” and everyone’s favorite, “The Love Boat.” He also reprised his role as Wally in several “Leave it to Beaver” TV movies and series.
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Forever, though, the ensemble would be the Cleavers to us. Tony, went on to have a normal teen life and graduated from Van Nuys High School, and then went on to study at the Defense Information School, in the U.S. Department of Defense. Many journalists and professional communicators as well as popular DJs and news anchors attended this school as well.
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As a talented sculptor and artist, his work garnered much attention and interest. His work is currently featured at the Bilotta Gallery and consists of bronze sculptures that average $4,000 each. An example is his 22-inch “Hand balancer.”
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His passing was not entirely unanticipated. In May this year, he and his wife, Lauren Shulkind posted a message on his Facebook <a href="https://www.facebook.com/TonyDowActorDirector" target="_blank">page</a>:
<blockquote>“<i>Dear Friends & Fans of Tony Dow, I have some very sad news to share with you. Unfortunately, Tony has once again been diagnosed with cancer. He is approaching this reality so bravely, but it is truly heartbreaking.</i>”</blockquote>
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NBC affiliate <a href="https://www.wlbt.com/2022/05/06/it-is-heartbreaking-tony-dow-leave-it-beaver-actor-announces-cancer-diagnosis/" target="_blank">WLBT</a> noted, as of that afternoon, his Facebook post marked over 14,000 comments and 2,000+ shares.
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Even if anticipated, today is important because we all lost a family member. Whether or not you agree, he was a permanent part of Americana, of a generation of teens and young adults who would be on the edge of technology, and who would face new challenges brought about by decisions made by those in charge, and would have to respond accordingly. [Photo: Pinterest]
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One thing is for sure. While June was forever saying, “Ward, I’m worried about the Beaver,” no one ever had to say they were worried for Wally. He always knew what to do. Godspeed, Tony, and thanks for being a very happy part of our childhood.
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It's poignant that two of America's favorite towns are not real, created by talented writers who inspired generations of children growing up across the country. For Wally and the Beav, it was Mayfield. For Andy, Barney, and the gang, it was Mayberry. Right about now this generation could use another bring-us-all-together sitcom, without wisecracks, double entendres, disrespect, or dumbed-down intelligence. A new town "may" need to come soon.
Dawn Lee Wakefieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04820422116291835694noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-116415734187328679.post-87378548662612396612022-07-25T06:12:00.081-07:002022-07-25T07:14:52.554-07:00Joni Mitchell Surprises Newport Jazz Festival Audience and Everyone Else Who Loves Her MusicWelcome news appeared in <i>Rolling Stone</i> yesterday as Johnathan Bernstein's <a href="https://www.rollingstone.com/music/music-news/joni-mitchell-newport-surprise-performance-1387472/" target="_blank">story</a> that Joni Mitchell had returned to the stage just seven short years after experiencing an aneurysm that left her unable to speak or walk. On July 24, while most everyone was enjoying a lazy Sunday afternoon somewhere, history was made at the 2022 Newport Jazz Festival. Billed only as the Coyote Jam with Brandi Carlisle as lead, the surprise of the day eclipsed the preceding day's appearance by Paul Simon.<p>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDhdvOmAL9t9Z8kyv_y6Q0vTWU9BtLdJeVrd7reY5u3xh-U8ah7g1psd9OxRLqJR2sIUOwaWTqhNVLeM8GLc6EpJJzVoApgMGjg8i5JQWW9J6hxlhEZoaTN9RCuEa6UtPURsxpwBc93ZJEnOMtIbrU6d6T_S_C473IxWnTrCOdISc3fJyMFBx2Piwuhg/s1200/2022-Newport-Folk-Festival-Day-3-7-24-22-30.webp" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; clear: left; float: left;"><img alt="" border="0" width="400" data-original-height="800" data-original-width="1200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDhdvOmAL9t9Z8kyv_y6Q0vTWU9BtLdJeVrd7reY5u3xh-U8ah7g1psd9OxRLqJR2sIUOwaWTqhNVLeM8GLc6EpJJzVoApgMGjg8i5JQWW9J6hxlhEZoaTN9RCuEa6UtPURsxpwBc93ZJEnOMtIbrU6d6T_S_C473IxWnTrCOdISc3fJyMFBx2Piwuhg/s400/2022-Newport-Folk-Festival-Day-3-7-24-22-30.webp"/></a></div>Rick Farrell's photo in <a href="https://whatsupnewp.com/2022/07/2022-newport-folk-festival-day-3-joni-mitchell-appears-for-historic-set/" target="_blank"><i>What's Up Newport</i></a> captured Mitchell looking as comfortable there as she has been in her own home in recent years, as guests have dropped by for informal Joni Jams. <p>
For the first time in 20 years, since her self-imposed <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/music/2022/jul/25/joni-mitchell-gives-first-full-live-performance-since-2002#:~:text=Mitchell%27s%20last%20full%20live%20show,Guthrie%20and%20the%20Everly%20Brothers." target="_blank">retirement</a> from live performance, she held court atop a makeshift throne as those around joined her in tribute to her genius. In fact, her own website <a href="www.jonimitchell.com" target="_blank">site</a> noted: "The last time Joni performed with guitar in hand in front of a paying audience was 8,660 days ago, on her 55th birthday."
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Onstage with Mitchell, sitting in an exquisite chair, sat numerous well-known musicians from Brandi Carlisle to Wynona, some of whom consider themselves Joni's Number 1 Fan. Yet, that position is held by no one person. It is not possible, because music lovers from the late 1960s forward have embraced the willowy, fierce singer-songwriter as "theirs" for likely that title belongs only to one person, David Crosby, who really is primarily responsible for making sure the rest of us knew of her gifts and helped her career ascend into the stratosphere from a nice start (and life with Graham Nash as well).
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Yet, did you ever think that 20 years later, she'd be standing in front of a live audience performing a jaw-dropping instrumental on "Just Like This Train"? Check out the YouTube posted by Dale Martin:
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The audience sat spellbound as they watched Joni rise from the comfortable chair on a stage that recreated the home setting where Mitchell has been hosting gatherings of LA area faithful for a long while. These informal yet limited audience gatherings have included select friends, old and new, who'd come by to sing her songs back to her. Clearly, Joni has made phenomenal progress since suffering a brain aneurysm in March 2015. The event left her unable to speak or <a href="https://www.bbc.com/news/entertainment-arts-54703915" target="_blank">walk</a
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Yet, having recovered her speech, at age 76, she told a reporter for <i>The Guardian</i> her intentions, after she'd beaten childhood polio (as noted from in the BBC <a href="https://www.bbc.com/news/entertainment-arts-54703915" target="_blank">story</a>):
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"And, you know, I got my speech back quickly, but the walking I'm still struggling with. But I mean, I'm a fighter. I've got Irish blood! So you know, I knew, 'Here I go again, another battle.'" Two years later, Joni brought singer Wynonna Judd to the point of "no words" as she asked Brandi Carlisle, "When we are 78..." as if can we still be like she is? Granted, many of the performers there were starstruck as much as moved by the quiet confidence of Joni's humor that filled some of the stories she told, one of which was how she came to love "Why Do Fools Fall in Love" as a teenager. Yet, few teenagers get to take their favorite artists with them on the road, but then again there's only one Joni.
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Quite possibly, Joni Mitchell means more, perhaps, to singer-songwriters themselves than to any other group of individuals who can rightfully claim one musician as "theirs." Joni's willingness to break rules, barriers, cadence, and logic with each album that she released represented "This is How It's Done When You're Not Afraid to Do It" as opposed to "This is the Way We've Always Done It" in song styling.
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Thanks to JoniMitchell.com we have the <a href="www.jonimitchell.com" target="_blank">set list</a> from the concert, and videos courtesy of YouTubers Amy Karibian and Dale Martin. Brandi Carlisle is the musical director, vocal coordinator, conductor, and The Guardian's <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/music/2022/jul/25/joni-mitchell-gives-first-full-live-performance-since-2002#:~:text=Mitchell%27s%20last%20full%20live%20show,Guthrie%20and%20the%20Everly%20Brothers." target="_blank">Laura Snapes</a> had the band lineup for us: Marcus Mumford, Wynonna Judd, Blake Mills, Jess Wolfe and Holly Laessig of the band Lucius, and Mitchell’s bandmates Phil and Tim Hanseroth and Celisse Henderson.
Carey [2]<p>
Come in From The Cold (Dale Martin video) features Taylor Goldsmith (of Dawes) said lead and Joni sang harmony<p> Taylor's dad, Lenny, was an original <a href="https://malibutimes.com/article_8e69d982-e6a3-11e3-a5ee-0019bb2963f4" target="_blank">member</a> of 60s band the Five Americans and eventual lead singer for the Tower of Power.
<iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/_AIZsCZeYAA" title="YouTube video player" frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen></iframe><p>
Help Me (Dale Martin video)<p>
<iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/VQBA4eWfaic" title="YouTube video player" frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen></iframe><p>
A Case of You<p>
<iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/lDzybU85ZXc" title="YouTube video player" frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen></iframe><p>
Big Yellow Taxi<p>
<iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/N9LTHAJp49I" title="YouTube video player" frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen></iframe>
<p>
Just Like This Train (Joni on Parker Fly!)<p>
Why Do Fools Fall in Love<p>
<iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/oZRvx4gz7oQ" title="YouTube video player" frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen></iframe><p>
Amelia
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<iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/3WLiUSI_nzw" title="YouTube video player" frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen></iframe><p>
Love Potion #9<p>
<iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/KlwtZEgQAM0" title="YouTube video player" frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen></iframe><p>
Shine<p>
<iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/5IUmoaN7I7M" title="YouTube video player" frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen></iframe><p>
Summertime<p>
<iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/CwN0dtTYcvs" title="YouTube video player" frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen></iframe><p>
Both Sides Now<p>
<iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/4aqGjaFDTxQ" title="YouTube video player" frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen></iframe><p>
and
The Circle Game<p>
<iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/b5OIlK1g3yA" title="YouTube video player" frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen></iframe>
<p>
In the years since her aneurysm, musicians have shared their regard and devotion for Joni and her music in performance, stories, and composition. Some are in her living room; others express it on their own stages. The impact of Mitchell's music is found in individual singers' tributes to her work around the world, from Australia to the UK to New England and Los Angeles.
<p>
As just a few examples, for the past seven years, singer-songwriter Kiki Ebsen's group, the Joni Mitchell Project, has performed a decade's worth of Mitchell's work that spans nine albums after noting that Joni's absence from performing had left a substantial musical void for two decades. Together with guitarists Grant Geissman, Terry Wollman, drummer Bernie Dresel, and Steve Lawrence on bass, and occasional guest artists, they interpret Mitchell's work with flair and authenticity by crowds who continue to appreciate annual appearances at the Laguna Festival of the Arts and upcoming Muckenthaler Cultural Arts Center date.
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<iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/-W4ISPapcnE" title="YouTube video player" frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen></iframe>
<p>
Multiple Grammy winner Christopher Cross could not sit quietly by as one of his heroes had suffered her aneurysm. In 2016 he released his tribute to her, "Roberta". He <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FfGb8WkXjRY" target="_blank">noted</a>: "'Roberta' is the first [song] I have completed [on my new album], which is very much influenced by her later work 'Hejira' and beyond."
<iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/FfGb8WkXjRY" title="YouTube video player" frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen></iframe>
<p>
It is poignant to think that a commitment made by Joni's then manager David Geffen to appear on the Dick Cavett Show kept her from attending Woodstock, but in 1969 she wrote one of the most iconic songs that has long been considered the identity of the festival. Fitting then, that hours after the night ended and the sun came up, with great thanks to the journalists and videographers who captured time in a bottle for us one more time, we can enjoy the memories of a concert we never attended, but heard about, to perhaps be the impetus that inspired us to go forward and be creative. Thanks, one more time, to Joni for the music. Long may she rock.Dawn Lee Wakefieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04820422116291835694noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-116415734187328679.post-58611446539481005912022-06-15T23:37:00.012-07:002022-06-16T07:11:26.227-07:00The Fervent Faith of First-Time Author Mary Lee Crocker Parnell<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZc1h10J3UzaWm6VbiAPzbSHWMu4Hbt90eXrH-XCA7KIIzQPx6IuropYTSl3zBfs299ln6YtI-EqrOZIjyVCd2BaM55O7aWb7QkLvnHNjjVsjW5JJAhp7s7atbTkz1DqH7iCKuEmdmApUJM_i2GpP3ROm7LcPWdz0aY55WIDX_P7DfO_VRnEowYCtuwg/s894/IMG_4791%20%282%29.JPG" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; clear: left; float: left;"><img alt="" border="0" width="320" data-original-height="806" data-original-width="894" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZc1h10J3UzaWm6VbiAPzbSHWMu4Hbt90eXrH-XCA7KIIzQPx6IuropYTSl3zBfs299ln6YtI-EqrOZIjyVCd2BaM55O7aWb7QkLvnHNjjVsjW5JJAhp7s7atbTkz1DqH7iCKuEmdmApUJM_i2GpP3ROm7LcPWdz0aY55WIDX_P7DfO_VRnEowYCtuwg/s320/IMG_4791%20%282%29.JPG"/></a></div>
When you were young, you might have heard from your elders that if you want something enough, and if you pray about it, and ask for it to come true, that indeed your most closely held dreams can come true. Just ask 86-year-old Mary Lee Crocker Parnell of North Zulch; it may take a while, but if you have faith, anything is possible with God’s help.
<p>
Proof of fact is in the stories of many exceptional individuals and high achievers whose highest accomplishment at age 40 or 50 began as a childhood dream that they never gave up on. Astronauts, doctors, car inventors, and rocket scientists all began as children who asked “Why not me?” and "Why not?"
<p>
On Sunday, June 12th, over 50 people gathered in the Crocker Fellowship Hall of Sand Prairie Baptist Church in North Zulch, where Mary Lee was feted as a beloved church member and first-time author. You see, she didn’t write her first poem until she was 50 years old. It was a delightful message about Valentine’s Day.
<p>
In the past 36 years she’s been prolific and faithful in composing poems in honor of her faith, her family, and her coworkers throughout her life. It’s a feel-good book today, titled<i> Down Through the Years in Poetry</i>, published by Martin Powers Publishing in Bryan. The volume contains 75 poems grouped by topic and almost each one is based upon a Bible verse, noted, as well as the inspiration for the message.
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Make no mistake. They’re not four-line verses of basic rhyme; they’re complex sentences, brilliantly composed, each one giving the reader a message of hope and a reason to believe, particularly on days when you need a lift.
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Mary Lee currently resides in Bryan in a nursing community where she is making strong progress having survived a hefty battle with pneumonia. A church member drove her over from Bryan for an approved few hours away.
<p>
She was dressed in an exquisite blue maxidress, with an elegant silk floral print scarf. Her silver hair framed her lovely face that featured no wrinkles and shining brown eyes. Her shined but worn-in cowboy boots completed her ensemble.
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As you might expect, there’s a story behind how this day came to be, one that includes the fastest turnaround time ever for a book to go from beginning manuscript to final product in hand—just one month.
<p>
In the Bible, several Old Testament chapters are considered poems on their own: Psalms, Job, Proverbs, Ecclesiastes, Song of Solomon (aka Song of Songs), and Lamentations.
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The poems that Mary Lee writes are conversational, thoughtful compound sentences, and each tells a story important in, or to, her life. There are poems of faith in God, messages of thanks and hope for her friends and family, appreciation for good friends and coworkers in her career, holiday wishes, and superb birthday cards that defy anything that Hallmark or Carlton Cards could ever dream of publishing.
<p>
There were 75 poems in all, typed and xeroxed into a slightly aging cardstock cover coil-bound binder. There was the characteristic font of an ancient IBM Selectric typewriter and it meant that each would require retyping. Only a few cursory edits were required, and a tad of punctuation here and there. As it would turn out, they would find their own order into subject matter grouping as one-by-one, they were retyped.
<p>
In order for this dream to come true, that Mary Lee would one day hold her book of poems in her hands, the perfect pathway had to be paved, and once again powered by prayer and in God’s perfect time, things just sort of “came together” in her behalf.
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Entirely unbeknownst to her, a dear lady who had met her and joined her in her pew at Sand Prairie Baptist Church in North Zulch had found herself enthralled at the positive spirit and vivaciousness of this precious octogenarian. One of Ms. Mary Lee’s favorite sayings was “Oh, my goodnesssss!” Her phrasing in a lilting voice made a simple phrase as distinct as a verse of music. It was her trademark, or one of them.
<p>
Her pewmate, Marcia, had it put on her heart to make Ms. Mary Lee’s dreams come true. She contacted her daughter Maia, an author and songwriter, about how best to go about it. Maia researched and found Ann, a skilled editor in Bryan, and she sent a blind e-mail. As it turned out, Ann was booked but suggested she’d check with a former Aggie classmate, Dawn Lee, to see if she was available and interested.
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<p>
The e-mail Ann sent sounded so intriguing…a first-time author, aged 86, who had a dream of a published book of her poems. That was all it took. After a quick e-mail exchange, Maia suggested calling Marcia, her Mom, who had all the information. The next day, the phone call came, details were exchanged, and that afternoon, Marcia and I met at Tia Juanita's to review the poems and determine logistically when the project could be done and what it might cost.
On May 1, it was decided that it needed to be available in about 4 weeks’ time because if it were to be introduced to the public, it would have to be before everyone scattered to the four winds for family reunions and long-awaited vacations that would occupy much of the next 12 weeks.
<p>
The plan was agreed upon and toasted with iced tea over chips and avocado dip. Our mutual plan also began a wonderful new friendship that will endure for years to come. There’s no way, by the way, that this path or timeframe is anywhere near normal, standard, or even possible, unless you are only doing one thing for 30 days. My life and my schedule are anything but predictable, by my own design and wish.
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And yet everything fell into place perfectly. Why? I’d like to say it’s because Marcia reminded me constantly to begin each day with a prayer for God to “order my steps” according to His will. Ordinarly, I’m not very chatty about my personal faith with most people outside those who specifically ask me.
Yet, I have to step out on a limb here and say that even though I’ve been a person “of faith” all of my life, there are times (most of them) when I tend to forge ahead on my accord, often forgetting to ask for inspiration or blessing and occasionally taking it for granted when it comes (anyway).
<p>
Marcia’s example and her gentle words were one kind of a necessary wake-up call to me, though, because things in my life were not going according to plan. Too many obstacles in a smooth path for my liking. Suddenly, the tide turned, and I found myself exhilarated by the one vision of what Ms. Mary Lee’s face would look like when she had her book in her hands at last.
<p>
One fine day we gathered at a local restaurant and Ms. Mary Lee’s niece, Joyce, joined us as the third Musketeer. These two girls were the project sponsors and the goal was simply to break even and gift people with an exciting collection of inspirational poems.
<p>
We discussed possibilities for getting the word out about the book when it was finished and how it was we would present the book to her. Phone calls, e-mails, text messages and lots of laughter over iced tea ensued for the next 3 weeks. And there sat Ms. Mary Lee entirely unaware of what was about to happen, getting stronger with PT after pneumonia.
<p>
After my BookBaby.com printing representative pulled rabbit after rabbit out of a hat, production-wise, I imposed on graphic designer Amber’s weekend for a cover and gave her a basic description of “a compilation of Christian poems of faith, hope, and love, from a dear lady who loved nature and nature in the countryside.” She offered—"I’m seeing a field of poppies” and I knew that was inspired. Marcia requested Texas bluebonnets and boom, there they were. Formatting wizard Rhonda worked on a weekend (she never works weekends) for our goal and Marcia proofed what I'd typed and assembled: the book. Joyce planned and coordinated a special day at Sand Prairie Baptist to celebrate Ms. Mary Lee and her book, recruited her delighted sister, Judy, and other wonderful ladies of the church to contribute their special talents. There was about to be much to celebrate and give thanks for.
<p>
On Tuesday, June 7, Joyce and Marcia drove over to Bryan and we had lunch to celebrate the arrival of the books, in plenty of time before Ms. Mary Lee's special Sunday, June 12th. After lunch we traveled to the nursing rehab facility where Ms. Mary Lee was looking forward to a "surprise." The photos that follow speak better than words.
<p>
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<p>
You see, Mary Lee didn’t write her first poem until she was 50 years old. Today she works to overcome severe macular degeneration in both eyes that require a special reader to even see the largest print. You’d never know it was a struggle to look at her or to hear her voice. She’s grateful for everything in her life.
<p>
Ms. Mary Lee didn’t really need a device to read her book though; she’s memorized her poems and knows them by heart. All of them. All 75. She has delighted her fellow residents at her rehab facility in Bryan by reciting several poems for them. She revealed, “God spoke to me and gave me each of these poems and then told me to commit them to memory because there could come a day when I could not read them, or my Bible, easily.”
<p>
Most all poems have an accompanying verse of scripture, indicative of the inspiration for the message. Each one is a gift to people in her family as well as those who’ve never met her.
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<p>
On Sunday, June 12, over 50 people gathered at the Crocker Fellowship Hall at Sand Prairie Baptist for Ms. Mary Lee’s book signing. As I was invited to address the group and tell the story of how the book came to be, Ms. Mary Lee came up and stood beside me to be able to hear me clearly. As we stood there, arm in arm, I felt the most warm and peaceful hug that transcended this world. Time flew and I couldn’t tell you what I said in addressing the group. Marcia recorded it on her phone. Her pastor, Bro. Larry Andrews, and Music Minister Jim Graham had begun our day with an invigorating worship service that inspired the coming new week.
<p>
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<p>
Joyce held the guide so Ms. Mary Lee could personally autograph her books for her friends. Her best friend from childhood, Cinda, arrived from San Antonio, in the company of two of her handsome (Aggie) grandsons who’d grown up known Ms. Mary Lee as extended family. After 7 decades of friendship, these two beloved sister-friends still talk on the phone twice a day. That fact alone made me smile for hours. When the party was done, all was right with the world, as we parted with half of our entire inventory moved in that one book signing.
<p>
The next time you think life has passed you by, all chances to turn your world around are gone, or that there’s nothing new on the horizon for you, take Ms. Mary Lee’s advice and pray about it. And prepare to see a path forward being cleared so you can achieve your heart’s desire. You may be 86 years old when it arrives, but still, there’s nothing quite as sweet as when a longheld dream comes true. It will make you want to say, “Oh my goodnessss!” when it does.
<p>
<b>About the Book</b>
<p>
<i>Down Through the Years in Poetry</i> by Mary Lee Crocker (© Martin Powers Publishing, 2022) is available for $20 per copy (includes S/H and postage). Remaining copies are going quickly, as she already has another book signing soon. Send your name and e-mail to MPowersPublishing@gmail.com for information if you'd like to order a copy.
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Dawn Lee Wakefieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04820422116291835694noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-116415734187328679.post-22910622500140935382022-05-30T17:59:00.000-07:002022-05-30T17:59:02.133-07:00When Memorial Day Becomes Real for YouWhen the doorbell rang almost 80 years ago, standing on the front porch of my mother’s childhood home were two servicemen, both looking solemn, asking to speak in person with my mother, at the time a young woman in her early 20s. <p>
As they spoke, her expression froze, as time stopped for her that day. She learned that her fiancé, a navigator serving in the U.S. Army Air Corps, had gone missing in action while on a squadron mission during World War II. The rest of the words they spoke drifted into the vapor as she processed the news.<p>
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<p>
Her mind rushed back to images of their happiest times together. They’d met in college. He was a Pre-Med student from the north, and she was a young woman from the Midwest, studying journalism and big bands. <p>
She often missed or was late to French class, which began at 8:00 a.m. She never missed a dance. Her dance card was always filled on each occasion. And no fewer than six young men had asked her to wear their fraternity pins, which she had done from time to time, “because they began crying when she said ‘no’ to their first request.
<p>
Known for her love of life, sense of humor, and truthful heart and spirit, surely she was destined for a life of “happily ever after.” So thought every woman who was in college to get an education and possibly find their soulmate at some point. The nuclear family of husband, wife, and 2.3 children, a dog, a cat, and a picket fence surrounding their home wasn't that far away was it?
<p>
Those were the days. Music on the radio, supper clubs with live music, fine food, and dancing the night away were for dating. Drive-in movies could find three couples fit into wide roadsters that had convertible tops for fresh-air theatre, before it became billed as “movies under the stars.”
Six people could attend the movie for the price of a “carload” back when no one had much money for dates. A bowlful of prepopped popcorn could be stored to save a trip to the concession stands. You propped the tinny speaker on the driver’s side window to hear the soundtrack that Hollywood had prepared for you.
<p>
Before he had left college to serve his country, he’d asked her to marry him, on more than one occasion. She declined, saying that she wanted to wait until he came home safely before they began life together. His number had been called and he didn’t want to take the deferment because he was a medical student. He was ready to serve his country. “It was the right thing to do,” he said. She agreed.
She was firm in her decision, having reflected for days at a time whether or not to at least start life out by taking a chance that everything would be all right and they would live happily ever after.
<p>
And yet, there was only one decision for her—wait until he came home. He asked if she would at least wear a ring while she waited. Although she declined, she said, “I am your fiancée and that is all you need to know. Come back to me after the war, and I will be your wife.”
Days, weeks, and months went by. At the movies there were the news reels and films showing our country at war. It was a time of war bonds, of doing without some luxuries, and of rationing things they used to take for granted.
<p>
Women were working in jobs that were traditionally held by men. She was a secretary at the U.S. Treasury at that point in her career, having left college because funds were tight, and all income was needed to keep the large family going. The nation’s attitude was united in fighting a common enemy abroad. There was no question about all who would serve.
<p>
Until that fateful day arrived. The doorbell rang. The news was delivered. Life as she knew it, or expected it to be, was over. She faced a myriad of decisions about the future. Mostly for a while it was a blur. Her own brothers had lied to enter the service far before their 18th birthdays and our armed forces needed those who would be willing to serve so they paid little attention to ID before swearing in those ready to defend the United States.
<p>
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The weapons they were issued back then were not sophisticated, but they got the job done. Looking at the faces of the young men in combat back then, they didn’t approach their jobs with an expectation of dying. They painted the outsides of their planes to fit their personalities and sassy slogans adorned the fuselage.
<p>
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They knew every inch of their aircraft and the people who were on base in charge of maintenance. Soldiers trained and prepared for their individual roles, but they knew where each was vital within their squadron. On each plane you would have a pilot, a copilot, a navigator, a bomber, one or two gunners, an engineer, and a radio operator.
<p>
You flew numerous training missions to get ready for the day and time when you would be airborne, on a mission to defend and protect your country. Adrenaline rushed and blood pressure spiked. There is no real-life equivalent to the actual circumstances, not even in Hollywood’s current depiction of “Top Gun: Maverick.”
<p>
Yet, on this Memorial Day, multiple generations of the families of those who were killed in war have this one day for our nation to remember the loss of their lives to protect our country.
<p>
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As it turns out, the young woman who was never to marry the love of her life would know that some of the squadron made it back when her man did not. For over 30 years, she was not in contact with any of them. In that time she’d worked for several years, married, and years later had a child, and ultimately divorced.
<p>
The child would grow up hearing about her mother’s early life and challenges she faced. When asked how she managed to cope with the loss, she responded, “Faith in God,” and that didn’t come instantly. A child who’d been to church all her life, her faith went down in the shrapnel of that burning airplane and stayed as missing in action for a year as her fiancé was.
<p>
But into her life came the birth of her a child of her brother and his wife, and he was also in service at the time. The presence of the little one as they, too, lived in the family home, made her realize how precious life was. When the child cried at night, the woman who went to check on her was her aunt, so the mother could sleep a little more. In those quiet nights together, the woman rocking the little girl fell back into faith, because she relearned how to love again. Days became brighter as time went on.
<p>
Fifty years after the war, in 1996, the woman recalled that one of the men in the squadron that her fiance had belonged to was from Texas A&M. A call to the Association of Former Students later, she dialed the number of the former student who was still living in Texas. In a conversation that lasted about 45 minutes, the woman learned details about the mission, and her fiance, that no one else could have known to tell her.
<p>
In that conversation, she found closure to her grief that had haunted her about the unknown. She knew exactly what had preceded his going missing in action and why it was understandble that her fiance and another soldier had gone and remained missing in action. It took over 50 years for closure, which was fortunate in that many women who lost loved ones in World War II never got that kind of understanding. A miracle and an Aggie angel brought that gift.
<p>
This week we face a tragedy of massive proportions equivalent to the one last week from the mass loss of lives thanks to the suspension of laws that previously forbade assault weapons being readily available. The right to bear arms is found in the Second Amendment to the U.S. constitution.
<p>
Those who read People magazine might recall in 2013, the Manchin-Toomey amendment that would have required “background checks on all commercial gun sales.” This was proposed “four months after 26 people were killed at Sandy Hook elementary” and it fell <a href="https://people.com/politics/the-lawmakers-who-receive-the-most-funding-from-nra/" target="_blank">six votes short</a> of getting 60 votes needed to overcome a filibuster. Here’s why: “Nearly all of the 46 senators who voted against that amendment had accepted significant campaign contributions from PACs associated with gun rights groups, including the NRA.”
<p>
Let’s be clear. All of you professional hunters, sportsmen, gamesmen (and women), and even those of you who love your NRA—I’m not at all asking you to put down your guns. I’m not “coming after your weapons” and those of you who know me better know that or you’re not paying attention.
<p>
It’s your right to own guns. It is not your right to arm children with assault rifles and not even wonder how an 18-year-old can afford to buy not 1, but 2 of them within 48 hours and a bunch of ammo to go with it. How many 18-year-olds that you know actually need an assault rifle? The kind they build to protect service personnel and kill enemies of war? That kind?
<p>
We cannot go back in time and recover the lives that were lost in World War II any more than we can bring back the lives of the children whose lives were lost last week. But going forward we can do far more than we have to keep our children and our teachers, staff, and administrators safe at school.
<p>
Here at home in the Brazos Valley, we do a better job of honoring lives that were lost. Wreath-placing on graves, ceremonies at the Brazos Valley Veterans Memorial in College Station, and in the remembering of generations past. The lives were lost in war or wartime, maybe even in training preparing troops for war.<p>
Others lost their lives after suffering PTSD among service personnel who signed up to protect, defend, and serve the U.S. government and its citizens, lost to a bullet, a grenade, a gas, or other weapon. They fell apart after serving their country in times of war, protecting our country against those who would destroy our freedom.<p>
When all is said and done, future generations will judge us by what we did and how we did in trying to protect “those at home” from those who are enemies to the lives we hold dear.<p>
We cannot go back in time and recover the lives that were lost in World War II any more than we can bring back the lives of the children and teachers whose lives were lost last week. But going forward we can do far more than we have to keep our children and our teachers, staff, and administrators safe at school. <p>
When election time is around, remember whose elections are financed by who and what. Know what they stand for. If you continue to vote for them, then what they stand for is what you stand for. Lest you ask, “What can one person do?” the answer is simple. <P>
The same one person who signed up to defend our country in peacetime or in war can be matched by another who signs up to teach our children, coach our children in positive activities outside the classroom, and you can also exercise your right to vote for people who own their own souls. One voice, one life, one soul can change the world as we know it. One person at a time, we can change the future, if we really want to. You know how it’s done.
<p>
In loving memory of all those brave men and women who gave their lives for our county, to whom we owe a debt we can never repay.
Dawn Lee Wakefieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04820422116291835694noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-116415734187328679.post-81183846772615872872022-04-10T21:30:00.067-07:002022-04-22T08:55:28.433-07:00Blest Be the Ties That Bind—The Gravitational Pull of Keystone School <div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
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For more than four decades, I’ve been one—of many—who enjoy keeping up with my
classmates from Keystone School in San Antonio. Not just my high school
classmates, but the activities and whereabouts from many students from classes
spanning 1963–1985 have remained important to me all my life. I’m not the only
one who feels this way.
<p>
High school reunions are nothing new, but for a small private school in San
Antonio to have intense loyalty among several generations of students such
that it borders on a feverish determination to remain connected is unique. For
hours now, on the drive up and back today, I’ve thought about how it came to
be that one school could mean so much to so many. It truly reminded me of the
gravitational pull of Keystone, drawing so many of us near to it, bringing us
back to home base over the course of our lives at different times. [Photo of
Main Hall, Keystone School]
</p>
<p>
In the 1960s, gatherings were typically official holiday functions at the
school. There were never blatant overtones of requests for financial support.
In fact, it was the exact opposite message communicated by the leadership.
They did lobby heavily for some graduates to return to the school to teach
when academic studies were completed; they were purposeful and straightforward
about that mission. Several graduates did just that, and the school added a
broad general dimension to its growth, contributing to its primarily unspoken
legacy then.
</p>
Later, reunions expanded offsite to favorite restaurants or classmates’ homes,
but no matter where or how, for years we took time to meet. Individual class
sizes averaged 20 students, but it was not unusual for only 10 or 11 to
comprise the complete graduating class. For the next two decades, interest in
reunions became more class-oriented for private gatherings. One local alum
might include some 70s friends in the 60s-era gatherings but those were
limited occasions.
</p>
<p>
There was no single precipitating cause for trying to reconstruct a schoolwide
gathering, but time and opportunity intersected at the 10-year point past my
high school graduation. It wasn’t easy to get the first reunion started, but
we began in 1984. A dear friend and mentor, Tommye Brennan Howard ’63 (real
name Patricia, but don’t ever call her that) and I renewed our friendship that
had begun in 1962. She was my first call, and after a brief chat, we were off
and running.[Photo of Tommye Brennan Howard]
</p>
<p></p>
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In 1985 we had our first schoolwide grand reunion (since the 1960s school
holiday coffee events in Keystone’s cafeteria). Ours became a two-day gathering
at a local hotel ballroom, with dinner, dancing, and DJ, followed by a BBQ at
the school campus the next day. The two of us spent our spare time over six
months to find alums, recruit them for the weekend, and plan the event. We
burned up AT&T Friends and Family calling plan with memories and reminiscences.
<p>
The school-based gathering welcomed our alumni parents and/or immediate
children for a chance to visit. Some parents attended even if their children
could not, having relocated out of town, because there was a great
relationship throughout many classes that way. We were all as happy to see
others’ parents as we would be their children.
</p>
<p>
As a five-year-old, fresh into first grade, I believe half my Keystone
friends were ages 17 and older. I had a few of my own classmates of interest,
but I was constantly pestering the second graders to tell me “what came after”
addition and subtraction. Patiently they’d tell me about multiplication,
assure me that Mrs. Kumin was wonderful and I'd love her class. I was having
the time of my life with Mrs. Lucy Hines in first grade. I just wanted second
grade to be as good and thus began my early days as a sleuth of sorts. Thanks
to Carla Carter'73 and Marilyn Harper'73, they relieved my anxiety that I
would not be disappointed in what came next. [Photos: Clockwise Mrs. Hines, Mrs. Kumin, Carla Carter, and Marilyn Harper.]
</p>
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<p></p>
</div>
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People my own age were nice but really not as interesting as the upper
classmen. The high school seniors adopted me as their mascot aka "chief errand
runner." When they were clear on one side of the school’s sprawling campus
landscape near South Hall, in San Antonio’s Monte Vista Historic District,
they wanted to get messages to their classmates who were exiting “North Hall”
(the fancy term for the three story, plus basement, old adobe apartments) that
featured ingress and egress via iron and concrete stairs that resembled more
fire escapes than classroom pathways.
<p>
Willingly, I’d scamper “all the way
over” to the other side of campus to deliver a message ala Wakefield Western
Union to the classmate about the next meet-up time and location of the other
seniors.
<p></p>
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[Top: South Hall; Bottom: North Hall.]
<p></p>
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As a first-grader as yet undiscovered food allergies kept me indoors from
recess for several weeks…which found me in the school cafeteria at the same
time when the Latin Club high schoolers practiced their Christmas carols for
an upcoming holiday event, in Latin, of course. I loved how they sounded and
paid close attention. Learning by immersion, I suppose.
<p>
In my sequestration from additional germs and temperature irritants, I
picked up “Adeste Fideles” and several others and started singing them in
Latin in church without the hymnal. My mother managed to keep her surprise
to a minimum, just smiling and not making a big deal of it. Well, the Latin
verses came right to mind so why not sing ‘em? Thank you Mrs. Sallie B.
Johnson.
</p>
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<p>
Conversations with various members of the class of 1963 were my favorite
part of Keystone that first year. They were wise, they were kind, they
smiled, and they were very, very tall. Most of all, they gave great hugs. I
hugged back.
</p>
<p></p>
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When you’re new in the world of school, and your parents had just divorced,
and you were told that you couldn’t attend public school because you weren’t
old enough yet to enroll…Keystone rescued me from an additional year of nice
but boring kindergarten.
<p>
It became my home away from home, and for the rest of my life, I would find
safety and security in any halls of learning, whether modest or grand. A
feeling of calm would wash over me at the site of old (very old) wooden
desks, deep rich paneling and exquisite crown molding that were built into
the old mansions reconverted into our classrooms with minimal changes.
</p>
<p>
The old-timey radiators were the place to be near in the winter. My
adventures would soon begin in the books in the lower school library, carry
forward in my imagination, and ultimately emerge through my writing as I
grew up. From countless biographies to "The Happy Hollisters," to "A Wrinkle
in Time," my spare time hours were booked!
</p>
<p>
So, to stage that first reunion, it was only natural that Tommye would reach
out to “her group” and I’d reach out to “my group.” The result was at least
300 students including spouses made it to one or the other reunion event.
That was 1985.
</p>
<p>
Around 1994, Lizzie Newman Easterlin, my ’74 classmate, decided it was time
for another reunion; this one featured mostly the 70s folks. Virtually
singlehandedly, she organized another splendid weekend event and people came
into SA from all over, another success. She put the call out, and whoosh,
“If you build it, they will come” resulted.
</p>
<p>
Lizzie's husband at the time was new to us but he showed great enthusiasm and no signs of boredom or disinterest at (finally) meeting all the people he'd heard about for a few years. After meeting a certain group of "sciencers" as Coach Eargle called them, he walked away
shaking his head, confiding to one fellow he knew well: "Don't any of you
guys have regular jobs like mine? I heard 'If I tell you what I do, I'll
have to kill you,' so many times." Of course they were joking...well most of
them were...a few were...one was. Let's just say their jobs required high security
clearances and leave it at that.
</p>
<p>
A few years later, the reunions sort of stopped because no one was around to
stage them and do the work to gather everyone. People were getting busier in
their careers, families, and after some additional geographic relocations,
it was harder to get a group together. Keystone officials over the years
(after Coach Eargle passed away) sponsored this or that holiday gathering
but no more did most of the graduates’ call San Antonio home anymore—we’d
scattered to the four winds.
</p>
<p>
In the 1990s, a Yahoo.com online group was formed, primarily of 70s/80s
alumni, key 60s folks, and students who attended Keystone, even for a year
or more, joined the list. It was at least a collective outreach to bring
people together. Occasionally someone would start a discussion thread and
others would chime in, maintaining light contact.
</p>
<p>
Other classmates found personal visits with some of their friends to be
centralized to mini-reunions when they came into San Antonio. Some would
come in for sporting events, e.g., a Spurs home game. A photo or two might
be posted. Lives were busy and no matter what everyone was doing, we all
expected to live forever. Howard Morrow organized a band, The Bad Assets, and we chose Bill Fischer's Shenanigan's Club as the site, and a musical reunion of classmates brought many of the 70s folks back together...as in "Let's get the band back together" kind of reunion. Threat of a tornado kept some folks away but others appropriately ignored it and gathered. The Bad Assets would have another appearance at fellow group member Jay Hill's place. Jay, a classmate of Howard's who played a mean bass was kind enough to host one gathering where live music returned. Lizzie Newman and Gloria Muro Shaw (and Burton) attended, and Lisa Ransopher '75 sang with the band. The event had more talking than singing though...
</p>
<p>
Then, in 2011, a major event happened…our beloved English teacher, Jim
Klaeveman, aka Ivie James Klaeveman, died. His obituary appeared in the
<i>Express-News</i> and Lynda Tussay '73 shared it by creating a Facebook
community page for Keystone alumni. We couldn’t believe he’d passed “so
early,” as he seemed to be barely older than we were when he taught us.
</p>
<p></p>
<p>
Even as early as 11 years ago, we didn’t think we’d be losing someone we
regarded so highly before we could even reach out to tell him what his
teaching had meant to us. Keystonians weren’t like that anyway…there was no
chorus of “To Sir with Love” being sung or anything like taking us "from
crayons to perfume." In fact, we all still feel the pain of having our best
word patterns and ideas smashed to bits because we were not specific, clear,
concise, or logical in our presentation. He was the toughest taskmaster from
whom we learned the most. We all had just been lulled into a sense of
thinking the teachers we knew would always be there.
</p>
<p>
It wasn’t just me. It was so many of us finding time, when back in SA, to
pop onto campus and see what had become of the “old place.” That practice
began in the 1960s, and many of us “lifers” were delighted when we’d look up
and see a fairly recent graduate back in town, coming to campus to visit
with Mr. Greet, Prof, and Coach. Later, they would return to see Mr. Babel,
Mrs. Oppenheimer, and Mr. Klaeveman, whose time at Keystone accounted for
decade(s) of longevity. To remember and to be remembered was always a reward
you could count on.
</p>
<p>
At least a decade ago, classmate Rick Meinig'75 would travel to San Antonio
from Colorado and spend a week or two consistently in April, sometimes
Easter week or Fiesta Week. During Rick's time here, many of us from the 70s
and early 80s (and some spouses) would reconnect at events ranging from
Spurs games to outdoor lunches at restaurants with patios. The pattern that
began once soon became an annual tradition, which continues today for at
least 25 of us plus or minus.
</p>
<p>
Next up: You never know what to expect at a Keystone reunion. Exciting things can happen! ...coming soon. [Note: All photos courtesy of DLW Yearbook Collection.]
</p>
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Dawn Lee Wakefieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04820422116291835694noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-116415734187328679.post-59391818112469052022022-01-01T14:21:00.001-08:002022-01-01T14:21:03.907-08:00What Would Make Your Dreams Come True in 2022?<div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjh07tyATjq_LiyOC7tV4cZxV5Bkvm-yWc7huZ3VCFJhlQ170OYfiV17tm5YqVU_KA1ooPhO_UBgd0d1z5ejD5KkJQUI1Bsjr9IR71I_HT5L5F8Bb0fuzoFWWxb1OqQwo_6IM9id-cXMh1RfBCHkt0ALABC9yrW85VFezbYrDKAWCqm7jtIHOhgm9v-cg=s1080" style="display: block; padding: 1em 0; text-align: center; "><img alt="" border="0" width="400" data-original-height="1080" data-original-width="1080" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjh07tyATjq_LiyOC7tV4cZxV5Bkvm-yWc7huZ3VCFJhlQ170OYfiV17tm5YqVU_KA1ooPhO_UBgd0d1z5ejD5KkJQUI1Bsjr9IR71I_HT5L5F8Bb0fuzoFWWxb1OqQwo_6IM9id-cXMh1RfBCHkt0ALABC9yrW85VFezbYrDKAWCqm7jtIHOhgm9v-cg=s400"/></a></div>
As we bid farewell to 2021 we tend to reflect and judge our hits and misses over the past year—sometimes harshly. Did we do everything we set out to do? What did we fail to do? Were they goals or dreams? First, there are your goals, but at a more prized level, there are your dreams. Both can come true, and both are important.
<p>
Let’s face it. On January 1st, most people set goals for the coming year. You’re either going to address relationships with people, develop material gains, take the long-awaited vacation, or maybe earn that credential or certification for a promotion.
<p>
Yes, today is the deadline for the goals we set 12 months ago. Some goals we announced to others; others we kept private. We didn’t know what was ahead 365 days ago. Used to be just hard work and determination would lead to achieving goals. That’s standard with goals, but what about with dreams?
<p>
What did you dream about doing last year that you thought would really make you happy? Was it finding a special person, a job title you’d only dreamed of, a particular economic milestone…”If only I had ____” then my dreams would come true.
<p>
When life takes a downward turn, sometimes our dreams evaporate as quickly as they came. We start swimming in reality and renegotiating what we’ve dreamed about to simply be survive and make it to the next day. Nothing puts a damper on a dream than someone pouring cold water on the idea and reminding us that the chance of our dreams coming true are slim to none.
<p>
Children have all kinds of dreams from the time they’re able to talk. One day they might announce they want to fly a spaceship. Others say they might like to travel all over the world, helping people feel better. Still others say they want to own the tallest building in the city. A few say they want to play a professional sport. What do adults tell the children? At least 75% of parents and adults encourage children to dream. Others tell them not to focus on "such nonsense."
<p>
Encouragers affirm the concept that their child can be or do anything they want. They might even make them a cape when they announce they want to be a superhero. If the child is lucky, their dreams come true because no one has managed to throw cold water on what may seem to others to be unrealistic goals or expectations.
<p>
When do we as adults stop dreaming? Probably as soon as we find there was a dream we couldn’t accomplish. One failure must surely predict another, right? Those who achieve greatness never give up on their dreams. They sacrifice time, money, friendships, whatever it takes to do what they want that others deem “impossible” or “pie-in-the-sky” unattainable.
<p>
Why is it that adults feel the need to “bring reality” to children, to suggest they choose another path? To drop out of their dream and re-enter normal life and get used to dreams not being attainable? Maybe it's to cushion them from the grim reality they faced long ago back when they were dreaming "big" and their dream wasn't realized. No matter the reason, it’s the children who don’t let adults dampen their dreams who actually achieve them. How do they do it?
<p>
Maybe it’s just a matter of tuning out anyone who tries to dissuade them, and maybe if they’re lucky, along the way, they find mentors who help them achieve their dreams.
<p>
The year 2022 offers many opportunities for things to get better than last year. Yes, it’s true we begin on a few notes of uncertainty. There are some standing challenges in the way in all of our lives, but they don’t define us. They don’t have to last the entire year. Those challenges don’t have to rob us of our joy.
<p>
When we dream, I’m sure some scientific study or other will show that our body releases endorphins to make us happy. Perhaps holding that dream close to us in our hearts can perpetuate that happy feeling. In the 1960s we were told that one day we might all propel through the sky in rocket belts, or we might have a car like George Jetson did, or a little machine that prepared hot food at the push of a button.
<p>
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<p>
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The ironic thing is people possibly assume The Jetsons was the pacesetting dream concept that inspired today's electric cars. In actual fact, you can thank Ford and their 1954 "dream car concept" called the FX-Atmos as the inspiration for the Jetsons' car. You can read more about it <a href="https://www.cheatsheet.com/entertainment/the-jetsons-george-jetsons-car-was-inspired-by-a-ford-concept-car.html/" target="_blank">here</a>. However, I think we can thank Hanna-Barbera and their writers for the ability to push a button and have the car turn into George's briefcase.
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Remember, even Dick Tracy had a cool watch he talked into, and be sure to smile into your iPhone watch a little more as you catch up with a loved one on FaceTime..
Maybe when you win the lotto, you’ll be closer to a ride on the Blue Origin, you might get into your electric car and travel home and warm up your frozen dinner in the microwave. Each of these things started with a dream.
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Never give up on your dreams. So often, we are closer than we think and the solution is just one good night's sleep away from reality.<p>
<blockquote></blockquote>
Poet Langston Hughes <a href="https://poets.org/poem/dreams" target="_blank">wrote</a>:
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<i>Hold fast to dreams<p>
For if dreams die<p>
Life is a broken-winged bird<p>
That cannot fly.<p>
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Hold fast to dreams<p>
For when dreams go<p>
Life is a barren field<p>
Frozen with snow.</i><blockquote></blockquote>
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Perhaps while you’re at it, take a moment to encourage a youngster that they, too, can follow their dreams to fruition if they don’t give up. You may be that one person who believes in them and the result will be tomorrow’s newest best idea. That’s just part of what you can in 2022. The rest is up to you. Happy New Year!
Dawn Lee Wakefieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04820422116291835694noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-116415734187328679.post-59823507189225266442021-12-21T02:48:00.005-08:002021-12-21T03:03:09.478-08:00Aaron Sorkin’s “Being the Ricardos” Reveals Lucy’s and Desi’s Real Love in Real Life<i>It’s always easy to be loved by lightning in a bottle; from within its confines, it reaches out, holds you, captivates you, becomes obsessed with you, and never lets you go. It has captured you. It is harder to love lightning in a bottle because it shines so brightly it blinds you; it projects warmth that you fear will one day leave you. It owns you; you don’t own it. Individually you are important; together you are magic. </i>
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This film from Aaron Sorkin and Amazon Studios is the story of a week in the life of Desi Arnaz and his wife Lucille Ball—a film of passion, turmoil, love from above the elemental plane of earth and sorrow that is resolute and inconsolable. [Photo credit: ft.com]
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Having waited for two months after learning of the December 21st debut of Aaron Sorkin’s latest work of genius truly gave me something to look forward to. At one minute past midnight on December 21, I opened Amazon’s website to check if it was available.
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Christmas came early this year, because all I had to do was click, and instantly I was transported back to my 1950s childhood. The opening scene introduces Walter Winchell’s breaking news that Lucy (referred to only as “the redhead” had been a member of the Communist Party. The second scene introduces the full cast and crew of “I Love Lucy,” and there’s brilliant dialogue that will delight TV trivia fanatics who definitely know, even if they hadn’t known before, who Rusty Hamer was.
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Next, you see all the CBS executives and too many representatives of the show’s sponsor, Philip Morris in Desi’s office at Desilu Productions. Finally, we’re back on set for Day 1’s Table Read. Background music begins and triggers the process by which the show’s director, producer, and two writers along with the stage director interact. And for the next two hours, you will lose all track of time because there’s no place but the world of the Ricardos and the Arnazes that matters.
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In the first 18 minutes, you’re about to learn the backstory of Desi as singer, movie star, and mesmerizing lady killer. For every pre-movie crank who claimed there was no chance that Javier Bardem would be believable as Desi Arnaz, pay up whomever you bet with because no better actor could portray Desi than Bardem.
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Nicole Kidman’s portrayal of Lucy goes straight to the heart. Her presentation of the range of emotions that Lucy experiences in a week’s time is the height and depth of real-life angst and satisfaction from delivering what she knows she is capable of bringing. Not once during the movie did it occur to me that I wasn’t watching the “real” Lucy.
Note: to those who think this movie reflects the TV show, there are multiple scenes that would never have made it past the CBS censors in olden days, but don’t let that be a reason not to watch.
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J. K. Simmons has proved over and over again what a brilliant actor he is. He is so good that he managed to reveal the true heart and spirit of Bill Frawley, who virtually every fan of the show considers to be the lesser light and grumpy old man. In fact, Simmons’ Frawley is brilliant, insightful, compassionate, and actually funny.
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So far that’s three Academy Award winners so who do we get for Vivian Vance? A Tony Award winner, Nina Arianda. This may be the first you’ve heard of her but not seen. You After numerous successful Broadway plays, Arianda brings accolades from movies and television as well. Her portrayal of Vivian is superb and explores the story thread that Lucy always wanted Viv to be more like the average American housewife than movie star, especially in a contract that specified her minimum weight.
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As seen multiple times, Lucy’s skill in envisioning full comedy scenes from one line pitched by a writer to full scene is part of the brilliance of the show: “Lucy stomps the grapes” was written on an index card on the corkboard; how it “became” the “stomping the grapes” episode happened in Lucy’s mind.
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Three writers and one dreamer added up to magic. Lucy was a stickler for detail in set design, show flow, use of scenery, lines that didn’t work, and the “moving parts of physical comedy.” As you progress in the film, you won’t “hear” Nicole; you hear the range and timber of Australian Nicole as the real Lucy.
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Desi Arnaz received the credit he was due and the respect as a businessman he so greatly deserved. Sorkin made sure to show the behind-the-scenes role that Desi played as he functioned literally and substantially as Desilu studios’ President. He had no trouble leading (wait until you see how he handled “the Red Scare.”) No hints, no spoilers.
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The dialogue flows: (Lucy to Bill Frawley) “Let me tell you something about Desi. He runs this show, every creative decision goes through him. Every business decision, the network, Philip Morris, and if that wasn’t enough, he is camera ready on Monday. Takes me five days to get a laugh. He’s killing at the Table Read. And believe me, that man is nobody’s second banana.” (Bill to Lucy) “And how many people know that? That Desi runs the show?”
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Therein is the key to the major struggle in the Arnaz family at home. Home is a word that Lucy used often, wistfully, and it meant to her that it was a sanctuary for her and her family. For Desi, home was “the boat,” his home without her, as well as the stage at Ciro’s and everywhere he toured.
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Once again, Javier Bardem kills as Ricky in his prime as a bandleader and performer. Whether or not Javier ever played the congas before this movie, thanks to coaching by the iconic Walfredo Reyes, Jr. (Chicago, Santana, Traffic), his playing of “Babalu” was perfect, down to the detail of loosening his bow tie during the “Ole, Ole, Ole, Ole” call-and-answer with the band. Later on, his version of “Cuban Pete” is another showstopper.
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One unique aspect of the film is Sorkin’s inside look at the relationship between Jess Oppenheimer (writer and producer), Madelyn Pugh Davis (who just died this past April at age 90) and Bob Carroll, Jr., the three brains that wrote the dialogue that America memorized each week. Lucy and Desi brought life to the words, but a surprise reveal was the snarkiness and almost ridicule bordering on contempt that the brilliant writers showed Lucy…to the point of Desi having to have serious discussions with them about how disrespectful they were to her.
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It was a bonus to see Linda Lavin portraying Madelyn Pugh Davis. Trivia fans will love that Madelyn Pugh was also known as Madelyn Martin from 1955–1960, as she was married to producer Quinn Martin, producer of “The FBI,” “Barnaby Jones,” and “The Fugitive, among at least 12 weekly shows he produced, another show-biz couple in the exact same business.
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The character of Bob Carroll, Jr. was not a pleasant one--he eternally tried to take credit for any good idea the cast liked, unabashedly and unbelievably narcissistic. Perhaps the writers' slight jealousy was understandable as your face, name, and existence are known only to faithful credit watchers, and it’s beyond real to have anyone give the writers a standing ovation, even if they win an Emmy or an Oscar. And yet, great dialogue in the hands of the wrong actors, simply is not funny, no matter what. As has been said, all the stars in the sky must line up properly for the magic to happen. Here, magic was built on respect.
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Respect was everything to Desi, not as much for himself, but for his wife and her talent. Sorkin’s dialogue captures that point and brings it home multiple times. That one tenet of faith that, at least professionally, was made clear was the unquestioned respect Lucy and Desi had for another and that’s where the love began. Offstage, it was easy to see where the love faded.
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Lucy (with or without husband Gary Morton’s consent) stayed dear friends with Desi and his wife Edith. The two wives were very close and the blended families were often at Lucy’s home, so that everyone could visit with Lucie, Desi, Jr., and the grandchildren. Everyone had access to unconditional love in real life.
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And yet, the acting and producing was also their real life. Lucy’s gift was comedy, not the Rita Hayworth and Judy Holiday stars that shone brightly on the dramatic screen. She resigned herself to that because she had a chance, one she demanded from CBS, to work with her real-life husband on a quality program that America fell in love with and shared with the rest of the world. The show was groundbreaking in so many ways, yet it remains fresh each time you see an episode today, even if it is the 34th time you’ve seen “Vitameatavegimen.”
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When they worked together, they built an empire. It was Desi’s idea for the three cameras to shoot scenes more completely and the live audience would have an unobstructed view of the action. Occasionally Lucy’s dialogue would include stage directions and only then were you reminded that this was not real life you were watching.
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Desilu Productions also produced “Star Trek,” whose shows remain almost as iconic today as “I Love Lucy,” and their reach is worldwide as well. Their “Mission Impossible” was the precursor to virtually every governmental secret agency show that would be developed for the next 60 years. For just three of their productions, that’s hundreds of millions of viewers amassed.<p>
In its debut, “Being the Ricardos” is available on Amazon Prime today in the United States, Germany, Latin America, Paris, Poland, Portugal, Spain, and Italy. It’s a free film to Amazon Prime members, but I would have willingly paid $20 to watch it tonight. The Arnaz children, Lucie Arnaz and Desi Arnaz, Jr., are two of the Executive Producers of this film. Along with other key producers, we had “one more chance” to be with a favorite couple from our Baby Boomer childhood. Aaron Sorkin is once again synonymous with brilliance in show flow, dialogue, and comedy.
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In 2017 Amazon Studios won its first three Oscars for their film “Moonlight.” Someone better make room at headquarters, because this film is bound to bring home trophies. Thanks for an early Christmas, Aaron, Amazon, and the Arnaz family.
Dawn Lee Wakefieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04820422116291835694noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-116415734187328679.post-44658355340428647932021-12-14T18:30:00.097-08:002021-12-15T00:17:18.545-08:00Zach Calzada Was the Right Young Man for Texas A&M; It Was Just the Wrong DecadeFor the five decades I’ve watched Texas Aggie football, for at least the first four of them, it never seemed like big business, a corporation, or anything other than a wonderful opportunity for young men with skill to earn a college education and potential gain entry to the NFL, with substantive hard work, sacrifice and difficult training. [Photo credit: 247sports.com]
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During the days of Bear Bryant and Gene Stallings, Aggies gave their all for their coaches. Quarterbacks, tight ends, running backs, and many other players would limp back into the lineup after having been crushed and ground and left for roadkill under a bruising opponent. If they were going to leave a game, it would be on a stretcher.
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It was the heart and soul of the Aggie spirit to “give your all” for your team, your teammates, and your school. The 12th Man stood in every space in the student section on the ready, having been taught by tradition what it meant, and cost, to be a part of the proud 12th Man tradition. That was before concussion protocols were developed. Times have changed.
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It was disheartening to read the various headlines on social media surrounding Zach Calzada’s decision to enter the transfer portal. To wit:
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<b><a href="https://www.facebook.com/HoustonChronicleSports/?__cft__%5b0%5d=AZVg82nMFa5OXa0enkQeyU-Aso-wxh3CdmiPTKYzA7PafPceh4ME2DbEBry5XQb_k1kUOCiyxYEKKPy07y0sM4tIbGieAZ6Dtd_RXL09AyFjmPB05BVjsavvnWC3d3fTvQo&__tn__=-UC%2CP-R" target="_blank">Houston Chronicle Sports</a></b><p>
<i>Zach Calzada is entering the transfer portal and won't play in the Gator Bowl, potentially leaving Texas A&M Football without a healthy scholarship quarterback.</i>
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<b><a href="https://www.facebook.com/TexasAMAggiesFootballFans/?__cft__%5b0%5d=AZWBDRV28gaSU_qwQubotqvfkFV1sSYp_WTPGGm0FvIqaioW5FAONbtgocV5GsS-xRCDpvJZw0YxgTFFgnXrJhsaXIk2PbrH9-i8j-tlPQrdhmqdnoAHIY8GqE9fgoJBYUA&__tn__=-UC%2CP-R" target="_blank">Texas A&M Aggies Football Fans</a></b> (not an official Aggie affiliated page)<p>
<i>Calzada isn't a fit with the Aggies anymore, but he'll generate interest elsewhere.</i>
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<b><a href="https://www.facebook.com/SAExpressNews/?__cft__%5b0%5d=AZUE3D_GD6bgxgykcTyYYyqQTu86-t2ZC6mg71aMdJypB7-CSziZoQkqAGvfGzoflEjZytAWhiQgYSWjNPqtd5xxE_58UVGl9Oxm-aGkzL94UQAOttKRhAoA-6KhBzdTcdY&__tn__=-UC%2CP-R" target="_blank">San Antonio Express-News</a></b>
<i>That leaves the Aggies potentially without a healthy scholarship quarterback against Wake Forest in the Gator Bowl.</i>
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This after just two weeks ago reading the TexAgs.com laudatory post regarding the “almost win” vs. LSU:
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“<i>After a tough, 3-TD performance that included two second-half scoring drives to give the Aggies the lead, quarterback Zach Calzada is this week's Overnight Sensation</i>:”
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And that, just 9 weeks after the first loss Alabama has had since 2019, under the arm of Zach Calzada, the hero of the night, the week, and the next 56 or so days….until the loss at LSU. [Photo credit: KBTX.com]
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All of a sudden, people began inquiring as to the health of Haynes King, the former starting quarterback, and then there was the news story about the Aggies signing of a premiere 5-star prospect, yada yada.
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And just like that, yesterday’s hero is an afterthought; no mention of Zach Calzada or his future potential as a quarterback who’d been not only a successful backup who led the team with dignity this year, but a true 12th Man who came in and took not one, not two, not three, but multiple beatings, both on and off the football field.
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Yesterday’s news and then today, a guy, who according to some headlines, left A&M without a starting quarterback for the “big” bowl game coming up. I think I’ve seen it all now.
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Has social media really created all the ingrates or it is instead a place where bullies who buy the Aggie hats get to join in and pile on when someone wants to rag on the one they decided is the cause of all their problems?
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It was never this way in the old days—yes, there was the “what have you done for us lately?” attitude in sports, but it was never as visceral. Back then, there was no Facebook, Instagram, TikTok, or other instant means of trashing a person, instantly, as there is today. Players back then were different, too.
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Under Emory Bellard, in the 70s, the top football players were also on the (then) GTE (today Verizon) Southwest Conference for Academic All-Americans as well as for football prowess. Ed Simonini ’78, Civil Engineering master’s, Baltimore Colts, Bubba Bean, ’75, Industrial Education grad, Atlanta Falcons, and the tradition of academic strength continued.
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Under R.C. Slocum we had more of the same, and then many players found their way into the NFL and would return after their pro careers to get their degrees and get on with life.
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We’ll skip Dennis Franchione and zip right to Coach Jimbo Fisher. Pluses about Jimbo include his inevitable good humor, willingness to appear on TV commercials and support anything that brings Aggies to Kyle Field, and he can brighten any game loss with his smiles and promises that the next week, the team will execute the plan and get back on track and get down to business and make all those working parts come together and be the team he knows they can be.
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All season long the Aggies had highs and lows, and yet we weren’t breaking through to beat teams we should have handled easily. That’s the “any given Saturday” reason, because some teams simply aren’t as bad as their antagonists think. Others have reputations that far exceed their abilities.
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The Aggies bring heart and soul to every game they play and there’s those 12th Man kids in the stands, screaming their heads off for the Aggies to win. Aggies never lose, they’re only outscored.
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This season, though, reminded me a little too much of Coach Fisher’s final season at Florida State. Back then, he had the future Heisman Trophy winner to be in the media crosshairs because of some “youthful indiscretions” and “personal matters” that if you actually took the time to read the constant details of the “indiscretions,” well, you wouldn’t be impressed.
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No matter how many times he got in trouble, he was the QB leading the #1 team in the nation and was a shoe-in for the Heisman. Jimbo tolerated, placated, and kept talking and they won the national title and the wild child won the Heisman. Win-win, right? Or not.
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Before this season started, two Aggie football players got in some “trouble” and the infraction for one of them was such that there was a question whether he would play this season. After a one-game suspension the young man was allowed to play and did pretty well for the team, and the football press called it his “offseason personal matters” that he’d be dealing with after the season was over.
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But of course. Two weeks ago, the local paper ran a laudatory article about that player being a mentor for the younger players this season, advising them on learning from his mistakes because he'd really grown up (in 12 weeks). Fine, fine.
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Sadly, if you can do something to help the school win a football game, you are golden. It’s hands-off, we love ‘em, and it’s probably always the way it’s been. It’s just that no one talks about it out loud. If you question it, you will hear from social media that you are a “2-percenter” or a “bad Aggie” or “a hater,” a term that came to life during the Johnny Manziel era, where people who questioned his off-the-football field antics were considered haters and “good” Aggies hated the haters and loved their Johnny Football.
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Except for one thing. Had any coaches been able to look past their win/loss record to bring some stability and reality into his world, that young man might still be playing professional football today, as he had unparalleled spirit, talent, and a desire to win.
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After he left, and his pro days played out in the media, Aggies welcomed him back for a while, and today, whenever he’s in town, it’s only his true friends who welcome and honor him for being the guy who not only beat Alabama, but who got the Aggies positioned to even seriously consider dreams of the national championship. Alabama is in his rearview mirror, though he graciously did a social media shout-out to Calzada when his never-say-die play led the Aggies to victory.
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Zach Calzada made a good choice in entering the transfer portal.
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Just as Kyler Murray proved out who he was at TCU, and a Heisman Trophy later, he continues to start for the Atlanta Falcons each week, and A&M is a distant memory in his rearview mirror. Players these days are fortunate to have parents or mentors as advocates looking ahead for their young proteges.
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Any “fans” who slammed Zach on social media might read what he posted in response to the slams, excerpted from the edited version on Instagram:
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“The overwhelming majority of the 12th Man has given me unwavering support. In exchange I gave you my left ankle against Mississippi State, my left knee against Alabama and my left shoulder against Auburn & again last night, and I will continue to give everything for this team and this University.”
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It’s painful to recall watching the injuries Zach sustained, possibly at the inexperience of his offensive line. That we got a bowl game this year, despite his injuries, can be summed up to his willingness to “step into the medical tent,” followed by a worried Jimbo Fisher.
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One can only imagine Fisher’s angst as he wondered about the well-being of his player and the outcome of the game that remained to be played. That’s why they pay the big bucks to the coach, to balance their judgments as to when to pull a player or play one who’s been injured a little bit longer.
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Each time Zach came out of the tent and resumed play; one can only wonder what pain he had to live through the rest of the week, after the miracle patching up he received in the tent, only to have another injury come his way in subsequent weeks. The adrenaline rush of playing to win surely saw him through the rest of those games. But the minute you might not be useful to the team..."next in line!"
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Zach made his choice yesterday, and it was the right one for him, and he’ll be fine after shoulder surgery (he wouldn’t have been able to play in the Bowl game anyway, so he didn’t “leave A&M without a quarterback”). He's been on the sidelines all year as backup and you'll see him in the bowl game. The school that chooses Calzada will benefit from his experience and skills learned this year. Will A&M constantly be chasing that rainbow of the national championship? Yes.
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Will Aggies continue to support their team and be the true 12th Man through both wins and being outscored? If the traditions have lasted this long, hopefully they can last a little longer. But will A&M continue to perpetuate a culture that allows cyberbullies to challenge the resounding swell of the 12th Man? One can hope that will go away sooner than later.
Dawn Lee Wakefieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04820422116291835694noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-116415734187328679.post-23285341894384117482021-12-13T20:56:00.004-08:002021-12-13T20:56:53.249-08:00TV Commercials and Favorite Songs Move You Into Holiday Spending SpiritIf you’ve been tuned into TV nonstop for football, basketball, or Hallmark movies the past two weekends, subliminal advertising is showing us all “game on!” It may take you a while to recognize who Santa is in the new Capital One TV spot this season, the one with our favorite Samuel L. Jackson popping up on Santa’s laptop as Santa is working through inventory?
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“…All right we got 9,000 tins of hot chocolate, 3,000 bags of marshmallows, and 5,0000 World’s Best Elf mugs…”
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As Santa and Mrs. Claus dance, the "Pulp Fiction" dance move has likely seeing clearly if the “ho ho ho noooo” didn’t reveal him to you right off the bat.
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<iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/7tbx9HN3qk8?start=15" title="YouTube video player" frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen></iframe>
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For the most annoying, most overplayed TV commercial this holiday season? When and if you’re locked in to the Hallmark channel, you<a href="https://www.walmart.com/ip/Star-Belly-Dream-Lites-Pretty-Kitty-As-Seen-on-TV-Huggable-Kids-Night-Light-1-ct/598709395?wmlspartner=wlpa&selectedSellerId=0&wl13=446&adid=22222222277598709395_117755028669_12420145346&wmlspartner=wmtlabs&wl0=&wl1=g&wl2=c&wl3=501107745824&wl4=pla-293946777986&wl5=9027891&wl6=&wl7=&wl8=&wl9=pla&wl10=8175035&wl11=local&wl12=598709395&wl13=446&veh=sem_LIA&gclid=CjwKCAiA-9uNBhBTEiwAN3IlND4gNl109S3YBCo-iOyt2k43FvIwg8hub-Kj_p9pPDOQ7OvSka9LihoCqIoQAvD_BwE&gclsrc=aw.ds" target="_blank"> will pay for it…with the new projection light feature, </a>Star Belly Dream Lights, and for a reasonable fee, your child's plush stuffed animal will project special lights on the child’s ceiling and comfort them to sleep at nighttime.
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<iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/08Q_BRorEEk" title="YouTube video player" frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen></iframe>
And finally, I thought I’d heard just about every version of Sonny Bono’s biggest selling song imaginable…until Walmart came out with a very strange not-rap version of “I Got You Babe.” I vote it a “Bah Humbug” version of a song I love. Harrumph.
<iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/5wyD68f7q-c?start=15" title="YouTube video player" frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen></iframe>
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How about a feel-good song? There’s one song that Macy’s has used twice in their “Celebrate” campaigns (2016 and 2017) — the most upbeat, emotion evoking feel-good songs, “Happy” by the Canadian group 2C2 (feat. Derek Martin).
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<iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/Z2RLCIwEDLI" title="YouTube video player" frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen></iframe>
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Happy Holidays and Happy Hunting in stores. Don't forget to shop local as best you can. It's great for the economy and they actually have a lot of items in stock that your family will love!
Dawn Lee Wakefieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04820422116291835694noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-116415734187328679.post-67826967241843747202021-12-11T11:48:00.003-08:002021-12-11T11:49:13.533-08:00James Holvay Offers Healing Holiday Music, Calms a Stormy WeekLate Friday night across some parts of the United States, weather damage to cities and residents was so devastating that if you were in the path of two tornadoes in St. Louis, four tornadoes in Kentucky, or 60 mph winds that ripped through Chicago overnight, you woke up to the aftermath of the fierce but invisible tumult at your door.
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Just when the storms were starting to kick up locally, I hoped to see some sign of positivity and goodness.
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And there it was, right after midnight, in the form of a YouTube video released by award-winning singer-songwriter James Holvay (of The MOB and The Buckinghams’ fame).
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<iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/AI2tzSOxEU0" title="YouTube video player" frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen></iframe>
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In a three-minute healing feel-good video, Holvay on guitar, accompanied by popular L.A. jazz bassist, Michael Saucier, offered a tremendous, blended version of “Silent Night” and “Amen.” Mother and daughter Ariana Rogers-Wright and Nala Ruby Rogers-Wright share their joy at being caroled, at seeing all the Christmas lights in the neighborhood, and production assistant Debi Otto captured perfectly the little cherub being so relaxed after a night of caroling, lights, and joy that she went out like a light and was fast asleep in her mother’s arms.
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At the end of stormy weeks and tumultuous days and nights this month so far, thanks to a rockin’ yet respectful rendition of a favorite Christmas carol and spiritual (written by Jester Hairston, a famous choral conductor, writer, and actor). Thanks, James, for starting the weekend off in perfect holiday style!
Dawn Lee Wakefieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04820422116291835694noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-116415734187328679.post-25932062781562642312021-12-10T15:09:00.002-08:002021-12-10T15:09:30.269-08:00The Life and Career of Michael Nesmith—Singer, Songwriter, and MonkeeWith today's death of Michael Nesmith, 78, only one Monkee remains—Micky Dolenz, to sing the songs and carry on the legend of the supergroup, as he remembers it. [Photo credit: Billboard Magazine, 1967 trade ad, in public domain via Wikipedia.]
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Of course, if there were four Monkees, you can count on there being four stories (and more) of how this one-time legendary supergroup came together to entertain teenagers and the adults they morphed into for over 50 years in multiple variations of the core four band.
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The “boys” that Screen Gems productions advertised for with a simple casting call produced an iconic pop rock group from four complete strangers who came together, some who knew how to play their instruments and sing fairly well, and others who needed some fine tuning to be solo artists. Together they were magic. [Photo credit: Billboard magazine, May 1967, public domain.]
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The four guys who made fame and fortune at the guidance of music producer Don Kirshner were indeed The Monkees: Micky Dolenz, Michael Nesmith, Peter Tork, and British actor/singer Davy Jones. As writer Rich Podolsky shares in his book “<i><a href="https://smile.amazon.com/Don-Kirshner-Golden-Changed-Face/dp/1458416704/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=podolsky+don+kirshner&qid=1639170629&sr=8-1" target="_blank">Don Kirshner: The Man with the Golden Ear</a></i>,” Kirshner “selected and executive-produced all of their songs.”
Of the four, Mike Nesmith was the most business-minded. A native Texan, he was born in Houston and was raised in Dallas for most of his life. Legend was that his mother had been a brilliant creative who invented Liquid Paper (a godsend to anyone with an clerical job) and so he was exposed a normal business life at home during early influential years.
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Nesmith’s business inclinations almost destroyed the group as soon as it had skyrocketed to national prominence. Behind the scenes, most TV audiences were not going to see the group in concert for a while. They had recorded their songs under Kirshner’s team including Snuff Garrett and per Podolsky, “Garrett found the foursome so difficult that after just one session he quit and flew to his mother’s home in Texas.” Keep in mind that Snuff Garrett was one of the most brilliant successful calm figures in the music business….he’d already had 24 Top 10 songs to his <a href="https://smile.amazon.com/Don-Kirshner-Golden-Changed-Face/dp/1458416704/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=podolsky+don+kirshner&qid=1639170629&sr=8-1" target="_blank">credit</a>.
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Jeff Barry was next on deck as producer—he found them entirely disagreeable to work with too. No one was paying any attention to this among their fan base because copies of “16 Magazine,” “Tiger Beat,” and “Teen Beat” had 50 pages devoted to “Which color does Micky like best?” and “What’s an ideal date with Mike Nesmith like? And few fans cared that recording sessions for Monkees’ records were closed to the public and window shades kept down purposefully so you couldn’t see the legion of studio music professionals playing on the tracks.
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Yes, you’re hearing them sing on the albums (in many places), but even the first Monkee albums were enhanced by the additional of professional studio vocalists who could manage to sing “just like” The Monkees should be singing on the tracks. Yes, you are hearing Micky and Davy in many lines but the harmony blends on choruses were impacted for the better. Many fans become infuriated to consider this proven fact but the point was you enjoyed the albums and the music.
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It’s just what they did with many groups back then—Gary Puckett’s “Union Gap,” Paul Revere & the Raiders (except Mark Lindsey), the entire Partridge Family (until they found out David Cassidy could sing), and Gary Lewis’s “Playboys” were all studio singers plus the headliners’ voices.
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But the four fiery personalities, led most vocally by Mike Nesmith, were not satisfied with that arrangement. Don Kirshner for his part, offered them a major royalty check to make up for it, but the guys weren’t having it. Podolsky noted, “Nesmith said they wanted to play their own instruments and pick their own songs.” Execs reminded them to “read their contracts,” and Mike Nesmith “punched a hole in the wall,” as Podolsky wrote.
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Meanwhile, America tuned in to NBC for their TV show, they lined up to buy 45s and 33s with The Monkees’ photos all over them, and the band caused collateral damage such that Don Kirshner was fired—after they’d had three million-selling singles and two 3-million selling albums each. That’s not the thank-you one would presume to receive—egos, pride, and attitude in the 1960s, having risen from total obscurity to national prominence.
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Smartly, Mike Nesmith had taken the initiative and made sure his own compositions were the ‘B’ side of the hit records all over the radio. <i><a href="https://www.rollingstone.com/music/music-news/monkees-michael-nesmith-dead-1270079/" target="_blank">Rolling Stone</a></i> reminds us that four of Mike’s compositions included “Mary, Mary,” “Circle Sky,” “Listen to the Band,” and “The Girl I Knew Somewhere,” all but one considered deep tracks except for the most devoted Monkee fans, who know the words to every song.
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Devoted Buckinghams' fans also know that The Buckinghams knocked The Monkees off the number one spot on <i>Billboard</i>'s charts where they'd been with "<i>I'm a Believer</i>" when their song, "<i>Kind of a Drag</i>" reached the top spot.
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Nesmith worked steadily in the music business after The Monkees. Back in the early 1970s, Carl Giammarese remembers the days when he and Dennis Tufano (as the duo Tufano & Giammarese) opened for Mike Nesmith at a Chicago club called Orphans, located at 2462 N. Lincoln. Orphan’s was a premiere folk <a href="https://www.dnainfo.com/chicago/20170707/lincoln-park/orphans-hi-tops-redevelopment-lincoln-montana-john-dillinger-hangout-apartments/" target="_blank">club</a> for over 20 years. Giammarese remembers Nesmith as being a sort of cerebral, seriously focused guy, which tracks with his career longevity and success, always concentrating on the music. [Photo credit for Orphan's building: dnainfo.com]
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The four musicians were far from a band of brothers, united only when fighting the corporate structure. Reunion tours would show that Mike Nesmith was the only one who never cared to tour with Micky, Davy, and Peter. In 1986, David Fishoff created The Monkees’ 20th anniversary tour, adding Gary Puckett & The Union Gap, Herman’s Hermits, and The Grass Roots, and quoting the <i><a href="https://www.monkeeslivealmanac.com/1986-20th-anniversary-north-american-tour.html" target="_blank">LA Times</a></i>’ review, played “to a crowd of more than 11,000 screaming fans that spanned two generations.” Still, no Nesmith.
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<iframe width="560" height="315" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/KyqKwAVDPVg" title="YouTube video player" frameborder="0" allow="accelerometer; autoplay; clipboard-write; encrypted-media; gyroscope; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen></iframe>
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However, for a concert on September 7, 1986, Nesmith joined the others at The Greek Theatre:
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From May 12, 2011 to July 23, 2011, the 45th Anniversary <a href="http://www.ticketsarasota.com/2011-03-01/section/nightlife/hey-hey-theyre-almost-all-the-monkees/" target="_blank">tour</a> included Dolenz, Tork, and Jones. Forty-six successful shows spanned Europe and North America; talk about staying power. [Photo source: Ticket Sarasota.] Meanwhile Mike Nesmith collected more royalties than the others, whether he was on the road or not. It is why indie artists have learned to own their own publishing rights these days. They learned from those who came before them.
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And, it was possibly the final concert appearance for Davy Jones in the 2012 Concerts at Sea Cruise, on board with The Buckinghams, Paul Revere & the Raiders, and Charlie Thomas’ Coasters. During the show I attended, Davy said boldly, yet wistfully, as he sang “Mary, Mary” that it was a song written by Mike Nesmith, the “smart one of us” in the group. Jones passed away unexpectedly the next month.
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It could be that Nesmith just preferred not being where Davy Jones was, because he agreed to <a href="https://www.azcentral.com/story/entertainment/music/2021/09/16/the-monkees-farewell-tour-micky-dolenz/8341958002/" target="_blank">tour</a> almost immediately after, with Micky Dolenz and Peter Tork.
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Nesmith may not be the originator of music videos or MTV, but he was certainly among the pioneers of the genre. The Monkees TV shows were inspirational for that, kooky antics while performing hits, but in 1977, a video called “Rio,” Nesmith’s solo album furnished his label’s <a href="https://www.texasmonthly.com/being-texan/mtv-architect-michael-nesmith/" target="_blank">request</a> for “a nice promotional clip of Nesmith singing along to the music.”
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In 2018, Nesmith (note billing) and Dolenz toured “as the Mike & Micky Show). Peter Tork died in 2019. Mike Nesmith never stopped working.
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Four years ago, “he created the music video for Cruisin’ as part of the (1981) Grammy Award winning (for video) “Elephant Parts.” There are over 10,800 subscribers to Michael Nesmith’s Videoranch on YouTube.
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Again, he may in some places be credited for an originator of MTV, several people seized early opportunities to put music and film together to promote record sales (today called digital downloads). A story worth reading is in Sean O’Neal’s article in <i>Texas Monthly</i>: “On MTV’s Fortieth Anniversary, Don’t Forget to Thank Michael Nesmith.” [Photo credit: <i>Texas Monthly</i>.]
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A final musical legacy that Mike Nesmith leaves include son Christian Nesmith and his wife and music partner, Circe Link. A fun video of two Nesmiths and a Link is here:
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Son Jonathan Nesmith is both musician and artist. Check out his Facebook page <a href="https://www.facebook.com/jonathannesmithfanpage/" target="_blank">here</a>.
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However you perceive Mike Nesmith, for the majority of Baby Boomers, only wistful memories of our youth continue to flash by as brightly as a neon sign burning a hole through the night.
Rather than any Monkees’ songs, a personal favorite of Nesmith’s compositions was one he wrote in 1964, “A Different Drum,” as recorded by the inimitable Linda Ronstadt.
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And to the one who remains, Micky Dolenz, thanks for keeping the music going as long as you have thus far.
Dawn Lee Wakefieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04820422116291835694noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-116415734187328679.post-50733691211918990012021-12-07T13:48:00.001-08:002021-12-09T19:49:35.581-08:00Aaron Sorkin’s “Being the Ricardos” Is Sure-Fire SuccessHow would you like to go behind the scenes of the early days of Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz’s life? Academy Award winners Nicole Kidman and Javier Bardem recreate the roles of one of America’s most beloved couples, which you can watch later this week in theatres or later this month on Amazon Prime Video.
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In “Being the Ricardos,” Amazon Studios is flexing its powerful position in the online universe as an independent movie production house sufficient to draw the creative mind of Academy Award Winner Aaron Sorkin to create his latest masterpiece. Who better than Sorkin to research the lives of this unique married couple who turned television production on its ears early in the broadcasting industry?
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Sorkin’s rapid-fire dialogue and effective storytelling pace guarantees a breathless race through all things Ricardo and Arnaz. Academy Award winner J. K. Simmons portrays William Frawley and Nina Arianda plays Vivian Vance.
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As writer and director, Sorkin has found the perfect way to tell the real-life Lucy-Desi story set in a time capsule of just one week of their lives. Rarely are the powerful television producers, cameramen, or advertising sponsors (Philip Morris cigarettes) seen as weighing in on every aspect of the weekly production. Here, you go quietly behind the scenes to reality.
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Some people forget that Desilu Productions was founded as a production company for the “I Love Lucy” show, or that Desi was an astute businessman and creative visionary. The pilot was produced for $5,000 via Desilu; Desi was the one who insisted on the three-camera shoot for the live tapings in front of audiences. He was the one who planned ahead to own their own episodes for potential rebroadcasting in subsequent years. Later, Desilu sold the rights to CBS; they also produced two more iconic shows, “Mission Impossible” and “Star Trek.”
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So many who caught the show in reruns just thought of Arnaz as the real “Ricky Ricardo,” the guy who sang “Babalu” and played the conga, while Lucy tried to carry the comedy all on her broad shoulders. Most never knew that character actor William Frawley had a terrible battle with alcohol for much of his life prior to the show, but it was Desi who had a firm talk with him as a condition of his hiring that if he was late to the set or drunk on the set even one time, he was fired. Frawley arrived on time and sober for five consecutive years.
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For Baby Boomers who grew up with the shows (most of them in reruns), the lives of Lucy and Ricky Ricardo and Ethel and Fred Mertz were revealed each episode to show just how strong a friendship was and how long one could endure when taken to the extremes each week. The show debuted on CBS on October 15, 1951 and signed off May 6, 1957.
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Lucy’s primary role as comedienne who sought her turn at taking center stage as a singer/dancer/performer up against Ricky’s attempts to establish himself as a viable supper club bandleader led to sufficient plot premises to keep the brilliant minds of Madelyn Pugh, Bob Carroll, Jr., and Jess Oppenheimer busy for the first seasons. Then they added Bob Schiller and Robert Weiskopf to the team, and these five are collectively responsible for the 181 episodes of comedy history.
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The next National “I Love Lucy” Day will be celebrated on October 15, 2022, and a special celebration takes place annually in Lucy’s hometown of Jamestown, New York. It’s noted that “at this very minute, somewhere in the world, Lucy and Ricky are arguing in 44 countries.” That’s a whole lot of ‘splainin’ to do, worldwide.
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I look forward to seeing what Aaron Sorkin has dreamed up and how and what he shares of the Ball-Arnaz partnership in his newest project. He won my eternal respect with “The West Wing” (who among us has not binged at least one season’s worth of episodes?)
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As if the topic isn’t enough to drive you right into the theatres, Lucie Arnaz, firstborn child of Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz said, “Nicole Kidman became my mother’s soul; she crawled into her head. I don’t know how you do that. She cared very deeply about this part, it showed, and I believed everything she said. She looks beautiful…Javier Bardem…has everything that Dad had—his wit, his charm, his dimples, his musicality, he has his strength and tenacity, and you can tell from the performance that he just loved him. Everyone that Aaron Sorkin cast, right down to the guy who has one line, is perfectly cast.”
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Produced by Amazon Studios, “Being the Ricardos” debuts in theatres on December 10, and on <a href="https://smile.amazon.com/Being-Ricardos-Nicole-Kidman/dp/B09JBBYLBD/ref=sr_1_1?crid=3FVOB6WGJDBH9&keywords=being+the+ricardos&qid=1638912028&sprefix=baby%27s+%2Caps%2C196&sr=8-1" target="_blank">Amazon Prime</a> beginning December 21.
Dawn Lee Wakefieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04820422116291835694noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-116415734187328679.post-11554387636539118842021-12-06T13:25:00.007-08:002021-12-07T05:58:55.661-08:00Gary Blair’s Aggie Women vs. Vic Schaefer’s Longhorn Women — The Good, The Bad, and the SadSunday, Dec. 5, 2021, was part of A&M Women’s Basketball History in the meeting between Coach Gary Blair’s <a href="https://www.google.com/search?q=women%27s+basketball+rankings&rlz=1C1AWFC_enUS803US803&oq=women%27s+basketball+rankings&aqs=chrome..69i57j69i61.9845j0j7&sourceid=chrome&ie=UTF-8#sie=lg;/g/11nms1dh7f;3;/g/11dxbvlspv;rn;fp;1;;" target="_blank">Texas Aggies</a> (#17, 8-1) and Coach Vic Schaefer’s Texas Longhorns (#15, 6-1). For two men who coached together at Arkansas and Texas A&M for 15 years, sadly I never thought I’d write that sentence with the phrase “Coach Vic Schaefer’s Longhorns” in it. Even sadder, the Aggies lost to Schaefer’s Longhorns today, at least on the scoreboard. [Photo: TAMU Athletics]
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An Aggie is an Aggie for life, and I didn’t think it would irritate me as much that the Aggie alum would go down the road and take the national spotlight at the school’s oldest rival. Had it been to teach at their vet school, or their medical school, it would have not even crossed my mind.
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But with the emotion that is inbred in Aggies from Midnight Yell on up, it’s as unfathomable just as a Harvard alum going to coach at Yale. Or a USC alum coaching at UCLA. Some things “Just ain’t right” as they say.
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Friends of Coach Schaefer’s need not rush to his defense and cite 17 reasons why he’s the right guy for the job at UT; I’m not questioning anything but his decision to join “that other school.” But it’s his life and his choices have netted him great financial prosperity. <p>
Okay. So many of us just assumed that an Aggie would lead the Aggies beyond the Blair dynasty. In April 2020, local sportswriter Robert Cessna <a href="https://theeagle.com/sports/texas-a-m-left-without-a-sure-fire-replacement-for-womens-basketball-head-coach-gary/article_a8c82976-7885-11ea-a4b8-7b4b037c98a7.html" target="_blank">penned</a> “Texas A&M left without a sure-fire replacement for women’s basketball” (re UT’s hire of Schaefer).
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But Texas? I had wondered what the big rush was, when the handwriting was on the wall for Blair when the new AD was hired; it’s tradition to follow the all-sport national championship quest. Nothing less will do.
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With all the miracles he worked at Mississippi State, surely Schaefer could have named his price to be Head Coach here, next year, had he stayed another year there. That’s a thought of just one person who has absolutely no insight or back-room knowledge of the way these things really work.
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Have to admit it, though, when a UT friend shared a photo from their Alcalde magazine, showing four Schaefer’s with at least three Aggie degrees among them doing the “Hook ‘em Sign,” I shook my head. It's like welcoming Matthew McConnaughey as the new face of 12th Man giving a thumbs up; it is not according to nature. Tell you what, though, UT has a winner with his support, though, and he's a welcome UT guest here anytime. [Photo credit: UT Alcalde magazine.]
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I’d only had great feelings about Schaefer’s transfer to Mississippi State, because undoubtedly he could turn their program around, and show his natural leadership as a Head Coach. Indeed he did, and he took Blair’s blessing with him, as he personally works so hard to promote his associates. Vic raised the Lady Bulldogs to national prominence in a very fast time, and set new attendance records for The Hump arena there. He did that also by taking Asso. Coach Johnnie Harris, the hidden gem, and defense genius-in-training Mary Ann Baker, with him when he left Aggieland. But yesterday was different.
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It was “interesting” to watch Coach Schaefer running up and down the sidelines, rolled-up program in hand, constantly stepping over the baseline and never getting flagged once for it. The histrionics, even with a 20-point lead, seemed to be overkill. Surely I was grumpy, and clearly his team was well coached and they were following the plan, but the other behavior was confusing because you’d have thought they were behind by 30 points.
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I prefer calm to manic sideline action. As an Aggie coach, he’d confine his jumping up and down to the chair’s width he was alotted at the time. Meanwhile, the only real temper Blair showed was to take off his suit coat and toss it to Radar Ricke (now retired, sigh, is NOTHING going to be the same this year?) and reach for his koozie of Diet Coke. Calm and assured is the vibe I want to be in sync with, please.
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I actually like and respect the University of Texas—even as a multiple-degreed Aggie, because for many years they offered degrees and majors that we didn’t. It’s important to have multiple flagship schools in the state. Texas Tech competes nicely with the Aggies in veterinary medicine and they had a solid law school long before we ever ‘acquired’ one because surely we must have one if everyone else did. Hard to fathom there being any more pressing a reason that that. And that doesn’t make me a 2%-er. Don’t question my Aggie blood; you’ll lose that argument.
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There is always a matter of state pride in being comfortable to join in whenever any Texas school was playing an out-of-state school. As long as it wasn’t A&M that UT was playing, you root for UT for the sake of state pride. At least a few others subscribe to this generosity of spirit, too.
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Even when we were not playing the University of Texas, since we joined the SEC, no one changed our school song, because it was simply inevitable that Texas would have to find their way back to our sandbox. An in-state rivalry is only as lucrative as when you put these teams in direct contention, so four years will fly by and then we’ll all be one (un)happy family together, just like before. So what? Why do we keep singing “Goodbye to Texas University” when they won’t stay gone?
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For every game that the Aggies and the Longhorns play, families who have mixed alliances have a lot of pride at stake for their team to win. It’s based on a premise that we (that’s right, you!) made the “best” choice of where to attain your academic credentials and that the opposition exists simply to be crushed, ground, and spit out under our monolithic superiority and strength.
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My mind keeps wandering back to last Monday’s first Gary Blair radio show of the season at Rudy’s BBQ. For last week and for all the years of these shows, Gary Blair has made fans proud he’s their coach, exhibiting only solid personal on-court, and off-court professional behavior. He owns every loss and never tries to hope we didn’t notice. The days of Gary Blair and his style of coaching are approaching an end at A&M but will live long in the minds and hearts of every Aggie who regards and respects him.
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Blair is forthright, analytical, and has a wise sense of humor to keep his student-athletes focused on what they did right and what they need to do for next time. He‘s had a wide range of playing talent coming through our portals and he’s done his best to teach, model, and keep up with the players to have as close to a 100% graduation rate as he can possibly manage. His teams graduate. They are out in the community with regularity as they are expected to be good resident citizens and give back selflessly to the town where they reside and play as “home.”
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This is not to say he’s the only one to do it. Every school has a similar program in place. It’s just that the way Blair does it, he’s modeled in his players the need to unite, he has instilled in them loyalty to their alma mater. He “gets” A&M, and he is the best ambassador of all things Aggie with a genuine sincerity and joy that just spills out of whatever he says and does.
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Even at the top, when the Aggie name was a brief household word nationally as the victors of the 2011 Women’s National Championships, Blair’s ego remained in check. His joy was unparalleled of course, but he didn’t buy all the hype that comes with that “one moment in time.” He has always been in it for the long haul. It’s easy to get caught up in hardware of trophies and accolades of titles, but it’s the work that his team puts forth by which he measures his accomplishments.
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That name plate on his desk still says “Gary Blair: Building Champions.” And it’s still very early in the season. Lots of games to go, many players are building excellent skills on solid foundations, many future professional players and coaches in training—that’s who this team was last night, and they have a positive role model to thank for their education. There are many victories, tournament wins, and likely NCAA appearances ahead.
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The Aggies might have been outscored, but they definitely were not outclassed. The rest of the season has many bright spots ahead of it. Join the crowd in Reed Arena and keep the momentum going. It may be Blair’s last year as head coach, but his dynasty will last far beyond this game. Congratulations to the UT players who were relentless and played with passion. They have a good year ahead of them as well.
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Only a handful of women’s basketball programs have immediate national recognition by just one name alone: Geno’s UConn, Pat’s (Summit) Tennessee, Muffet’s Notre Dame, Mulkey’s Baylor (it will take a while for the LSU thing to stick, even if she’s going home), Iowa’s Lisa (Bluder) and (yes, all one word the way announcer Mark Edwards says it) GaryBlair’s Aggies. <p>
To the season at hand, the Aggie women (8-1) are destined for a great year ahead, especially after Sunday’s learning session. So much to be proud of and for the team and many of the great things they did today, in front of 7,100 people. They played the first part of the first quarter brilliantly, which we can do more of, just keep playing basketball “Blair’s way.”
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The next Gary Blair Radio Show is tonight, 6pm at Rudy’s BBQ.
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Next home game is vs. Texas Southern Thursday, Dec. 9, at 7pm.
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Dawn Lee Wakefieldhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04820422116291835694noreply@blogger.com2