What Are You Doing in Texas?

About an hour after sunset, we were driving eastward on I-20 in Harrison County, Texas. The posted speed limit is 70 miles per hour during the day and 65 at night. I was driving about 64. The highway had been generously staffed by state troopers and sheriff’s deputies on a Saturday afternoon and evening, and who needed the hassle? I saw the rotating lights of a police car rushing up behind me and I thought, “Ha. He got somebody.” But he stayed behind me. What?! He’s pulling ME over? Yes, he is.
Dutifully, I found an exit ramp and a wide shoulder, stopped and awaited my fate. A state trooper creeped up to the passenger side of my car and freaked out my wife by tapping on her window.



He asked for “the license for the driver,” which I thought was an odd way to put it; but we quickly produced my license, plus the car registration and proof of insurance. The young trooper sized up the middle-aged couple he was detaining and quickly took on a friendly demeanor. He told me he pulled me over because I had changed lanes without using a turn signal.
Later, he admitted he was amused by “the look of shock” on my face. I told him as we laughed that I wasn’t shocked at why he pulled me over; I was shocked because this kind of thing had happened to me several times in Texas and I had never gotten a ticket.
I told him I understood what he was doing, but I just had to know what it is about a middle aged white guy in a black SUV that compels law enforcement officers of all levels in Texas to find a lame excuse to pull me over. He admitted I was driving “too carefully,” if you can believe that. I guess all the drug mules on the interstates and federal highways try really hard to follow the letter of the traffic laws. He also said he noticed out of state plates. This made no sense to me, since we were in a county contiguous to Louisiana, but okay.
We told the trooper we appreciated what he was doing as we wished him well and advised him to be careful. Then, he asked the question I’ve been asked by county cops, municipal officers, and now a state trooper: “What are you doing in Texas?” Here I must admit that part of my brain always wants to say, “It’s none of your business what I’m doing in Texas and as far as I know I can drive through any state in the U.S. without have to declare my intentions to law enforcement, a**hole.” But, obviously I wouldn’t do that. He was a very nice young guy just doing a job and I truly do wish him well. I want him to catch the bad guys. Still, part of me worries about the slippery slope of being asked that kind of question. I mean, I don’t think he was making small talk. As much as I travel in Texas, It’s a virtual certainty I will get pulled over again for some minor violation. When asked, I will state my business.
The answer, by the way, was “We were hauling supplies to our daughter at TCU.” We did the one-day turnaround to Ft. Worth with all the stuff that would not fit in her car last weekend.



We caught a real break, too. The long string of 100 degree days came to an end.
With an intermittent drizzle and a heavy cloud cover, the temperature did not rise above 85 degrees while we were unloading the suspicious SUV and moving various apartment furnishings into our daughter’s new digs.
She went with us to a great Tex-Mex restaurant where I enthusiastically overate. Later, I actually took a nap in her room while she and her mother did a little organizing. Then, after we had been there about five hours, she was ready for us to go.
The last words she said to me were “Go home, Dad.” This was after we had said our good-byes, but she shouted at me through her window when she spotted me taking photos.
That’s okay. We’ll be back in three weeks or so for the start of football season. We’ll have to drive over again on I-20. Maybe that time I won’t be so careful. I might drive 70!

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The Suddenly Silent Saturday

As expected, the house is disarmingly quiet this afternoon. Our daughter has hit the highway, bound for Dallas-Ft. Worth and another year at TCU. She did a kind of farewell tour, having dinner with her grandmother and her aunt among others on Thursday. Friday was packing day. Today, departure day, the circle got a little tighter. Her brother came over to wish her well.

Her mother, attentive to the last, said “remember the ‘very important box?’ You almost left without it.” The box is essential to her interests, because it contains various electronic devices and their chargers.



Also among those saying a final farewell was, of course, The Girl From Across the Street, who for many years has consistently been close by.
She’s still two weeks or so away from her own departure to Norman, Oklahoma. So at least we have her to look at for a few more days.
A fly-by for a couple of hometown friends was in the works, then it was off to the interstate.
While our daughter was in the shower making final preparations for her departure, my wife finally allowed herself a good, long cry. It’s never easy to witness that, although part of me thinks I might feel a little better if I could somehow make that happen for myself. Too much testosterone, I suppose, for it doesn’t seem to be in the cards.

The one who may miss her the most: The Best Dog Ever, who got to stay in the house all day every day while her friend was here. They also went running together almost every night. So, everybody's routine will be disrupted.



And I can assure you our daughter's 13-year-old cat will mope around in a funk for weeks. I've seen it happen.
The good news is, although her vehicle was packed like a sardine can, there’s still a lot of stuff left to be hauled west.



So, we get to go visit in a few days and check out her new apartment. She has three new roommates this year, hand-picked all. So, it’s shaping up to be a fun sophomore session.
Our low-key summer, which has been dominated by oppressive heat and intensive attention to the e-reader, is about to come to a close. Gas up the car, because we’ll be seeing a lot of Ft. Worth in the weeks ahead.

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Does This Ever Get Easier?

On a blindingly hot August day, our daughter’s summer comes to an end. She’s been busily packing her belongings into her car so she can return to TCU this weekend.
For her, moving day has approached at an achingly slow pace. Her glee at returning to school is scarcely contained. Who can blame her? A Shreveport swelter stands in stark contrast to all of her early summer activities. She spent June eye level with the clouds in a remote part of British Columbia, where she was surrounded by mountains, cold water and newfound friends.

This was following a week in Colorado with a different set of people, all of whom enjoyed a late spring snowstorm.

And there was the trip to Sharp Top in Georgia, where she worked for a week but also took a little time to frolic in the clover with one of her closest friends.



As she hop scotched the continent, she encountered at least two waterfalls.





And somewhere along the way, she made a couple of trips to the Texas hill country, where she spent time with some up and coming young filmmakers and also found her way onto the water.



We are told there was work to be done. She staffed a snack shop or two along the way at summer camps, but certainly found time to put up her feet.



Over the last five years, she has shown a remarkable ability to go solo into new circumstances in new places and make friends. Maybe that’s why her transition to college a year ago seemed to be smoother than most. Wherever she goes, she seems to find a way to surround herself with laughter. What could be better?





And so it has been with a sense of forlorn resignation that my wife and I have watched her hang around the house, knowing well that she is just itching to leave. I know the alternative is less desirable. She’s happy at TCU and that’s priceless. We also know she’s not running away from anything here, but she is in fact running to something there. That’s a wonderful thing.



But when she goes, she takes all that laughter with her and the house seems so quiet. We also realize this was her first college summer, which will probably be her last at home.

I guess we’ll close the door to her bedroom until Thanksgiving, when I think we all can hope the weather will be a little more reasonable.

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Living The Big Life in Texas

We’re fresh from a trip to Ft. Worth, where we began in earnest the process of packing up the contents of our daughter’s dorm room. This is finals week, which means in mere hours her first year of college will be behind her.
For the moment, it’s all business. She has a grade point average to maintain so she can hang onto to her scholarship money, as well as her place in the Honors College. We certainly have no indication there’s trouble afoot, and so there’s plenty to be proud of.
This includes how she has thrown herself into university life outside the classroom. After casting aside a bid to a sorority, she has immersed herself in church-related activities. Several nights a week, it seems from our distant vantage point, she is engaged in some group activity that helps celebrate her faith.
She’s also running the roads seeking her share of secular fun. This included a midweek jaunt south to Austin, where the popular musical group Mumford and Sons was making a whistle-stop on their “Railroad Revival” tour as they made their way to New Orleans’ Jazzfest.

The band and the other two acts involved in the show actually arrived on a train and basically off-loaded in a field next to the tracks for the concert. There were less than 1000 tickets issued for the event, so it had kind of exclusive feel. This also meant pretty much everybody had a great festival-type view.



As we sat together at dinner before dorm-packing day, she was ebullient in her description of the experience. Even though she and her running buddies drove to Austin and back overnight so they wouldn’t miss class, they think it was worth the effort.



They had a great time, got back to Ft. Worth safely and presumably participated in some kind of academic pursuit the following day. I’m not so naïve as to presume they actually went to class.



But, hey, if the GPA is where it’s supposed to be, I can’t complain. She seems to be getting the most out of college, and that’s all a parent can really ask for.

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Invasion of the Pizza Roll Snatchers

At times over the last three days, it seemed that almost every horizontal surface in our house was occupied by a college student. Eighteen of them spent two nights with us, an idea that caused many eyebrows to arch as we told friends and family how many were coming.



It was widely assumed that our daughter lured seventeen friends to town for some kind of party. The purpose of the trip, however, was quite the opposite. They were here on a mission, spending the weekend offering services to homeless people downtown. Most of the missionaries in our group were from TCU, with one from Louisiana Tech and another from Dallas Baptist University mixing in effortlessly. A contingent of LSU students also came to town. They converged with the goal of addressing a few basic needs of the people they encountered. This kind of thing goes on quietly but consistently thanks to an organization called The Hub Urban Ministries. On this particular weekend, The Hub and its volunteers, among many other activities, put together a springtime cookout. The folks from our house also spent time in “the basement,” The hub’s downtown day shelter.



The students were encouraged to be proactive in their outreach, which led them to see some of the ugly underbelly of the city; but when their days’ duties were behind them, they were aglow with a sense of accomplishment. There were varied stories about how their lives were touched and how they hoped that, if only for a moment, they may have made someone else’s life just a little better.



It was remarkable how low-key they were at the house. We had stocked provisions for them. They ate abundantly and gratefully. There was a big breakfast buffet featuring troughs of coffee, vats of fruit salad, silos of cereal, mounds of bacon and me dutifully manning the pancake grill. It was one of the happiest mornings I’ve had in months.



They were serious about their business, but they had their share of fun. Our daughter was the hostess and organizer. She was pleased to show her college friends her hometown, even if the downtown area seems a little sleepy on a Saturday and generally back on its heels. They walked around and goofed around, posing for photos along the way. I’m not sure what was going on, but some of the images look like potential album covers.



They stayed up late, of course and engaged in more of the kind of consumption you would expect from college kids. Sacks of pizza rolls evaporated. Chips and salsa were annihilated and the recycling bin shows evidence of gallons of guzzled soft drinks. But guess what: when they pulled out of the driveway, the kitchen was cleaned up, the rest of the house was in order and there was a thank-you note signed by all of them attached to a bouquet of purple flowers. I told them to come back when they can stay longer. I hope they do.

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Not Really Frozen, Just Kind of Slushy

I would like to say that winter has paralyzed us with its icy grip, but that just wouldn’t be true. The family home is ensconced in ice and a little bit of snow, but my wife and I both worked a full day.



There was no relief from the day-to-day grind for our son, who also found his way to work and had an elevated view of the slick streets.



For the fourth member of our immediate family, things have been completely different. From her vantage point in frosty Ft. Worth, it’s been a weeklong party. With North Texas encased in some kind of ice prison, TCU has canceled classes all week.



From what we’ve been able to discern, she and her running buddies have made the most of their unexpected free time, particularly at night. She reports participating in "the most epic like two hour snowball war" that kept them up until 8:00 a.m.



They are nowhere near stir crazy. I guess with no classes, on-campus college life takes on a camp-like atmosphere. It wouldn't surprise me at all to learn s'mores have been made during the week. Who needs academics when you can engage in winter weather shenanigans?




While I’m actually relieved that the epic winter storm which is gripping much of the nation’s midsection has spared us any real misery, I admit to feeling a little left out. Aside from taking a little longer than usual to get to work and surrendering to the rare impulse to slip some long underwear under the sport coat and slacks, it’s been relatively routine around here.
My wife has spent the week battling a cough, sore throat and red eyes; so I’m keeping my distance from her.



Frankly, I’m a little bored. The roads are on the brink of being treacherous, so it would be borderline reckless to jump in the car to do something frivolous like go to a movie. So, until she feels better we will just exist like roommates sequestered in the mundane. I hope my daughter’s having fun.

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Tick Tock On the Clock In Hollywood

(Hollywood, CA)- If you celebrate New Year’s Eve in Hollywood, you always have to be on the lookout for all types of people who want to help you ring in the New Year. You just never know, for instance, when an international man of mystery may call your wife “Baby-bee” and point his, um, gun at her. You have to stand your ground and brandish your own weapon just to protect your interests.
Also, when you’re standing in line for access to a hot-ticket event, you might run into one of the most respected newsmen in America, even if you had just briefly hung out with him earlier in the day.



A Hollywood party can do this kind of thing for you, I can now tell you from personal experience.



Ringing in the New Year on the west coast has its advantages. If you’ve had a good year, as we did in 2010, then you can squeeze a couple of more hours out of it. The rest of the country and most of the world has already welcomed January 1st, but west coasters are still partying.



We are here to attend the Rose Bowl and are in the company of thousands of TCU Horned Frog fans. The excitement is almost too much for the Frogs to bear. There is hooting and hollering and chanting and Riff-Ramming going on in the halls of the hotel into the early morning hours.
Just before the Big Kissing Moment, members of the TCU band crashed the party and whipped everyone into a froggy frenzy until about 11:59, Texas time.



There was delirium in the ballroom of the Hollywood Renaissance Hotel.



Now, it’s on to the Tournament of Roses Parade, followed quickly by the reason everybody’s here: The Rose Bowl. As has been said countless times over the last couple of days, “Give ‘em hell, TCU."

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Seeing Stars in L.A.

(Los Angeles) - I am not often star struck, but I admit I lost my composure a little bit this afternoon at the TCU Rose Bowl pep rally. I was standing around outside the Staples Center just taking it all in, when I saw a man standing on a planter, rising above the crowd. It was CBS News living legend Bob Schieffer, host of “Face the Nation,” former anchor of the CBS Evening News and TCU alumnus.



How large a figure is Mr. Schieffer at TCU? The journalism school there is the Schieffer School of Journalism. He’s an icon.
For me, it was like seeing one of the Beatles in the 60’s or something. I lost my mind and made a bee line for him. “Mr. Schieffer, would mind if I take a photo with you?” I have been told more than once to be careful if you meet your heroes because they can disappoint you. Not Schieff! He smiled and said “Certainly.” He let me tell him my little story about how I spent a lifetime working in local news and I thanked him enthusiastically. What a highlight for me!



It’s been a strange, “local news” couple of days.
For example, there’s Fritz Coleman. According to the enormous billboard hovering over Hollywood Avenue, he’s a comedian and he’s a weatherman. I’m guessing if you live in southern California, Mr. Coleman is a celebrity. He’s certainly on the local news and apparently he’s a comedian. And a weatherman. And….He’s in an out-of-focus photo with my wife and me!




We underappreciated it at the moment, but grasped it a little more when we saw the billboard.

Meanwhile, back at the pep rally, where a sea of purple flooded Nokia Plaza…



We were minding our own business standing under a statue of Magic Johnson when we saw a familiar face: Gerry May, the anchor at the ABC station back home in Shreveport. He is a huge TCU fan and I knew he would be here, but to be standing within 30 feet of him and his wife was just a crazy coincidence. So, of course we posed for photos.




I know, I know…when you’re in Hollywood, these are not the kinds of celebrities you expect to see. Movie stars, TV stars; who knows you will see? How about The Man of Steel?
I’m still recovering from my close encounter with network news royalty. I need to try to get the stars out of my eyes. Seeing Schieffer was, with respect to my composure, was like being exposed to kryptonite.

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