Rushing's Ramblings

I suppose I could brag about my daughter Marcy’s many professional and personal accomplishments, but that would be too easy.  Besides, in the end, does it really matter?  She’ll be retired one day, and her professional life will be a distant memory.  Her children will grow up, have their own lives, and hopefully share her values.  Of course, that in itself is a lasting legacy. What matters is who she is and how she makes a difference in people’s lives.  She quietly goes about her sometimes chaotic life without selfies or posts that disguise bragging on Facebook, Instagram, or Twitter, unlike her mother, who feels compelled to sing Marcy's praises.  When Marcy was a child, we spent most Thanksgiving mornings distributing Meals on Wheels in Dallas.  We frequently took food to people living under the bridges near downtown. It was important that she was exposed to lives vastly different from her privileged life.  One never knows if the lessons children learn carry through to adulthood,

According to Forbes, our notorious Governor Abbott tweeted on Sunday that "patriots" had booed Garth Brooks off stage during a performance in Hamsbriston, Texas. Abbott further stated that Brooks made a remark about "conservative assholes."  Far-right wingnuts are currently going crazy because Brooks announced that everyone was welcome to patronize his new bar and all beers would be available. The far-right/MAGAs are boycotting Bud Light due to an ad that featured a transgender person. Therefore, the not-so-good (nor intelligent) governor jumped on the bandwagon to appeal to his base. In their misguided world, anyone supporting Bud Light is boycotted. One of the best parts of living during these times is seeing the psychological behavior called 'reaction formation' in action. Reaction formation is the fixation in the consciousness of an idea, affect, or desire opposite to a feared unconscious impulse. You get the picture. The problem is that Brooks wasn&#

The Highland Lakes Equality Center in Marble Falls hosted its annual Pride Fest in Johnson Park today. I attended the event two years ago but decided to make the two-hour round-trip drive to see old friends that I’d missed terribly. I’ve been gone a year and have not formed friendships like when I lived there.   I have quite a few gay and trans friends. I love and support them and frankly could care less about their sexuality, nor do I care about anyone’s sexuality. If anyone ever asks me if I’m gay, I’d have to respond, “No, but I’m more like the Buddha, Jesus, or any spiritual person. I am inclusive and proud of it.” Does that mean I love ALL gays? No, some of them are asshats, just like some heterosexuals, although I can’t name one person who is gay that is an asshat. I’m confident they are out there somewhere. I would wager there are far more heterosexual than homosexual asshats, especially white males wearing MAGA hats and driving pickups with guns hanging on their rear windows. T

Our notorious Governor Abbott participated in a photo op with the parents of young people who died from overdoses of fentanyl.   The occasion was when he signed into law a measure that allows prosecutors to ask for the death penalty for anyone found guilty of manufacturing or distributing fentanyl.  The risk of this law is that there might be even more deaths if, at a party, someone takes a pill laced with fentanyl; no one might report the adverse reaction for fear that they will be tried for murder. Another law was passed that required schools to educate students in grades 6 through 12 about the dangers of fentanyl.  Hopefully, the curriculum will address all the risks of street drugs, drug and alcohol abuse, and subsequent addictions.  Maybe even throw in eating disorders! Since 2019, there has been a 500% increase in fentanyl-related deaths in Texas, with 2,000 people dying in 2022.  Most often, people buy what they think are opioids from the street. Hence, the underlying problem is

First, they came for indigenous peoples. Then, they came after people of color. They came after families fleeing their ravaged countries for a better life. Then, they separated children from their mother’s arms and locked them in cages. They came for women and decided they knew what was best for women's bodies under the facade of being “pro-life.” They came for gays and transgender people. They came for books. They're coming for school lunches and for Social Security, Medicare, and Medicaid. There's a pattern here, and history proves it will be catastrophic. Wake up, America!

My daughter, Marcy, thinks Paddy is a dog with developmental disabilities. I believe she’s confused by his sweet, docile personality. She associates his personality traits with being slow-witted. Unlike Marcy’s dog, Paddy rarely barks, and I don’t remember ever hearing him cry or whine! Having those traits doesn’t mean he isn’t dog smart. Paddy sits when commanded and will come when called most of the time. He wants to please me and is attached like Velcro. Most people are surprised when they learn he’s 11, as he still gets the zoomies when he’s excited and enjoys long morning walks. His gait is like a show dog, although he would never qualify because he’s just a designer mutt consisting of equal parts of a golden retriever and a poodle. I couldn’t wish for a better companion. He’s loyal to me, although his nature is such that he would quickly adjust to a new owner as long they gave him treats. Frequently, I thank his human father, Jack, for gifting me with Paddy, although he pass

My grandchildren, Patrick and Gigi, rarely stay with me. When they do, I try to ensure they have the food they love and trips to the craft room or a movie during their stay. At ages six and eight, it’s essential to keep them engaged. When I finally settle them for bedtime, my grandson will choose to sleep on the couch. Patrick often declares his intention to sleep alone throughout the day as if declaring independence. Gigi will also assert that she’s sleeping on the couch, but at the last minute, she ends up in my queen-sized bed with two giant stuffed toys and Paddy. At that point, I’m comfortable lying supine while scratching her back until she falls asleep. Reading a book while scratching someone’s back takes talent, but I've perfected the maneuver. Patrick doesn’t last long in the living room before he jumps into bed with us. Subtlety is not one of his attributes. Past excuses for suddenly sleeping with us include being afraid or seeing someone at the door, but the latest reas

I hadn’t been in the dog park long before an older man entered with his gorgeous schnauzer.  Paddy and the dog immediately started playing, running in circles and pretend-nipping each other’s ears. Paddy also performed unnatural acts on the schnauzer’s side, which was unlike him.  I yelled a few times to make him stop humping.  This had to have been a foreshadowing of what was about to happen.   The man appeared to be at least 80 and had trouble walking, even more so than my crooked gait. Soon, he sat beside me as we greeted each other and exchanged names.  At that time, I had only lived here for six weeks. They moved in more recently.   He told me that he was a retired military officer who continued to consult with the armed forces. I wondered how a man of that age could have anything noteworthy to share since technology had passed him by decades ago, but I was born a skeptic. Besides, he could hardly walk, and his lower lip quivered while speaking, with a slight drool streaming down

There are many early mornings when the weather is perfect, and nature greets us with a hearty “hello.” As we stroll along, the last remnants of yellow wildflowers salute us as they rise from the luscious unmanicured native grasses of unspoiled land on one side of our path. At the same time, young folks from the nearby upscale neighborhood run by to log in a few miles before battling horrendous traffic on the far too few roads leading to downtown Austin. It doesn’t seem that long ago when I was one of them, as those thirty years or so have flashed by. Paddy and I have loved long morning walks for the past 11 years, although it’s now a short 30 minutes rather than the hour we spent before hip problems sidelined me. Paddy loves to smell each blade of grass and take his sweet time doing his “business.” Gary, one of his good friends at the Geezer apartments, walks 5 miles at approximately the same time we’re outside. Gary is fond of Paddy and always has a treat for him. When Paddy do

  (Teri authored a story about me entitled "My Life with Dana Rushing" in the local newspaper after I moved from Horseshoe Bay to Austin. It was a total surprise and touched me beyond words. She is now in hospice at a facility in Marble Falls. Teri's husband has given me permission to publish this story. It will be in The Beacon this week.) I’m incredibly fortunate to have a friend I could call to assist me with the various projects I began or coordinated while living in Horseshoe Bay for five years. Other friends also answered my call to action, but Teri was always the first one I contacted because I was confident she would agree to help. Teri once said when she saw my name on her caller ID, she knew I wasn’t calling to chat and that she was being recruited for another project. Still, Teri answered my call. Teri is a talented artist and an avid reader. Her beautiful painting of a colorful donkey hangs in my home. A burnt orange wooden walking stick David made helps k

After hugging me as I walked through the front door, six-year-old Gigi said, "Mom said you were sad because your friend has cancer." Me: "I'm upset, but I felt better when you hugged me." Gigi's visiting friend: "Am I going to die of cancer?" Me: "No, you don't have cancer and are not going to die. I know it's scary to hear someone is very ill, but you're young and healthy." Gigi: "Only 1% of people with cancer die. They get better if they take the medication the doctor gives them. If they take drugs that aren't prescribed by a doctor, they die." Me: "Okay, that sounds about right." (When I relayed this story to Marcy, Gigi's mother, she asked, "Well, did you tell them they also needed to eat their vegetables?")

Sometimes it feels as if your heart is being chipped away, piece by piece. Your next-door neighbor is in the final stages of cancer that she’s battled for nine years. Her partner recently died the same night she was taken by ambulance to the hospital while her beloved dog desperately cried for her at night. Your lifelong friend, who is more like a sister, is doing everything she can to will her son to recover after he experienced a massive stroke. She keeps telling you she'd rather take his place while you silently cry because you have to be strong for her. Your mind keeps flashing back to the many Thanksgivings you spent with them, and you relish the memory of being called “Aunt Dana.” One of your close friends is in the hospital and recently learned that she has tumors everywhere. You stand by her bedside and share in her sorrow while you both know that the road ahead is full of potholes and gigantic boulders, and all we have is this moment together. It's times like this w