Rushing's Ramblings

We don't plan perfect days; they just happen serendipitously. A friend's phone call came as I wondered what I might do on Sunday. He asked if I'd like to ride on the back of his Harley to see the bluebonnets and have lunch at Alamos Springs Cafe near Fredericksburg. I answered affirmatively without hesitation, although getting to sleep was a little more complicated than usual after our conversation. I was excited while imagining at the same time all the terrible things that could occur. As I let my mind drift where it had no business going, I wondered how badly it might hurt before I took my last breath should we hit a deer or a car. I once owned a Yamaha Enduro motorcycle, which wasn't much good on or off the road. My preference was to ride on the back of my ex-husband's powerful Kawasaki. I gave up motorcycles for many years when I became pregnant with my daughter almost four decades ago. I again climbed on the back of a bike about 10 years ago in South F...

As an avid reader, I often totally immerse myself in a book. I rarely read a book that touches me so profoundly that my heart races a little faster as the author's words and pages fly past at breakneck speed. If the writer doesn't appeal to me intellectually or emotionally, I'll set it aside for a day that never seems to come. I recently finished reading  The Line Becomes a River  by Francisco Cantu. Cantu wrote about his experiences as a former border agent. I witnessed activity at the border a few months ago and will again in a few weeks. Still, my perspective is entirely different from someone who worked in an official capacity for the United States government.  Cantu references Carl Jung in his book to explain his behavior as a border agent and his colleagues' actions while performing their duties. Jung was quoted as describing the political climate during the cold war. "It has become a political and social duty to perceive the other as the very devil, to fasc...

On the day I was discharged from the hospital after giving birth to a big, beautiful baby girl almost forty years ago, the doctor asked me if I wanted the good or bad news first. I told him to always lead with his best information. The good news was that I had birthed a healthy baby. The bad news was a cancer diagnosis. The prognosis was potentially bleak, but he felt I would have a better chance of living longer if I never had another baby. I suffered from severe depression for a few months after Marcy was born. Part of the abject sadness was due to sleep deprivation, but a massive amount of me was grieving about the possibility I would never see my baby girl grow up. I tried to imagine scenes like her first time riding on a tricycle as if imagining it would substitute for not living long enough to see it, but tears kept getting in the way of projecting into an uncertain future. I had excellent care from Baylor Hospital in Dallas for approximately ten years after the initial ...

I didn't want to leave my warm house and go for our daily walk on a frigid, windy day. The temperature was hovering around 34 degrees when Paddy, a docile 18-pound golden doodle, and I headed out the door. If anyone spied on me during our walk, they probably thought they saw the abominable red snowman. I chose a coat I wore six years ago during a trip to Antarctica. I never dreamed I'd wear it again. We like to walk the hills near the Horseshoe Bay airport. There are few houses on the airport side where we walk and lots of empty ranchland just beyond a long, broken barbed wire fence. As we strolled down a hill, we spotted a small herd of deer racing along an almost dried-out creek. Paddy suddenly seemed more alert than usual. I figured he was distracted by the sight and sound of running deer. I didn't have to wonder long about Paddy's behavior before I spotted what I thought was a mountain lion, then two mountain lions. As the animals got closer, I realized the...

Cohen will testify today that Trump is a liar and cheat. Despite clear evidence of Trump's crimes, Trump and his mobsters will call Cohen a liar. Trump's brainwashed base will believe Trump. Folks, those people are lost. I do not bother engaging with any supporter of the lying mobster-in-chief. Those who support him are easily led by hucksters and false prophets who claim "God sent Trump to be President." (What absolute drivel--I can hear marbles rattling around in the heads of people who buy that outrageous statement.) Others support him because he's their "useful idiot," i.e., tax breaks for the wealthy. Ironically, none of those supporters are in the top 1%! The Republicans in Congress support him because they are in bed with Russian money via NRA through campaign contributions. They won't investigate Trump, and they won't pass any gun laws. Trump appeals to the Evangelicals/Anti-choice people because he's appointed judges to court...

If you live your life believing in the possibility that some new adventure might be waiting for you just beyond your front door, you'll never be disappointed. An adventuresome spirit has a way of turning the most mundane afternoon into something unforgettable. Sometimes, when you're in the middle of doing something entirely ordinary, you encounter someone extraordinary.  Most of us have experienced the unpleasant task of trading vehicles. It's a tedious process that tries my rapidly vanishing patience. I have kept my beloved Prius for seven years, a gift from a loved one who died two years ago. Besides, everyone knows that an SUV or a truck is a must in the Texas Hill Country! After realizing that any repair requiring the nearest Toyota dealership would mean an all-day ordeal of driving and waiting, I decided to trade it for an American SUV from a dealership in Marble Falls. I was kicking tires and looking in the windows of SUVs when Robin approached me. She was ...

Oral family history can sometimes be repeated often enough that you find yourself passing on family lore without fact-checking, especially if it's a juicy story. My mother's middle name is Belle. Mother was told that she was named after Belle Starr, a friend of her aunt's. While writing this story, I asked Mother why her middle name was Belle one more time. Again, she repeated the story about Belle and her great aunt's friendship. I always loved her name, although she has always disliked it because of Belle's outlaw reputation. Belle Starr embodied a strong, pistol-packing mama who marched to her own drum.   Research reveals a person who was only slightly out of the ordinary. Belle was born Myra Maybelle Shirley in Missouri in 1848 and was called May by her family. Her parents were prosperous and sent May to the finest schools. When Union soldiers at the beginning of the Civil War destroyed their business in the town of Carthage, the family fled to Texa...