Rushing's Ramblings

  It is almost seven years since his death, and he’s still in my head and heart. The expectation of happily celebrating the holidays with friends and family sometimes reminds us of who we’re missing, which would complete that picture-perfect scenario. Jack was the great love of my life. We traveled the world and loved every minute of our time together except when his grown-ass children or the bottle interfered. Jack was the most brilliant person I have ever met and the only man to express his undying love for me and show it in many ways. The feeling was mutual. We lived in a beautiful two-story house overlooking the Intracoastal and ocean in Ft Lauderdale. Even though he wanted me to retire, I continued to work. I instinctively knew that my financial independence was more important than any destinations I might miss because of my job. Fortunately, I was able to take time off to travel frequently. Jack was wealthy and financially supported his five children, who were over 40. He once t

  The scariness of our death isn't quite as acute when we're older because most of us have accepted that it's inevitable. As the years pass, losing friends and family becomes a regular occurrence. But the death of those closest to you is brutal, especially when they are part of your daily life.   My friends fall on a spectrum of sorts. I share my deepest, darkest thoughts with a couple of close friends, and they love me despite my flaws. I'm grateful for all the friends in my life, as I understand that I'm not everyone's cup of tea.    Two very dear friends, Luni and Larry, died this year. Their loss is something I'll never "get over," even though I'm grateful they were in my life for many years. Our frequent conversations are no more, and I'll never look into their beautiful, loving, sweet faces again.   The hole in our soul when we've lost someone close never heals, but it does make us realize that we should hang on tightly to our lov

Recently, I wrote about my long friendship with Larry. Today, I learned that he passed away a few weeks ago, which explains why he wasn’t answering my calls. Larry was 84 years old and apparently died peacefully. A former prison inmate came to live with him this past year. Larry had a habit of making pen pals with prisoners. He agreed to give his house and car to this man in exchange for living with Larry until he died. I had asked the roommate to contact me if anything happened to Larry, but he didn’t. At least I know that Larry isn’t suffering anymore from the debilitating symptoms of HIV, which left him in a wheelchair and somewhat dependent on others for his care. The following is the original piece I wrote about him a few months ago with minor revisions: Larry was a close neighbor when I lived in Dallas over 20 years ago. We spent hours on each other’s porches discussing our workday, politics, people, news, religion, opinions about various subjects, and our respective hist

  I met Clark and his wife at the pool shortly after they moved into our 62+ apartment complex a few months ago.  Clark immediately told me that he had written a book, lived an adventurous life, and was available to give inspirational speeches.  I didn’t absorb his words then because I could say the same, apart from giving inspirational speeches.  After all, what could I possibly say that would inspire anyone?    Clark and his beautiful wife, Julie, make an impression when they enter a room. Clark has a deep, booming voice that grabs one’s attention.  I imagine he was a stunningly handsome man when he was younger, and he still looks striking. Clark smiles while talking and maintains excellent eye contact.  The best trait he possesses is that he periodically takes a breath and asks about the other person, i.e., it’s not all about him, although that would be easy.   Today, the apartment building management sponsored breakfast in honor of veterans.  I purposely sat at a table with several

  I’ve been around guns most of my life.  Years ago, I carried a pistol while running in the pre-dawn hours after hearing that women runners were being snatched off the street and raped.  Did I use the gun?  Hell, yes.  One morning, I heard a man's heavy footsteps chasing me; I stopped, turned around, and confronted him with a small pistol.  When I yelled for him to get the f*** away from me, he threw his arms in the air and ran away as fast as he could in the other direction.  I thought for a minute that he would have a heart attack; if he had, it wouldn’t bother me.   More recently, I kept a shotgun near my front door after being threatened online by a man belonging to the Collin County Republican Party.  His Facebook page was literally “loaded” with pictures of automatic weapons.  He took offense to my political posts and commented that he knew where I lived and that all “libtards” deserved to die.  The local police did a great job patrolling my house for two weeks, but I figure

Over 20 years ago, Phillips High School alumni Max Sherman, and Morris Creel, had lunch at a catfish restaurant in Pflugerville.  When they first met, the town and school had been gone since the mid-80s. The Austin area is home to quite a few PHS graduates, and the two men wanted a way to bring everyone together. Morris began inviting Phillips exes to quarterly lunches at Springhill Restaurant.  For the first ten years of the “lunch bunch” gatherings, it wasn’t unusual for 30 to 40 people to gather for a couple of hours filled with laughter.  Everyone goes down memory lane with stories of football, band, and general shenanigans.  Although some have passed away through the years, 15 to 20 people still make it to Pflugerville every few months.   PHS alums are a unique bunch of folks.  Their town and school might no longer exist, but the Blackhawk spirit and memories survive.  Springhill Restaurant has honored the group by giving them a separate meeting room.  The room’s ceiling and walls

After living over three months in an apartment complex for people over 62 and listening to group conversations periodically, I'm at a loss about handling future encounters when health issues are the primary topic.   If you're around people my age for longer than a few minutes, the conversation invariably centers on various ailments, operations, and conditions. It's true; old folks talk a LOT about their illnesses!   I've had quite a few health and physical issues over the past five years, none of which will kill me, but they are annoying as heck. I long for distractions from those topics. I don't want to hear that someone living here has had four hip replacements when I'm facing the possibility of a hip revision soon or to be told while I'm waiting to go to the nearest ER with symptoms of diverticulitis that someone's relative had part of their colon removed due to the very same condition. Hearing about ailments of people I barely know is depressing and

Sitting in a far corner of the VFW hall was an older man with a long white, untrimmed beard, an old t-shirt, and a gigantic dark grey Doodle of unknown origins sitting at his feet. The man wanted to attend a political event, and his dog accompanied him everywhere. Since I’m a Doodle-lover and owner of the famous and gorgeous Goldendoodle named Paddy, I was compelled to introduce myself and ask the old gentleman about his companion. Roy shared that he found Lucky in a ditch in January near Roy's house in a sparsely populated, hilly rural county in Central Texas. Lucky was emaciated, with burrs and mats covering his body. Someone had dumped the poor soul out in the middle of nowhere. May they rot in Hell. The first order of business was to give the dog food and water, then a nice hot bath and trim. Lucky quickly fell asleep the first night, knowing that he was safe with someone who would care for him. Roy had been living alone for many years. He never knew how lonely he had been

  Unsurprisingly, I remain passionate about those detained or expelled at the border who fled their countries because of violence and poverty. I do not doubt that most of us would do the same, even those with the misguided view that everyone crossing the border is a murderer, rapist, or drug dealer. We fail to realize that those trafficking drugs wouldn’t be doing so if there wasn’t a massive demand for illegal drugs in the US. There are no easy answers. My focus has always been on families and unaccompanied children asking for asylum. The drug runners are our fault, so until we get a handle on the demand from our fellow citizens, it will continue and have a ripple effect in Mexico and other Central American countries where the drug cartels are ruling with guns. Many of their weapons come from the US.    I made several trips to the border from 2017 through January 2020 after raising money for Angry Tias and Abuelas. This outstanding organization provides aid to families awaiting asylum

  I can’t explain why I’ve moved to so many places over the years other than I was born a ramblin' woman. It’s a miracle that I stayed with several healthcare companies for more than ten years each in my career, although I wanted to quit each job about a million times. Remembering the places I’ve lived and the people I met leaves me with mixed memories. Living on both coasts in the USA, South Africa, and various locales in Texas allowed me to live in some of the most beautiful places in the world. Coupling that with traveling the world as frequently as possible when I was younger gave me an unmatched worldview. What I discovered is that people are pretty much the same. Some are fun, some are irritating, some are fascinating, and some are those you want to run away from as fast as possible. One would think I’ve seen and experienced it all. I haven’t. This latest move almost took me down. I had considered moving from Horseshoe Bay several times in the past few years. Various

Larry was a close neighbor when I lived in Dallas many years ago. We spent hours on each other’s porches discussing our workday, politics, people, news, religion, opinions about various subjects, and our respective histories. We shared core values, and I learned something new from him each time we talked. For many years, he taught writing to gifted and talented “ESL” (English as their second language) children in Dallas. Toward the end of each school year, the children gathered with friends and family to read their compositions in a special ceremony. Larry’s outstanding teaching abilities were evident at the two ceremonies I attended. He loved teaching the children, and there’s no doubt that his students adored him. Larry was born in 1937 and grew up in California. When he “came out” to his parents in the 60s, his parents didn’t respond positively, although his mother eventually accepted it. To this day, his younger brother does not speak to him because he believes Larry is a sin

I joined a friend yesterday as she made her bi-weekly Meals on Wheels rounds.     It’s been many years since I delivered Meals on Wheels in Dallas with my young daughter in tow on Thanksgiving. Our deliveries were mainly to the elderly living alone in public housing.     I vividly remember how happy they were to see two faces at their door.     The meal was secondary.     Fifteen years earlier, I was a frequent visitor to “the projects” in South Dallas as part of my caseworker job at Dallas County Mental Health and Mental Retardation.     While the government-provided apartments were small and unadorned, they were sufficient to house a family.     Again, the people living in those apartments were no different than you or me, but life was undoubtedly more of a struggle.     I always felt welcome in their homes and never felt unsafe in the neighborhood.   Oh, I’m aware that people of all economic levels live in various conditions, including tents at the border, on the streets of every ma

  I'm a typical grandmother who thinks her grandchildren are the smartest, cutest, and most adorable children ever walking this earth. My seven-year-old grandson, Patrick, spent the night with me this past weekend. I enjoyed every minute of our one-on-one time together. He simply astounds me. It wasn't that long ago that we worried about his delayed speech. Now, he won't stop talking from the moment he awakens to the moment he finally settles to sleep. If you're around him very long, you realize his mind is packed with ideas and thoughts spewing from his mouth like lightning. Sometimes, it takes work to keep up! The following is a typical interaction: P: “I’m opening a hot dog stand in South Austin. My office will be in the treehouse I’m having built. I’ll be the boss, but I’ll need a ‘Counseling Manager’ to take my place when I run an errand.” Me: “Do I get a free hot dog?” P: “No” Me: “Do you know how to give change?” P: “No, but they’ll have to give me th

I am a grandmother. Maybe not the stereotypical rocking chair, knitting, always calm and collected caregiver of my grandchildren. Nevertheless, I love them with every beat of my heart. I will not leave this world without fighting for their lives and for them to enjoy the same freedoms I’ve enjoyed. And, if anyone tries to harm one of them, Hell hath no wrath like this old grandma. Ann Richards once declared, "I've been tested by the fire and the fire lost." My tears are almost gone after the Uvalde mass shooting, and I’m now mad as Hell. It’s bad enough that many of us have had to become activists concerning book banning, caging children at the border under the Trump regime, gay rights, and women’s choice. Maybe one is okay with the atrocities against our fellow humans mentioned above, but surely, surely, most people in this country are against slaughtering innocent children. But when children (and adults) are frequently murdered in our country, it’s time to focus on