FENWAY PARK — I love to write that dateline. It means I’m back in one of my favorite places on the planet, whether it’s to watch the Red Sox or take in a concert. Fenway is a shrine, a coming-home place, a venerable, idiosyncratic stadium that I have visited for more than 50 years. I plan to come back for, optimistically, at least another 30 years.
Longevity is in the genes, so I like my chances of continuing the tradition of showing up here most summers. My late mom’s older sister, Aunt Irene, who lives nearby in Bristol, Connecticut (most everything is nearby from a Texas perspective)...
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The Summer Olympics kick off Friday night with the Opening Ceremony in Rio de Janeiro. I will probably watch a bit of the pageantry, since we will be holed up in a hotel room in Dallas, preparing to fly out early the next morning for our annual dog-day sojurn to Boston. More on that in coming weeks.
I listened to an NPR story the other day that piqued my interest about a particular Olympic event I would like to catch on either TV or streamed online: badminton. Badminton has been a Summer Olympic sport since the early 1990s. Asians and a few Europeans have dominated the roster of medalists. No American...
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It came as no surprise that V.G. Rollins planned his own wake, “The Last Scoutmaster’s Roundtable — Cracker Barrel,” in advance of his death in mid-July at 87. Mr. Rollins, as we Scouts always called him well into our own middle age, planned everything. He is best known as Scoutmaster of Troop 201, whose cabin remains at Teague Park. Under his nearly two-dozen years heading the troop, more than 50 Eagle Scouts were pinned, including my youngest brother, Gregg. (I only made it to Life, becoming distracted by cars and girls.)
In the Great Hall at First Baptist Church — where my grandfather,...
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HOUSTON — The dream began in early 2009. My middle daughter, Meredith, and her future husband, Matt, drove us about 10 minutes north of downtown, up Hwy. 59 to look at a house they were negotiating to buy. It was a Victorian-style home with a pair of turrets and robin’s-egg blue horizontal stripes below a red roof. The house was visible from the freeway. I had noticed it for years on treks to Houston. The home, built in the early 1980s, was located on an acre of land and contained two very large metal buildings. The neighborhood is working middle class. This was where one day Matt — a mechanical...
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AUSTIN — We have returned to a familiar city to see it through the eyes of an 11-year-old boy — our nephew, Connor. This is his first trip to A-town. Connor is a bright, inquisitive boy possessed with an old soul in some ways. He talks slowly and seriously, adores his cousin Abbie, and loves spending time with us. He’s my chess opponent as well. Connor is inching closer to the time he will checkmate me. The last time we played, the game lasted more than an hour before I finally wore down his defenses and defeated him. His day of victory is coming.
As we pulled into town, we pointed out the Austin...
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Kasey, my oldest daughter, texted me the other day rather randomly: “In no particular order, please tell me your top five books.”
Now that is tough. I took the Bible out of contention. That is an obvious choice for a Christian. So I sent her a response after I wandered around the study, which has walls crammed floor to ceiling with books. The list I sent Kasey consisted of my five favorite novels — books that I have read more than once. I thought I would share it with you in hopes it sparks similar list-making that can be shared with me and others. So here goes. Remember these five are only...
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AUSTIN — My oldest daughter, Kasey, is visiting friends in Austin, having escaped the humid climes of the Florida coast for a few days in the dry heat of Central Texas. I took off work early last Friday to make the five-hour voyage to A-Town. I once made this trek nearly every weekend, heading back to East Texas after the workweek ended. I still head here for one reason or another at least a half-dozen times a year.
I have sworn off I-35, permanently and irrevocably. The last three times I took that route — Hwy. 31 to Waco, then I-35 to Austin — a wreck turned the interstate into a long,...
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I learned recently that Jim Magruder had passed away. Magruder was a retired professor of philosophy and later mathematics at Stephen F. Austin State University. He and Dick Lower essentially comprised the philosophy department at SFA in the mid-1970s, when I arrived as an 18-year-old eager to delve into complex tomes and gain knowledge.
In retrospect, I had a peculiar if fascinating college education. My ACT score was high enough to get me into the university’s Select Student program, which was patterned after UT’s venerable Plan II curriculum. Besides the state requirements for English,...
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On a pleasant Sunday morning, when the humidity was low and the temperatures reasonable for mid-June, I cranked up our 1965 Ford F100, rolled down the windows, and headed to Greer Farm outside of Daingerfield. I wanted to pick blueberries. I have been looking forward to this for about it for a month, since I ran into Sid Greer at the downtown Farmer’s Market.
It felt good to be hurtling down the highway with the breeze whipping through the 2-60 AC, which was working perfectly. (That’s two windows open while driving 60 mph.) I also have a fan clamped to the ash tray, its cord plugged into...
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Dear Julie:
We married five years ago today on a humid June afternoon. The ceremony was performed under a grove of trees, cows lowing across the fence line. The wedding ring was tied to Rosie’s collar. Your daughter Abbie — soon to be mine as well — held Rosie’s leash and kept a careful eye on the ring pouch. We maintained the tradition of a bride and groom not seeing each other the day of the wedding. I learned later you were a bit nervous and stayed concealed in your brother’s house until it was time to walk down the hill. I will never forget watching you slowly descend toward us, radiant...
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