Memories of an Aggie Original–The Legendary Harry J. Green, Jr. '52

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.”

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.

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 "my bride." They were blessed with 37 years of joy until Nelda’s passing in October 2017.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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].

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.

As the six core values of Texas A&M are identified present day as respect, excellence, loyalty, leadership, integrity, and selfless service (RELLIS), the Core Values Coin 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.

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.

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.

Visitation for Harry will be from 11am–1pm at Callaway-Jones Funeral Center 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 First Presbyterian Church in Bryan, with the Rev. Ted Foote presiding.

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.

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].

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.

In lieu of flowers, gifts may be made to the Texas A&M Foundation, 12th Man Foundation, or the charity of choice.

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.

20 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Happy Throwback Thursday! And think of Bubba today, and smile. He was a one-of-a-kind friend to our community, to be sure!

Tony Dow, America’s Favorite Big Brother, Leaves Home at Age 77

It was stunning news that Phlash Phelps 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.

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.

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]

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]

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.

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.

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.”

His passing was not entirely unanticipated. In May this year, he and his wife, Lauren Shulkind posted a message on his Facebook page:

“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.”

NBC affiliate WLBT noted, as of that afternoon, his Facebook post marked over 14,000 comments and 2,000+ shares.

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]

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.  

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.

Joni Mitchell Surprises Newport Jazz Festival Audience and Everyone Else Who Loves Her Music

Welcome news appeared in Rolling Stone yesterday as Johnathan Bernstein's story 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.

Rick Farrell's photo in What's Up Newport 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.

For the first time in 20 years, since her self-imposed retirement 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 site 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."

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).

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:

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 walk Yet, having recovered her speech, at age 76, she told a reporter for The Guardian her intentions, after she'd beaten childhood polio (as noted from in the BBC story):

"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.

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.

Thanks to JoniMitchell.com we have the set list 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 Laura Snapes 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]

Come in From The Cold (Dale Martin video) features Taylor Goldsmith (of Dawes) said lead and Joni sang harmony

Taylor's dad, Lenny, was an original member of 60s band the Five Americans and eventual lead singer for the Tower of Power.

Help Me (Dale Martin video)

A Case of You

Big Yellow Taxi

Just Like This Train (Joni on Parker Fly!)

Why Do Fools Fall in Love

Amelia

Love Potion #9

Shine

Summertime

Both Sides Now

and The Circle Game

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.

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.

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 noted: "'Roberta' is the first [song] I have completed [on my new album], which is very much influenced by her later work 'Hejira' and beyond."

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.

The Fervent Faith of First-Time Author Mary Lee Crocker Parnell

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.

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?"

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.

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 Down Through the Years in Poetry, 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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).

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.”

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.

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.

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.

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.

About the Book

Down Through the Years in Poetry 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.

When Memorial Day Becomes Real for You

When 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.

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.

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.

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.

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?

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.”

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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 six votes short 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.”

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.

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?

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Blest Be the Ties That Bind—The Gravitational Pull of Keystone School

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.

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]

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.

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.

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]

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.

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.

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.]

What Would Make Your Dreams Come True in 2022?

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.

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.

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?

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.

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.

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."

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.

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.

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?

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.

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.

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.

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 here. 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.

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.

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.

Poet Langston Hughes wrote:

Hold fast to dreams

For if dreams die

Life is a broken-winged bird

That cannot fly.

Hold fast to dreams

For when dreams go

Life is a barren field

Frozen with snow.

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!