Important Event: Safe Conversations

Blessed by grandchildren!

Gracie sings!

Henry enjoys a fresh haircut (though his dad may be in a bit of trouble!).

What a blessing, and I have two other grandsons, Wyatt and Owen, who'll be featured in coming days!

Just humor me.

Little Hen

To a proud granddad, this is pure genius and delight!

 Henry loves to sing!

 I love to hear him.

 Enjoy!

Dads

Every year at this time I remember growing up, our family and my parents, both of whom are no longer with us.

 Yesterday, I heard this George Strait classic.

 Bill C. Malone, one of my most influential professors when I was in graduate school at Tulane University, wrote a book entitled "Don't Get Above Your Raisin: Country Music and the Southern Working Class."  I guess that's why I felt the need to post the song.

Dads are very important.

Crushing loss

Recently, two friends have experienced the crushing loss of young loved ones.  Steve Wilkes lost his 23-year-old daughter, Amy who died suddenly in her sleep on November 9.  Lorenzo Brown, minister at the Central Dallas Church, his 13-year-old grandson was murdered in Dallas on last Tuesday morning.

During the memorial service for Amy Wilkes, Frank Alexander read the following quote from Mark Twain at the death of his daughter.

We do well to cherish our children and grandchildren, as well as one another, every day.

You have seen our whole voyage.  You have seen us go to sea, a cloud of sail--and the flag at the peak; and you see us now, chartless, adrift--derelicts; battered, water-logged, our sails a ruck of rags, our pride gone.  For it is gone.  And there is nothing in its place.  The vanity of life was all we had, and there is no more vanity left in us.  We are even ashamed of that we had; ashamed that we trusted the promises of life and builded high--to come to this!

I did know that Susy was part of us; I did not know that she could go away; I did not know that she could go away, and take our lives with her, yet leave our dull bodies behind.  And I did not know what she was.  To me she was but treasure in the bank; the amount known, the need to look at it daily, handle it, weigh it, count it, realize it, not necessary; and now that I would do it, it is too late; they tell me it is not there, has vanished away in a night, the bank is broken, my fortune is gone, I am a pauper.  How am I to comprehend this?  How am I to have it?  Why am I robbed, and who is benefited?

I am working, but it is for the sake of the work--the "surcease of sorrow" that is found there.

--Mark Twain [Samuel Clemens] (1835-1910), in a letter to a close friend after his favorite daughter Susy, aged 24, died of meningitis while her parents were abroad. Mark Twain and his wife never returned to the  home where she died.

Poem concerning little brother. . .

Gracie, my 9-year-old granddaughter, wrote the following poem about her little brother, Wyatt.

Wyatt


My brother is the best,
The best at being a pest!

He wakes me up at daybreak
Because he makes the house shake
With this loud screaming
Coming from the t.v. (at which he is beaming).

During the day there are countless tricks ,
Not to mention his hard kicks!

At night spying is involved,
The reason why is still unsolved!

But I tell you, he does not live in a zoo.
He lives in this house where he belongs
Where he makes and sings annoying songs.

I love him so,I’d hate to see him go,
Because he is my brother.
He’s also related related to my mother.

Here’s what I say: I love you!
And if he were reading this,
He’d say I love you too!

Brotherhood--basis of community

Big brother enjoys a meal in relative peace:

Little brother wonders about his place at the table:

Little brother makes his expectations clear:

Big brother responds with kindness and concern:

Harmony and community prevail:

[Lessons observed while watching grandchildren!]

Family. . .generations

As I grow older, I'm constantly reminded that I am now at "the head of the line" in terms of my place in the natural generational flow of my family.  When did I become the patriarch? 

Over the weekend Brenda and I spent three days with two of our grandchildren while their parents got a away for some renewal time. 

We had a blast! 

More, we enjoyed some very special one-on-one time together with each of the kids, Gracie (9) and Wyatt (7).  As they grow up, we find ourselves doing more of a "boy thing," "girl thing" division of time and activity. 

The conversations, the questions, their delight at some old stories of our families, meals together, shopping, fishing, playing catch, working on art, styling hair, pretending to be secret agent type spys. . .what a time! 

Working to ensure that as many children as possible make such vital connections to parents and grandparents is an important part of what we are about where I work.  That said, I have my own responsibilities along these lines as a grandfather. 

"What do you do, Granddad?' Wyatt asked me over an ice cream cone late on Sunday afternoon. 

He really wanted to understand, so I told him. 

I felt like I was conversing with a dear and trusted friend. 

And, of course, I was. 

Just one thing. . .

Resolutions wear thin on me most years.

So, for 2011, I'm going to open my eyes and resolve just one thing: I will do my best to drink in every blessing as it comes, and be thankful.

For starters. . .

Happy New Year 2011!

"Rock"

Yesterday morning my friend of the past 15 years or so, Rockland ("Rock") Richards passed away.  He battled heart disease, obesity and the effects of a mighty rough and dangerous life in his early days. 

When he found himself at CitySquare (back then Central Dallas Ministries), he stuck with us until his untimely departure yesterday.  I will miss him.

The Central Dallas Church and CitySquare are seeking the funds necessary to provide a funeral and burial for our friend.  He was a very poor man materially.  But what wealth of heart and soul he possessed. 

Almost three years ago to the day, I posted what follows about my good friend and partner in community building.  I post it again today in his memory and with a hole somewhere inside as I think about not being able to talk to him again, at least for a while.  As you'll read, he didn't let me get away with much, especially when it came to taking time for the truly important.  I don't think I learned that lesson as well as he would have liked, and I know I haven't mastered it as well as he. 

Thanks for everything, Rock. 
___________________________________________

Rockland is my friend.

I've known Rock for well over a decade. His life story is amazing, hilarious and, at points, frightening.

Rock is a reformed drug dealer, thanks to his focus on Jesus and family.

Back in the day, Rock was earning between $50,000 and $75,000 a month selling crack and other illegal substances. He drove great cars, wore great clothes and moved among the big shots inside the Dallas drug scene.

He knew lots of rich, white college kids.

The brother has been shot several times. He can lift his shirt and show you his scars.

One evening he found himself trapped in a Cadillac and caught in a crossfire resulting from a drug deal gone bad. It is a miracle he got out alive. The story is scary beyond belief, but hearing him tell it is so funny.

Then, he got grand kids.

Completely ruined his old life.

He told me that when these babies came along, he knew he had to change his ways. And, he did.

These days Rock is an active member of the Central Dallas Church.

Rock's health is not good. A couple of weeks ago, he was taken to the hospital in critical condition. He was experiencing life-threatening complications resulting from a medication he was taking for his heart condition. He spent several days in ICU.

I made a real bad mistake. I didn't go visit him while he was in such bad shape.

I had my reasons--most relating to my dad's condition--but, none really justify my failure.

When Rock got out, he called me.

"Larry, how's your dad?" he asked when I answered the phone.

I told him and offered my lame excuses for not coming to see him.

"You should have come by, Larry," Rock said. "I love you, Larry. You need to remember that! Stop and smell the roses, man. Check in on a brother when you can," he concluded.

I called him yesterday to tell him about my dad's passing. He and dad were friends too.

I'll work harder at staying in touch.
I love him too.

[Originally posted on Thursday, December 20, 2007] 

The old tree. . .

The image captures something of the old Bois D'Arc tree standing next to the driveway in the house in Richardson, Texas where I grew up.  So many memories remain etched in my mind about that house and this old tree.  Of course, the tree remains in place beside the drive as I remember it.  The tree is permanent.  It's stood there for a very long time.  It is much, much older than I.  When I was a child, it filled the position of one of the constants of my life.  I climbed in it.  Shot BB guns at it.  Hid behind it.  Studied it.  Spied on my best buddy from a perch up in its substantial limbs.  This tree serves as a reminder that my life is very short and other realities matter as much or more than my concerns.  I love that old tree.  Every time I pass my home place, I look at this tree. 

Confidence in opportunity

Forgive me just here for being so personal.  The photo caught my oldest grandson, Wyatt Toombs kicking a soccer ball in the midst of what appears to be a pick-up game in Central Park, New York City.  I can't wait to get the details on this one. 

Wyatt and big sister, Gracie, flew to New York City with Jennifer and Brandon over the past long weekend, made even longer by the fact that the schools were closed on Tuesday as well.  They went to see Lion King on Broadway, made a trip to see Lady Liberty, rode to the top of the Empire State Building, toured the Museum of Natural History, visited what is claimed to be the largest toy store in the world--what a trip it must have been! 

My grandchildren are blessed beyond my ability to describe, and for that I am most grateful.  Experiences like this trip set them up for dreams and learning and success.  No guarantees, of course, but a real opportunity to keep making progress. 

Bringing similar opportunities and options to the children of low-income families is a big part of what we try to do.  Such experiences are vital to academic achievement and to education for life. 

Wyatt's obvious confidence at 6-years-old battling away in a soccer match with perfect strangers, most of whom look older than he, grows. at least in part, from the rich experiences he's already enjoyed in life.

Push

Central Dallas Ministries now sponsors two editions of Urban Engagement Book Club each month at noon.  On each first Thursday we gather at Highland Park United Methodist Church (located on the edge of the SMU campus) and, then, on each third Thursday we convene at 1st United Methodist Church located in Downtown Dallas.  Randy Mayeux provides brilliant, creative synopses of the books we've selected.  Each location presents a different book each month. 

Here's what Randy wrote about the book we look into last week, Push:

As I have written often, I live in multiple worlds. Today for the Urban Engagement Book Club, sponsored by Central Dallas Ministries, I presented my synopsis of Push by Sapphire.


It was the toughest book to read – maybe the toughest I’ve ever read!

To read Randy's entire comment click here.

Hill Sawyers

My family tree, back three or four genera-tions, and I am sure much further, is populated by extremely poor dirt farmers.  My grandparents and parents worked as sharecroppers for much of their lives.  West Texas is where the family rooted for a long, long time.

Recently, my cousin brought me this photo of my grandfather, Hill Sawyers.  Taken in the mid to late 1920s out in Stonewall County near Old Glory, Granddad worked farm land to provide a meager existence for his family that included my mother. 

Our family emerged from the deep poverty of its past thanks to a combination of white privilege; various forms of government assistance, including help with education, tax policy, health care and homeownership; and hard work.  Not rich today by any means, all of us who survive are doing much, much better than Granddad and Grandmother. 

Hill Sawyers was a special person in my life. 

He took me all over the canyons and "breaks" back of his old clapboard house on many memorable occasions.  I remember how much I loved to make the trip to "West Texas." I remember being fascinated by his high-top, lace-up shoes, so soft and worn, much like his well-worn overalls.  He chewed Brown Mule tobacco by the plug.  He covered his toothless mouth with his arthritic hand when he laughed out loud.  He was a character. 

I loved the old man.

He loved me.

Recalling just now an old Randy Travis song, I guess I did think that he walked on water. 

To hear Randy Travis' song about a man like Hill Sawyers, He Walked on Water, click here.

Or, watch this rather rough video of Travis performing the song. 

Parents and progress

The following essay appeared in the Sunday, April 18, 2010 edition of The Dallas Morning News in the Points section of the paper. 

The systemic forces at work that maintain deeply entrenched poverty in our community contribute to the challenges facing low-income parents and families.  Still, the call to poor parents and children is to rise to the occasion to do everything possible to overcome the terrible obstacles in the way of their progress.  I suspect that the success Mr. Robberson suggests in his essay must alos involve a strong community component. 

What do you think?

Tod Robberson: Bridging the gap through better parenting

Principal Lucy Hakemack got a shocking response from her H. Grady Spruce High School students when they were told that their Pleasant Grove neighborhood ranks second in the nation in teen pregnancies.

They applauded.

It seems the students regarded their school and community as having accomplished something noteworthy. They just didn't get that a top national ranking for ruined futures is not a good thing.

To read the entire report click here.

"I'm trying to be like you, Granddad."

I'll have to admit that I cringed when I heard him say it.

Wyatt, my 5-year-old grandson, and I were hanging out at my house. 

For the life of me I can't recall the exact context of his statement, his words erased just about everything else from my memory of the moment as soon as he uttered them.  I think I had been giving him some direction or advice about the particular "behavior of the moment."  And, he responded well to my advice/request. 

Then, he said it. 

Out of nowhere that I was aware of really but, then again, right out of his heart, Wyatt declared to me, "You know Granddad, I'm trying to be like you." 

He meant to explain his actions. 

He wanted me to know his thoughts. 

He needed me to know where he was on the inside.

Rocked my world to say the least. 

I know about the influence of men on their children, grandchildren and families, or I thought I knew.

Trouble is, hearing it out of the mouth of your oldest grandson provides an unforgettable delivery mechanism!

Men need to do a better job of "getting it." 

Grandfathers and fathers play such a key role in the development of their little ones. 

Wyatt's confession pulled me up short.  I started remembering my grandfathers.  They were very important to me. 

Now, I am there. 

But, so are lots of other men. 

I expect we all have a ways to go in terms of really "getting it" when it comes to understanding just how important we are to the little ones around us.

I love Wyatt more than I could ever explain, just like I love his big sister, Gracie and his cousin, Owen.

They train their bright eyes right on me. 

Clearly, I need to work on what it is that I am like and who it is that I am trying to be. 

One thing I know for sure, thanks to Wyatt's open soul, I must find a way to keep the lines of communication open  between us.

Speaking of generations. . .

During days of rest and inactivity, like today, my mind and heart grow clear and turn to my family. Sweet, sweet reality that keeps me going.

Can't find a way to resist sharing this recent photo of my little gang of "joy agents."

Generations

I can remember feeling this way about both of my grandfathers. My memory of both of them makes me wish that I'd known their fathers.

Generations and connections between them--something we need to get back.

Country blues. . .possibly the best country song ever!

As I've said often before, I love country music. It's just where I came from!

This could be the best country, blues song ever!

Enjoy.

An Unforgettable Moment

Warning: Crazy Granddad on this page!

Okay.

You've been warned.

Last Monday evening after dinner with our youngest daughter, Joanna, her husband, Jordan, and, of course, our youngest grandson, Owen; we prepared to depart one of our favorite East Dallas joints for our respective homes.

Owen had a better idea.

He informed his parents that he wanted to go to "Granddad and Granny's house."

It was a tough night for a sleep-over since the next morning Owen and his mom were leaving for the Gulf Coast with dad to follow in a couple of days.

They planned to leave by 6:00 a.m.

I volunteered to get him up and back home in plenty of time, but that really was a ridiculous suggestion. Hey, it's my job. I'm one of the granddads in this outfit!

Owen protested that he knew where he wanted to go. So, our sidewalk discussion continued.

At one point, Jordan produced a nice bag of M & Ms, Owen's favorite candy! He handed it to Owen. As the conversation went on, Jordan informed Owen that if he went home with us, he would need to surrender his candy treasure.

He thought for about a second and then handed the unopened candy back to his dad and held on to my leg.

We were all amazed.

We compromised in the end. Owen came home to play a while before bath and bed. Mom came a little later and picked him up and all was well.

As we were leaving the restaurant with Owen in my arms, he called back over my shoulder to his parents, "I feel better now!" Then, he had to get down and run give them a parting kiss.

What a kid!

Owen, I feel better too, and I will for a long time. I'll never forget what you did.

Granddad loves you, boy!

.