Columns & Editorials

JESUS HAD COMPLETE CONTROL OF HIS PHYSICAL BODY WHILE HE LIVED ON THIS EARTH.

Dear Aunt B Readers,

I remember it well. We were standing in our living room. I was, maybe, 5 years old. It was a Saturday around 4. I can say this with certainty because I vividly recall what was playing on the television. See, Saturday afternoons were for country music programming when I was a child in the 70s. There was The Lawrence Welk Show. There was the Porter Waggoner Show. The end all be all was Hee Haw, which came on at prime time. But, before all of this, there was a guy broadcasting from Athens, TX, who would entertain the Dallas world for a full hour, cloaked in sequins and roses. It was Cowboy Weaver and the Sunset Ranch. That’s how I know exactly where I was the day my father introduced me to his favorite record album, which had nothing to do with Mr. Weaver, incidentally. My dad wasn’t even that crazy about the Cowboy, but sometimes he would feature Dewey Grooms, live from the Longhorn Ballroom. Ted was very fond of Dewey Grooms. But, back to the album. My father, per Ancestry, turned out to be mainly British and Welsh, but he spoke Spanish. He looked a little Hispanic. As an adult, I would come to realize this non-dominant dialect of his was mainly Spanish slang, but the way he could manipulate the unfamiliar sounds was magical to a little girl. So much so, that I developed my own faux Spanish gibberish (face palm). Since my father’s attempts to explain offensive behaviors fell on tiny, stubborn ears, his next strategy was to show me what real Spanish sounded like. Enter Vicki Carr, El Paso born, Grammy winning, brilliant vocalist of Mexican ancestry. In an era where record execs wouldn’t push Latin music – wouldn’t sell, they said – Vicki Carr (Florencia Bisenta de Casillas-Martinez Cardona) proved them wrong. She was Dad’s favorite. Once I heard her beautiful voice, I stopped speaking fake Spanish. Good lookin’ out, Dad. And, this, folks, is the imagery I chose to introduce this week’s topic. Music is, truly, the tapestry of our lives. Music teaches. Straight out of the womb, we’re immersed into a world of melodies. From the oddly macabre “Rock-A-Bye-Baby” lyrics (thought to be a death wish directed toward the son of King James II when, after his conversion to Catholicism, the people feared he was planning to force a new religion in England) to chants about spiders getting washed out of their cozy spout homes to my grandmother’s favorite ditty about riding a horse to a plum orchard (Granberry Crossing? Cranberry?) where the plum crop was decimated and the child ultimately falls off of the pony on the way home, we musically indoctrinate upon entry into this world. Personally, I had different go to songs for each of my children. For my eldest, Dillan, with his blue eyes that were a shocking surprise to me, but that his brown eyed brother’s children both inherited, I softly sang Bob Dylan’s “A Hard Rain’s A- Gonna Fall” to rock him to sleep. When middle kiddo Daniel was born, I seamlessly switched over to Elton John’s “Daniel.” And, with my 3rd child, the precious little princess, I was in my wistful activist/ Sinead O’Connor phase. To sweet Chynna, I sang “Three Babies,” which remains on my list of songs I want at my own memorial. I often poll my children for column statistics. One daughter-in-law preferred rocking the babes sans vocals. Ear to momma’s heartbeat turned out to be the musical soother of choice. The other daughter-in-law cares for nieces on a daily basis and tends to use the old “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” seasoned with the occasional DMX “For My Dogs.” I’m sure the acapella version is soothing. My grandchildren, when rocked by me, have both been subjected to my slightly off-key version of “Baby Mine,” from Dumbo. Because, when a kid has hurt feelings, what else is there to do besides seek comfort in your grandmother? The verse “If they knew sweet little you/They’d end up loving you too/All those people who scold you/What they’d give just for the right to hold you” makes me tear up every time. Music heals.

Christians may face some hard tests in the near future. None of us have been tested to the point of pain or loss of all we have. I believe GOD knows what He has to do to prepare His people for the things that must come before the end comes and the rapture of the Church. It does not matter what comes, Christians will need faith to stand all tests and glorify our God. I have already seen signs that people are turning against the Church and wish all the Churches would close. Some say that the Devil is preparing people for the Anti Christ and GOD is preparing Christians for the rapture.

Dear Aunt B Readers,

We at the Forney Messenger try to write in a professional manner. I’m laughing under my breath as I type these words. I try. Really, I do, aiming to always be 3-4 weeks ahead with my columns. Yet, as with all things in life, sometimes I’m the absolute best. Sometimes, I suck. Here I sit, snuggled up tight to a deadline for a 5/6 column that can only be about one thing: 5/9, Mother’s Day. How simple, you might think. Just phone it in, you might mutter. After all, I’m a mom who’s fortunate enough to still have a mom. But, I’ve struggled all week with this topic. Moments ago, heralded in deep chested dog barks and a stampede of furry paws, the Amazon truck pulled up to make a Sunday delivery. 30 seconds of elation over the adult version of Santa Clause – what did they bring me – was quickly followed by the realization of what will be in the package. Suddenly, I understand why this column is so difficult to conceive. See, Monday is a special day, too. If my daughter were alive, she’d turn 30. The package on my porch is a box of 30th birthday decorations for the cemetery. I can’t write about Mother’s Day because I’m only ¾ of the mother I’m supposed to be.

Life is filled with challenges. There are many external circumstances outside of your control. The weather, actions of others, the economy, and politics are just a few examples. However, your response to these circumstances is completely within your control. You chose your thoughts, emotions, and actions.

After a couple of failed attempts to retire, I finally gave in. For the last few months, I sat at my desk at home looking at three computer screens all day long every day. My desk at home looked like a desk at NASA instead of FEMA as I reviewed CO- VID-19 applications and attended online meetings all day long every day. I found that like many of you I was spending all day looking forward to quitting time. I spent all week looking forward to Friday and I spent all weekend dreading Monday morning. I finally realized that I was spending all of my time looking forward to time off when I could have that all of the time.

Mother’s Day has almost arrived. As an adult, you can fully appreciate all your mother has done for you, so, on this occasion, you may be happy to give Mom flowers, candy, jewelry or something similar. But Mother’s Day is here and then it’s gone. Is there a longer-term gift that can make a real difference in your mother’s life?

Mother’s Day is celebrated traditionally the second Sunday in May since it became an official national holiday in 1914. The example our mothers give us on how to be caring, giving adults is truly invaluable. They show us that being present and active in children’s lives creates better humans. And in that same way, teachers oftentimes become surrogate mothers (and dads) for their students since teachers are with them anywhere from 7-9 hours a day. No single event demonstrated better how competent and caring the teachers in Forney ISD were than the Spring of 2020 when schools had to close due to COVID protocols. And did they rise to the occasion! Helping parents become classroom competent and still teaching--going straight from in classroom to virtual teaching in basically a week.

A few years ago, I told you the story of how I re-connected with friend Lee McDermott, a successful insurance man here in Forney who I knew as a kid in Floresville, Texas south of San Antonio. There is a very cool addition to the story, albeit a sad and glorious circumstance.

In schools, our students come to us from a larger community of friends, family, and other loved ones, most of whom are typically invested in our students’ social and academic well-being. The village that surrounds our students is critical to their overall achievement. It is unfortunate that teachers aren’t afforded the time they need to become part of the villages represented in their classrooms. Never before have our schools experienced such social, academic, neuro, racial, cultural, religious, socioeconomic, and other diversity. This rich diversity has the potential to positively impact the lives and social awareness of students, faculty, parents and communities.

A study from the Gap Year Association found that 77 percent of students who take a gap year do so between high school and college. Parents may not know how to react when their soon-to-be or newly minted high school graduates bring up the idea of taking a gap year, but additional findings from the GYA’s “National Alumni Survey” might inspire parents to look at gap years more positively. For example, the survey, the findings of which were based on the responses of hundreds of American and Canadian citizens who had taken gap years in the past, found that 98 percent of respondents indicated their gap years helped them develop as a person, while 96 percent felt their gap years improved their self-confidence. In addition, 84 percent of respondents felt that they acquired skills to be successful in their careers during their gap years. Perhaps of most interest to parents of high school students contemplating gap years is that 73 percent of survey respondents felt their gap years increased their readiness for college and 57 percent said their gap years helped them determine what they wanted to study in college.