Rushing's Ramblings

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

Many memories of five years in Horseshoe Bay start to surface as I contemplate my upcoming move.  When I returned to Texas after living many years away, my initial goal was to live part-time in the beautiful Hill Country as a seasonal escape from Seattle winters.  Those plans quickly changed when my daughter and grandchildren moved to Austin.  Unfortunately, I soon discovered I had moved to a resort community full of wealthy, far-right-wing elitists.  It was a struggle to find people with like minds.  I could forget about meeting any single men who shared my core values.  Trump was recently elected, representing everything I detested in privileged white men. I experienced those types of men throughout my career, and they are prevalent in Texas.  I was devastated as I had moved from a progressive state to a state that began feeling more like the Dark Ages. I did my best to contribute to my community through various volunteer projects. I found my way to progressive groups and quickly joi

Time is going by so fast these days that it’s almost like watching a movie at warp speed, only I’m smack dab in the middle.  My grandchildren are no longer babies, and friends die at record speeds.  I suppose it’s the circle of life occurring in real-time, with the end not that far away. Wasn’t it just yesterday that I held my beautiful baby in my arms, then promptly became sleep-deprived for several months?  Those days and hours passed slowly, only to be rewarded with watching her grow into a beautiful human being. Aging is a cruel business with reminders that what it once was can never be again. I’m moving much slower now, and my daughter must help me when I walk because we both fear I’ll fall for the fourth time in a year.  All those times I held her hands as she learned to walk are being repaid in a way I never dreamed would happen to me. It’s another transition in life with the realization that I need to be around more people and make new friends.  I want to watch more games with

This is Teacher Appreciation Week, and even though it’s been more than 50 years since graduating from high school, many of my teachers hold a special place in my heart.     In fact, two of them saved my life.   I never felt I mattered much when I was young, but there were teachers in my small school who saw something worthwhile in me.  They are long gone, but their faces and words of encouragement are still vivid memories.  During my darkest moments, Mrs. Creel, Mrs. Hudson, Mrs. Vassar, and Mrs. George lifted me up.  I wasn’t aware that anyone noticed me, but the frequent bruising on my legs and depressed demeanor gave them a clue about my home life.     They encouraged me to excel in school and stay active in journalism and band.  Mrs. Vassar encouraged me to write, which was therapy for me then and remains so.  Besides the extra support I received from them, they were superior teachers and wonderful human beings.  It would have been easy to ignore me, but they didn’t.  Mrs. George a