Rushing's Ramblings

  Isn’t it funny how life comes full circle sometimes unexpectedly? It’s almost as if the world was topsy turvy many years ago, then straightened itself at the last moment to ensure a smoother exit. I grew up in a tiny town where our fathers worked for a petroleum company. All the children attended the same small school for 12 years, with the majority leaving for college shortly after graduation. We knew children older and younger than us because frequently, they were our classmates’ siblings. We even knew to which family a dog walking down the street belonged, even if the pet was many blocks away from their yard. Most dogs were mutts; our parents wouldn’t dream of wasting money on purebred dogs. I only learned in the last few years that our families were poor. While I was surprised to get the news, it doesn’t matter. All I wanted was to leave home and the town as fast as possible to begin the adventures I only dreamed about as a child. My hometown only exists as a memory, as t

  Sometimes, you’re at the right place and time for someone else. You don’t know it’s coming, but you’re glad you were there for them. Two of us sat in the dog park, watching our dogs interact and enjoying the cooler evening after an unseasonably hot October day. Our pets are some of the best parts of us, so sharing the evening with them was infinitely more fun than watching TV. Jeff, a new, friendly fellow resident, entered the dog park with his big, beautiful dog that Paddy especially likes. Paddy was so thrilled that he started zooming around the dogs in the park. One would never guess that Paddy was eleven, but our early morning walks over the years are paying off. As we laughed at Paddy’s shenanigans, I asked Jeff how their house was coming along that was being built in a nearby town. He grinned while telling us how fast it was being constructed and how excited they were about their new pool and spa. Jeff’s father lives in one of our apartments and enjoys spending four hours

  Okay, I have a name for the unhappy ladies who are original Geezer Apartments/Fallingbrick residents. They have never stopped complaining for the 14 months I've lived here, and I'm confident the year before my arrival. Three of them are the worst, and while I like them for the most part, their endless griping bothers me. I often avoid them, but they complain about management or the building when I’m around them for two seconds. How do I attract such nonsense? One of them, who lives two doors down, knocked on my door yesterday. She loves Paddy and even took care of him once. Years ago, she taught with one of my beloved childhood buddies. I’ve suggested at least twice that she move since she’s miserable living here, but her excuse is that her friends are here. I responded that they all need to move since they seem fixated on anything and everything that goes wrong, no matter how minor. That didn’t stop her. I’ve seen her several times since then, including last night, an

  Sometimes, you’re having a challenging day and the phone rings. It’s a close friend of almost seven decades who is more like a sister. My friend, Brenda, has had a terribly rough year, with one son having a serious stroke and one son experiencing severe PTSD from serving in the military. Her mother died last week after living for many years with dementia. To top all that off, the house she shares with her husband of 50 years flooded, and they had to live in a hotel for four months. Although I have phoned her several times since May, she didn’t return my calls. I figured it was something I said that upset her. But, as usual, it’s rarely about us when someone is upset. We don’t always know what caused the ghosting, so jumping to conclusions and internalizing seems logical at the time. Brenda and I have assertive personalities and always speak our truth, even when our assertiveness intimidates others. Most people don’t want to hear the truth. Some are easily offended, even if they’

  My dad had already been in the Pacific for three long years when his ship headed to Japan for a last-ditch effort to end the war with Japan in 1945. Our troops were full of confidence that the end of fighting was near because Germany had surrendered a few months earlier. Still, Japan continued to fly their planes into our ships and hide in the mountainous areas of the Pacific Islands. In the final years of my dad’s life, he frequently talked about his experiences during WWII. It was almost as if this was the most crucial period of his life, and parts of it must have been the most frightening. Dad joined the Army a few months after the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor. He turned 18 and was several months shy of graduating from high school. Many young men, with a heightened sense of patriotism mixed with anger, did the same during the war and were awarded a high school diploma anyway. After basic training, he was shipped to the Pacific. Many of our troops were dying or becoming incap

  I met her after begging a friend who had a friend working in the Carter Administration to arrange a private tour of the White House in the late 70s. Little did I know the tour would include a brief meeting with Rosalynn Carter. She was gracious, gentle, and warm and had the tiniest hands imaginable when she took my hand into hers. What was most remarkable about her was her interest in me, even though I was a politically star-struck girl in her mid-20s, pretending to be sophisticated and knowledgeable. Looking back, I realize I knew nothing and was lucky to be in such a formidable company. I followed the trajectory of the Carters after they left the White House. Jimmy Carter is the best former President we've ever had. He doesn't take credit for anything he's accomplished without acknowledging his wife, Rosalynn. Their work with Habitat for Humanity is well known, including driving nails, painting, and roofing projects as recently as a few years ago. Their lives we

  I like to surround myself with people who want to make a difference in other people’s lives. It’s sometimes difficult for me to have patience with people who have petty grievances or are absorbed in self-pity and can’t get out of their heads to help others. I love action-oriented people; it doesn’t have to be anything significant… just do it; volunteer or get involved! It's been proven to be therapeutic for those suffering from depression to volunteer. And, even though I'm not depressed, I always feel better when I'm doing something for someone else. Not everyone at the Fallingbricks/Geezer Apartments spends their days focused on what doesn’t suit them about living here. Good people are living here who help those in need, whether bringing food to those staying in their apartment due to illness, driving someone to doctor’s appointments, or inviting others to lunch. We have advancing age in common, and it doesn’t take much for us to need assistance. Most of us aren’t

  My friend, Sharon Flinn Blythe , invited me to be her guest at the Ann Richards School Foundation luncheon today. Sharon is a member of the Governor's Council, and her granddaughter is a student at the school. Sharon and I are from a little Panhandle town named Phillips, which no longer exists, so those of us who graduated from our excellent but long-gone school are firmly bonded. Sharon is a CPA and an Austin activist. It was an honor that she chose me to be her guest today. Former Governor Ann Richards envisioned a school for young women from economically disadvantaged backgrounds to give them the skills and confidence necessary to pursue a college education, many of whom will be the first in their families to obtain a college degree. The Ann Richards School for Young Women Leaders is now one of the best public schools in the nation. Ann would be proud of the over 900 students who've graduated since 2012 and now lead successful lives. We heard from senior students wh

Since moving here 18 months ago, I’ve renamed my apartment community several times. The original name (and still the legal one) is ArborView. It is an apartment building for “active adults” over age 62. The term “active” is a bit of a misnomer in that more than a few residents live most of their entire lives within the building, with an equal number who never venture outside their apartments. I digress, though. My first name change for the building was the “Geezer Apartments.” I’ve written about the comings and goings of this place ever since I arrived. Mostly, I attempted to find humor in what others view as horrible happenings with the building, management, and other residents. This summer, a resident noticed bricks loosening on the façade of the building. (He was a bona fide “active adult” who ventured outside the complex frequently and recently moved into a house with his wife.) Of course, the bricks about to fall were above my patio and small yard, where I always exited and

When you're an older grandmother with young grandchildren, you closely watch them and imagine their lives after you're long gone. My seven-year-old granddaughter, Gigi, is one of those children who has it all. Gigi is intelligent and beautiful, but most importantly, she’s kind. Gigi accompanied me to a Rotary Club brunch last Saturday. She has participated with me twice in a Rotary service project that involved making sandwiches for those who are homeless. Gigi loves making the sandwiches and has become an expert sandwich maker. I never had to persuade her to participate in the project. Gigi happily agreed the first time she was asked. The brunch on Saturday was held at Diane’s stunning house, sitting high on a hill with a gorgeous swimming pool on the lower level of the backyard. Gigi made friends with a large, sweet, pit-bull-mix dog roaming inside the house. Next to the pool was a huge, white, fluffy Great Pyrenees lying on his side. Gigi received permission from the

    It’s the 2023 Christmas season, and I can’t help but have flashbacks of my childhood—a childhood filled with very few fond memories.    I was the middle child and the only girl in a family that never should have existed. My father was a bully and physically abusive, doling out punishment with a belt for the slightest infraction of whatever rules he deemed we disregarded. It could even be a look I gave him, which would be met with the heel of his shoe slammed in my face.  I developed the art of dissociation while I was being hit repeatedly.  I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he was hurting me, and my mind went elsewhere.  Rather than stop, he continued until he became too tired to flail at me. During my teen years, I constantly imagined being beautiful and happy while living a different life with a loving family. Dissociation saved me.   My mother silently sat by while this abuse was happening and never comforted any of us after the beatings.  She later explained that