Rushing's Ramblings

(published in the local newspaper as part of my publicity duties as a Cultural Enrichment Society board member) When the musical group Los Texmaniacs came roaring to life in Horseshoe Bay at Quail Point's lakeside on Saturday night, the audience didn't know what hit them.  Many of the over 150 attendees had never heard conjunto Tejano music but were soon enchanted by one of the country's best Tex-Mex bands. The band's blend of Tex-Mex, Czech, and German with bits of Americana added is a niche that is unparalleled and has earned them Grammy's.  Max Baca, the band originator, and leader, explained that their gigs had been canceled since March except for this one.  Other band members were Josh Baca, Lorenzo Martinez, and Noel Hernandez.   Max Baca’s birthday coincided with Saturday night’s performance, and the audience happily joined in celebrating his special day with several toasts.celebrated Los Texmaniacs songs, "How Can a Beautiful Woman Be So Ugly," was

I owe my parents a huge apology.  Funny but tragic how it took 50 years to realize that I did something horrible and never felt ashamed of myself until now.   I was an alcoholic. I used alcohol to numb myself from depression and feeling unloved and ugly from age 16 to my early 20s.  It was difficult for anyone to love me because of my utter disdain for myself.  I had no room to let love dwell inside me.  While living in my ultra-religious, tea-totaling parents' house, I got plastered almost every weekend and often during the weeknights.  I was a holy, rather unholy mess.   My parents allowed me to drive their second car, a 1962 Volkswagen Beetle, that my Mother drove to work.  I had a Dairy Queen job in the nearby town to save money for college tuition and needed a car to commute to work in the evenings and weekends.  One evening, there was a party in the boonies outside town. A fellow-partying female friend agreed to ride with me.  Dirt roads wove past ranchlands and around huge o

My mother turned 92 years old today. She's in excellent health and lives by herself in the same house my parents bought 14 years ago in Temple, Texas. Mother was born in a Salvation Army home for unwed mothers in Kansas.     My grandmother was only 16 years old and living with her parents in rural Oklahoma when she discovered she was pregnant by a young Cherokee man.     When my great-grandfather found out who the father was, he ran him out of the state with a shotgun.     Indians were not viewed as human for over 200 years and, in some places, even today.     How we've treated Native Americans in this country is a shameful part of our history.     My mother got a good dose of how Indians were treated when she was growing up.     She was an exquisite young Indian maiden with long, straight black hair and beautiful olive skin. One of my mother's earliest and most bitter memories was being spat upon and called an "Indian bastard" as she walked along the sidewalk in

  It was a lovely late lunch with a friend this past Saturday at a local restaurant. As we requested, they seated us in the bar area to watch the Texas/Texas Tech game. My undergraduate degree is from UT (Southwestern Med School, School of Health Sciences). He has an undergraduate degree and a law degree from Texas Tech. I might add that we're politically on opposite sides, but we avoid that topic most of the time. He can't help himself sometimes, which triggers me, and I dislike him until the heat of the moment passes. I think he enjoys goading me.  Surely someone seemingly as intelligent as he would agree with me in all things meaningful.  Not. a. chance.   He frequently predicted that Tech would win throughout the first two quarters, even though Tech was behind at halftime. His crestfallen face after each point made by UT belied his overconfidence. I have to admit that I relished those moments!   We soon parted ways, and I figured this would be the last of our conversation f

  MASKS, MUSLIMS, and ONE MAJOR COVIDIOT   We had gathered together with the best intentions; to help our community. We met in a room big enough for social distancing for several weeks for training to assist our town should we have a disaster. We wore masks as we entered the room or walked around, while some wore them for 3 or 4 hours. Unfortunately, when one of the trainers opined that masks were ineffective during at least two sessions, all but one of us wore masks while seated in the room. The power of suggestion and group compliance often has negative consequences. He ever wore a mask the entire time because he stated that his O2 stats dropped when he wore a mask. I considered testing him with my oximeter in the next session but decided not to push it that far. I knew he was lying about his stats to support his position. Reflecting on the whole thing, I realize I should have followed my instincts and challenged the lunatic. After hearing him comment about masks' ineffectiveness

  They met at the dog park and became fast friends, while their human parents enjoyed visiting on benches while watching our dog babies play.  The two balls of fluffy white fur frolicking in the park were a sight. He was a larger mini golden doodle than Paddy, meaning he weighed around 25 pounds compared to Paddy’s soaking-wet 17 pounds of love.  I don’t remember the dog’s name, as it’s been seven years and many miles since that time.  For whatever reason, the image of Paddy’s buddy and their days in the park keeps popping up in my memory this weekend.   We visited the dog park in Delray Beach at least twice a week, usually on weekends. It wasn’t long before I learned that their 2-year-old dog had cancer and would undergo chemotherapy to beat the dreaded diagnosis. They continued to bring him to the park, even though he began to move slowly.   After a few months, we entered the park gate, but Paddy’s buddy was nowhere around. Paddy even seemed confused as he kept looking all around for

  Even with my hearing just about gone, I could hear something scratching inside the kitchen cabinets. Even the remote possibility of mice fills me with disgust, dread, and fear. I can't stand the nasty little buggers.     The following day, I called Steve, my good friend and contractor, about the mice. "You might think I'm a strong, independent woman, but I can't tolerate mice," I told him. "What's even worse are mice traps. I don't want to set them, and I certainly don't want to see or hear a mouse after it's been trapped."   Steve laughed and asked if I had any peanut butter. I didn't because I have an eating disorder and would probably keep eating spoonsful of peanut butter late at night until the jar was empty. Since Steve is an excellent friend and tolerant of my many neuroses, he set two mouse traps in my cabinet. I bought substantial plastic containers to seal the cat and dog food bags I had previously stored in the cupboard.