Uplifting

While talking about my new book Hideaway, I was asked "What's next?"  I replied that I wanted to write a book about a woman having a midlife crisis.  This wisecracking man said sarcastically "That sounds uplifting."  His wife seemed interested however.

It got me thinking, I guess I am more interested in writing on the struggles without an easy answer.  But I did think that my blog here does have a lot of uplifting stories, my favorite of course being "We'll Always Have Paris"  but also good stories of skinny dipping at Tarry House, Christmas Lights, Another Successful Recommendation, and so on.

Do I need to lighten up?

Eulogy for Sam Rush

This was done by Sam's daughter Sarah Rush - March 25, 2016.  The best I've heard



You all know what it is like to experience my father’s kindness as friends, maybe even friends who are like family, but you haven’t experienced the honor it is to be his daughter. He has guided my every day, his dreams for me lead me into the future and his compassion for others is what I will forever aspire to. 

The man that you all have known, is one who is a gatherer of people, with seemingly endless energy, and an ability to connect continuously to the people around him. But this, few people might have noticed about my dear father: He was an introvert at heart. With an even more introspective mind. He was most comfortable sitting in his spot at the end of the sofa and listening to audiobooks, going on long runs alone, and sitting in silence beside you – listening rather than talking, asking rather than telling. He appreciated Gandhi’s words, “speak only if it improves upon the silence.” He took so much time considering his presence in a room, in the questions he asked, and in the ideas that he brought. “Live intentionally,” he’d tell me.

But he pushed himself to reach out to others, to make connections, even though it did not come easily to him. I didn’t really understand this about him until I was in was in high school, exasperated with the task of hosting party after party every other weekend at our house. I’d ask him, why do we always invite people, why can’t we have a weekend or a vacation just with each other? He said, “Honestly, I’d rather spend the weekend just the four of us. But I admire each person and what they create. We have so much we can learn from our friends.” I am so glad to have shared him with all of you, for now I have many friends. Father, I will extend my hand as you have always done, even when it isn’t easy. I will continue to invite the world in.

At gatherings of friends or family, he would always single out the children and give them the love and attention he gave to my brother and I. I saw the surprise and awe on a child’s face when they realized he was actually interested to know about their lives, their passions, and their aspirations. While adults look down at, or talk about the children in a room, he talked directly to them. I have distinct images of him getting down on one knee to meet a child eye-to-eye, as an equal. That always impressed me about him, because I too, fail to appreciate the beauty and wisdom of children. He built friendships with children, because I believe that he himself was child-like – believing in ideas, all of the possibilities that life offers, and, believing in love. “Children are the truth,” he’d say. He believed that talking to a child is like talking to our creator.

My dad believed that appreciating nature brought him closer to God. He knew that a god who created so much beauty would want it to be appreciated. That is what my dad did every day, from sunrise to sunset. He wanted my brother and I to have a childhood that was so green and full of life, like his own childhood, vibrant with the fruits of god’s creation. He furnished our lives, not with furniture or things, but with living breathing creatures that you form a relationship with. My childhood was filled with days in the outdoors – “god’s playground” – he’d call it.

I will miss being with him to watch the sun rise, to play volleyball in the dark after the sun sets, to stand at the top of a mountain peak together in winter, to read books together on the porch while the tall pine trees sway around us. I will miss riding horses together through cypress creek. But for me, he will exist in every tree, every warm gust of wind, in each leaf. When I go for a run, he will now be just a voice in my head, coaching me as he sees me struggling, “Thank your body, Sarah - thank your legs, thank your lungs, thank your heart.” And I will continue.

He believed in the gift of challenges, big and small. He’d say, when you don’t have challenges in your life, you have to create challenges for yourself. He inspired countless friends to bike in the MS 150, in the Ironman races, in the Houston Marathon, to go snowboarding, or horseback riding with him. Not because he needed a partner, but because he knew that we could do it. He has faith in our strength. He wants to see us succeed. I’ve been blessed to have his firm, but gentle pressure at my back – urging me to try harder, be better. I am better because of it. I think back on the hundreds of times he has asked me, “wanna go for a run?” with that fire in his eye, and I become inspired. I see passion in his steps. He made me believe. Believe in myself, and believe in him. I follow him.

One of the great lessons I learn from my dad is humility. He would be astounded by how many of you have said; 'Sam has changed me for the better.' We all know he would immediately turn the compliment back onto you, saying, 'YOU my dear friend, you are the one who has changed ME for the better!' And I do believe that he has held a piece of knowledge from of each one of you in his daily thoughts, actions and interactions. He has taught me how to appreciate others first, even before yourself. He’d tell my brother and I throughout our lives, “your success is my success. Through you, I succeed.” And now, that will always be true. Father, I am everything you are—I am you. Everything that you are, I have always wanted to be. I cant believe that you are gone, and so I won’t believe it. I will remember you, and you will act through me. Through me, you will see the world. Through me, you will continue learning and growing. Through me, you will continue touching lives. And through you, I will do my most loving work. I will care deeply for others. Through you, I will see the very best in others and encourage them to see what I see – what I know what you would have seen as well. Through me, I hope you see, breathe, love, laugh, again.

--Sarah Rush, Eulogy given at Celebration of Life at Prince of Peace Catholic Community, Tuesday March 29, 2016

Amen Corner

They  say the Masters doesn't start until the back 9 of Sunday, and holes 11,12 and 13 always play their part - Amen Corner.  This year 2016 was no exception.  Jordan Spieth enters a mysterious club - because while we remember the winners, someone always seems to lose the Masters.  This was his year to lose, but at least he's already won it.

The list of those who lost is a who's who of golf

Ken Venturi  - shot 80 in the last round

Arnold Palmer - made a double bogey on the last hole

Roberto Di Vicenzo - signed a wrong scorecard

Ed Sneed - missed a short putt in the playoff

Scott Hoch - missed a short putt in the playoff

Greg Norman - lost a 6 shot lead

And now we have 2 others:



 

While anyone can lose, its all about regrouping.  Here's to good things in the future for all those who have had a chance but for whatever reason, it was not in the cards that day.

As David Cook says, your golf score is not a reflection of your worth.

Davenport, Iowa * Quad Cities USA

I'm in the Quad Cities airport about to head home from my Midwest trip.  When I left Texas, everyone wanted to know "Why Iowa?"   The answer is, Iowa was very happy to welcome this visitor.  Everyone I met was very happy that I chose to visit, especially in this lingering bit of winter.

Temperatures were pretty cold, 40s most of the time, with strong winds.  We're just a flat prairie away from Chicago, the Windy City.

The Mississippi River runs between the cities of Iowa (Davenport & Bettendorf) and Illinois (Moline & Rock Island) - hence the 4 cities.  It's quite the crossroads of the Midwest, with the river a traditional trading area and this is where the Transcontinental Railroad crossed the Mississippi, and so present day Interstate 80 follows that same route from New York to San Francisco.   The Rock Island Arsenal is a long time military base here since the 1800s.

 Everyone encouraged me to see the World's Largest Truck Stop, the Iowa 80 in Walcott.   It was a big place yes, but also a testament to good marketing.   The Love's Truck Stop or the Pilot or the Flying J nearby would be about as good.

Downtown Davenport and Moline have lots of interesting old buildings with new ones mixed in as well.  I stayed at the Radisson on the river in Moline, just by the riverboat casino of the Rhythm City Casino.   Riverboat gambling got an early start here in the 90s and is well established.  On Sunday night we played some slots there - and it was a good time.

The brewery scene is big here by the river, lots of microbreweries.  The Great River Brewing Co was a good place.  Also the Bent River Mississippi Blonde was tasty.

Dr. Liz had chiropractor training Sat. and Sunday.  Monday we toured the Palmer College of Chiropractic.  Dr. D.D. Palmer was characterized as inventing modern chiropractic and his son Col. B.J. Palmer did a lot of help spread it and popularize this fledgling medium.  We toured his home and learned a lot of him.  He reminded me of other Midwesterners who took a a small idea and made it big in 20th century USA.  Think Joseph Smith of the LDS Church, or Walt Disney.  Even Ronald Reagan, who started working for B.J. Palmer's radio station WOC in Davenport, IA.

I had a nice drink and dessert Sat. night at the Duck City Bistro and returned for dinner on Monday night.  Definitely a 5 star meal, from the French trained Chef Jeremy.  Outstanding in all respects. And just around the corner from our hotel.

Most days we took it easy, sleeping late, late brunch, not much on the schedule.  Sunday night we saw Batman v. Superman and it was good to watch on the Imax screen.  For a $250 million movie, we needed to go big.  Walt Disney would be proud of what he created.

Certainly a good place to be and I'd like to return in the mild summertime.  Maybe combine it with a trip to Madison WI, just a few hours away.   Iowa was a good state to visit - glad I made it happen.

Tarry House

In West Austin, our neighborhood was called Tarrytown, likely named for the Westchester County, NY leafy suburb.  According to a local realtor the area was platted post WW 2 likely when that area was ripe for growth.  Probably was a long way from downtown back then.

In 1960 a club called Tarry House was established, likely on land which held the existing house and the owner didn't want subdivided.  It sits on Bowman Ave, with other houses around it.  My research shows that the previous owner was The Episcopal Theological Seminary of the Southwest  which used it as a conference center. 

 Established in 1960, Tarry House is nestled away in the shade and located in the heart of the neighborhood. It provides members with a pool, great food, and good service.

http://westaustin.com/neighborhoods/tarrytown

When we first moved to Austin my aunt and uncle took us there.  There was a pool and a clubhouse patio.  It was kind of like a country club but on a very small scale.

Even looking back then it seems very anachronistic.  I guess it got its start when the Austin Country Club moved to East Riverside from W. 38th St. and the locals didn't want to drive out there.

My fondest memory was when we were out late one night and I had the bright idea to go swim in the Tarry House pool.  I presume I heard the idea from someone else before but nevertheless, it was my idea.  My friend Tom and I drove in about 1 am and jumped in to swim for a while.  I recall we were playing the radio loud to Just A Gigolo by David Lee Roth.  No big thing, right?

Suffice to say if that had happened today, I'd be caught trespassing, arrested, fined, etc.  But this was before the days of late patrols, locked gates, security guards, and so forth.  Looking at some Google Earth photos, the trees in front which covered our escapade are thinned out considerably and there is much more parking space which was previously green space or forest.

I wonder what the Tarry House is like these day?  I hear it is still open.  Probably hasn't changed a bit.

Back Where I Come From

I always enjoy listening to this Kenny Chesney song, which he has regularly done in his live shows.  It does strike a chord as everyone has a place in their hearts where they are from.  That never really goes away, even if some try to get away.

I like to say that I have 2 hometowns, Houston and Austin.  But when I hear this song, I do think of "Where I Come From" which leads me to Austin.  We moved there when I was 14 and I went to Austin High all 4 years.  Back then, Austin was a third the size of what it is today.  The city itself has started growing at the sides but was still pretty compact.  Interstate 35 had served one of its redline purposes by separating the city West from East and de facto segregation ensued.

The big political issues of my day was forced busing to desegregate the Austin ISD.  When I questioned my father about "what would happen?" if I had to be bused, he said "We'll just move you to a private school".  Other that threatening periodically to send me to military school, that was the only time we ever discussed private school.  It was generally assumed then that the public schools were better than the alternative.

In the end Austin High was considered diverse enough, as we were 60% Anglo, 30% Hispanic and 10% black due to drawing from 3 different parts of town, West, Central and South.  No busing for the Maroons.

The school board had previously desegregated the junior highs by creating new 6th grade centers, and making the junior highs only 7th and 8th grades.  Baker Middle School was the result for our side of town.   My classmate Scott McClellan wrote of it nicely in his book.

As to the high schools, the answer was simply to bus from one All-Minority school, Johnston H.S. on the east side, to one All-White school, Anderson H.S. on the northwest side.  It was generally agreed to be a failure on both sides.  The IDEA schools in Austin are still picking up the pieces from the Anderson/Johnston busing.

Interesting, Anderson High School was the original name of the segregated high school in Austin pre Brown v. Board of Education.  We loved to trumpet that Austin High was the "only high school" and the "oldest high school" but no one ever discussed the forced segregation that allowed that to develop.

55th Anniversary of Ed and Kate

Happy anniversary to my parents Ed and Kate Turley, who were married in Houston, TX on February 4, 1961.

They were married at St. John the Divine Episcopal Church in Houston, TX.  My mother's home church.  The officiant was the Rev. Tom Summers, who was a good friend of my grandparents who were Vernon and Pearl Elledge.  My grandfather was able to dance at his daughter's wedding, but regretably died less than a year later in January 1962.

The Best Man was Ralph DeShong, who introduced my parents along with Janet DeShong.  I think that some of the other groomsmen were some of my dad's friends from the UT Golf Team - Ray, Teddy?   My Uncle Vernon (Jr.) must have been in there.  He was my mother's older brother who was already married to my mother's sorority sister Sharon.

 My father was working as an accountant for Price Waterhouse and only later thought of going to law school.  My mother was one of the secretaries in the Office of the Mayor of Houston, who at that time was Lewis Cutrer.

Members of the bridal party were my mother's good friends who all lived on the same street growing up:  Fay, Betsy, Marianne, Francia.  They are all still good friends all these years later.  And of course my aunt Sharon.  There was no flower girl or boy as families were smaller and more closely spaced.

My mother actually borrowed a dress from her friend.  The reception was at...could it have been the Houston Country Club?  Perhaps that's when my dad thought, "Someday I'll be a member here".  All these years later, yes, he is.

They spent their honeymoon in New Orleans.  That's where Susan and I went on our honeymoon in 1990.