Nostalgia's Not What It Used To Be

 

Nostalgia, it's not nearly as awesome as it used to be. Very punny. Yet, recently I took a trip in my time machine back to 1963 and drove by the home I was raised in from 0 years old to 9th grade (approx). Good ole Lawler Rd in Garland, Tx. With no kids in my time machine asking if we are there yet, I was able to take my time and peek into the world of what-used-to-be. Somehow, I was convinced that there's no way the old neighborhood I grew up in would still be there. It's well over 50 years old, and I was certain it had been demolished. I just knew it. There's no way those houses are still there and I wonder what is there now?

Guess what! Those houses are still there, people are living in them, and they look great.

I think it used to be red bricked. Looks good painted!

I remember many things about living on Lawler Rd in Garland. Like walking up to the elementary school when you could actually walk to school and it's what people did. That, or biked. There was no school line for drop off. We walked to school and did so with friends. Boys pulled the girls bra straps on their backs and popped them and would laugh and laugh. The girls felt like that was a sign that a particular boy liked her. Somehow this was okay. We did not carry big backpacks because all the textbooks were kept at school most of the time. We had encyclopedia's at the house to use for research. We felt very extravagant to have them at the house, and I still remember the encyclopedia salesman ringing the doorbell and coming into our home. The salesman would be dressed in a suit and tie carrying a hard sided briefcase full of brochures and examples of his product. My mom and dad would sit at the kitchen table and listen to his spill. Sometimes, he would go get different books from his car to bring in and show other examples. I was always struck by how much he had to carry around in his car, like the resource dept in a library, just on-wheels. I only remember having 2 sets, well maybe 3 sets over the years, and remember how updated each set would be from the last. I'd sit on the floor and flip through the new set, trying to find my favorite pictures and topics, to see if they were still there and if they changed any. I don't think door to door encyclopedia salesman is an occupation any more. 

I remember feeling like there were a few special houses in the neighborhood that had huge backyards due to their location in the neighborhood. Ours was one of those. It felt like our backyard was as big as a football field. We even had soccer practice held regularly in the backity far back of our backyard for whatever team we were on at the time. Usually Dad was Coach, so it made sense and there was lots of room for drills. There was a chain link fence around the entire thing. In the part of the backyard closer to the house, Dad would plant any kind of fruit tree imaginable. It felt a bit like an orchard. Peach trees, fig trees (lots of fig trees), pear trees along with grapevines and rose bushes. I remember picking figs and peaches from the trees, putting them in paper grocery bags (no such thing as plastic grocery bags yet) and my sisters and I would sit out front and sell the bags of fruit for cheap. Our house was on the corner of Lawler Rd and Plano Rd and since Plano Rd was considered a big road and had more traffic, we always had lots of buyers for the fresh fruit. 

Hard to realize that was the big backyard 
with a chain link fence around it.

Now though, that big backyard has a church built on it, that actually attaches to my old house with an awning. I'm not sure how zoning works for that, but they did it. It had a sign that said Good News Church. They even had a church van, too. So instead of a back yard, there's now a church behind the house I grew up in. I would never had guessed that. I mean, after all, I didn't even know if the houses were still going to be there.....much less a church in the back yard. That gives the ole saying 'cash me outback how bout dah' a whole new meaning. 

Forestridge Elementary, where it all started

Ahhh, the days of walking to school. Picking up friends along the way at their houses. First, Angie Vervalin. Then, Debbie Milliken and sometimes Beth Turner. Beth Turner's dad worked for Dr Pepper, and had an actual Dr Pepper soda machine in their kitchen just like at the 7-11. I thought they were rich. When we got to the school, we would not go inside. We lined up. We waited in line until we were allowed to go inside the school. We would line up either by grade or by teacher, but I assure you we were well instructed on where and how to line up. Some teacher or someone in charge had a whistle and would blow it like a lifeguard at the pool to keep all the children in line. A whistle was respected. Once a person of authority had to raise their voice, everyone was in do-do trouble. And the troublemakers were well known, because as little boys and girls we were expected to 'be good and do as we were told'. Looking back, those troublemakers were probably the smartest ones of all. They pushed back against authority who told them to line up and be like everyone else. Not everyone wants to be put in a box, and there were always those who were the real rebels in life. Too bad they were looked upon as troublemakers rather than creative thinkers just trying to live their own life. They were not to be stifled. They held strong and were constantly reprimanded by the teachers for not listening and behaving. The troublemakers did not care though. They are probably the CEO of Amazon or founders of budding startups now. Go them.

The joys of junior high

Then the awkward days began. Jr high. Ugh. I'm having flashbacks just thinking about it. Everyone was in the process of 'becoming' who they were to be, and junior high is not a kind place to be when you're becoming yourself. To make things worse, there were the golden ones to remind you just how awkward you were. The golden ones were not like all the others. They were already on top of their game at such a young age. Most of the junior high was convinced that the golden ones were already having sex, too. I remember that being a topic at the lunch table. Yes, in junior high. I mean, everyone knew who was golden. It was obvious. But most of us were un-golden. We were the ones who were between trying-to-grow-up and trying-to-be-grown-up and forever fumbling while doing so. I was never so glad to get out of junior high and go to high school. Junior high was just a hard time in life. Still is actually, but we call them middle schoolers now. Stay awkward you guys. You'll get there. Luckily, most of us escape middle school to be ridiculed some more in high school. It's just not as bad there, and you've increased your coping skills enough to handle it all a little better.

Luckily, I did get to leave good ole Liberty Junior High and that's when we also left our house on Lawler Rd. We would be moving to a much bigger house on Longbow Dr in Garland. 

I remember my dad planting these crêpe myrtles.

No more Angie, Debbie or Beth just down the street anymore. No more walking to school, as we had continued to walk to junior high every day, as we had elementary school. The move to Longbow Dr would be at a time when I was entering 9th grade (which was high school then). I would make new friends in the area, have a room to myself, fight with my sisters more about clothes and things. Lots of new things happening and I was still just trying to navigate life. Oddly, I had a pet dove in my room who coo'd all the time, and I always wanted pets. So many pets please. Mom said No. She said she already had enough people to take care of and was a strong women who could put her foot down. You could try to argue your case, but you'd likely end up grounded. Oh yeah, grounded. That was the story of my life in high school. I was always grounded. In my room. Grounded for a week. For a weekend. For like 4 years straight in high school. Looking back, I think that was my mom's way of keeping us safe and keeping an close eye on us. We were forever grounded. I got so sick of being grounded that I ran away, and when I came back (the next day) I was forever grounded again. I threw in the towel and waited out time to go to college. My mom was probably just as excited when I left for college. No more keeping track of me. At college, my mom and dad would call me on Sundays at the same time each week after church. No cellphones of course. They would find out a weekly check if I was still alive and well. After all, it was a long distance call and charged as such, so we spoke briefly to keep the costs down.

I did not take a photo of the high school I attended, Berkner High School. There, I was part of the fighting Ram Band, a BQ as it was called back then. We were proud, too. I was in the Drum Corp and that - along with advanced math classes (because in math there is always a way to find the answer) I remained sane enough to make it through and head to Texas A&M from there. Let's just say that it took a long time for me to grow up and I'm still working on it today. I'll leave it at that. The good news in all this was that the exception to being grounded was that I could still go to band practice - and school. So there was that. 

As I drove around the Garland area, I remembered my mom wanting us to live in Garland but go to Richardson schools. And somehow she found the neighborhoods whereby we could do that. At the time, Garland schools had a passing grade of 60, and Richardson had a higher standard of a passing grade of 70. I think my mom felt like having us in Richardson schools would somehow help us push ourselves more because the grade scale was harder there. Regardless, us 3 red-headed girls never would really need to worry much about getting a 60 or 70 in any class anyway because we would probably lose our lives if that happened. 

When I arrived back home in my time machine, I realized how nervous I had been about going back to my old neighborhood(s) I grew up in. Garland is not all that far from where I live anyway. I have just never made the trek there since I can remember. While driving there, I felt tension and nervousness in my body. What would it be like? How would I feel? Turns out, it would be comforting. And I would feel that I was glad I went. Everything's changed around there now. New businesses, although I did see Steve Hendrick's dads Donut Shop still there. I don't think he's still running it though. So many new food and grocery store options. I could see how someone would like living there. It's nice there. Despite the fact I was convinced it would somehow be gone. It was there. It was thriving - and it was a wonderful trip down Nostalgia Lane. I'd do it again. I don't think I will wait so long to go back next time. Turns out, nostalgia's what it used to be.

Hogwash

Because I can, I thought it would be a good idea to get a couple of mini piglets. 

Magnolia and Priscilla 

Why, you ask? That's the most common question I've gotten lately. It all stemmed from a conversation with a friend who was rehoming quite a few of her farm animals, and said to me, "I'm definitely going to keep my pigs though". Really now. She's keeping her pigs. That one comment made a huge impression on me and I sat on it for quite some time. Then, a visit to Craigslist showed me a couple of piglets calling my name. One who happened to be a black 6 week old mini pig in Van Alstyne. David was in Houston at MD Anderson having his scans completed and seeing doctors. I was buying piglets. 

Prissy

Initially I named her Rebecca. Turns out David preferred to name her Priscilla. Prissy for short. Done. She's tiny but mighty. Don't let her size fool you. And pigs are smart. They are like dogs. They can come when called, learn their name and get the zoomies. Who knew.

When I went to get Prissy's roommate the next day in Sherman, turns out she’s 6 months old. The size difference was incredible. 

Maggie

David named her Magnolia, Maggie for short. Yes, he named them while he was in Houston. It seemed like the fair thing to do. I buy them, he names them. Prissy and Maggie. 

She’s a typical little sister 

Turns out Prissy was SO excited to see Maggie. And they do very well together, sharing food and snuggles. 

Prissy instantly loved Maggie and they have been partners in crime since. Did I mention how smart they are? They have a piggy salad in the mornings, and their pig grain in the evenings. Currently, they are in a fenced area, but eventually, I'd like to let them free range like we do with the chickens (once they get a little bigger) and then pen them at night. We'll see what happens. This is all so new. I mean, when I pick one of them up they cry and squeal like I was gonna have them for dinner. Turns out pigs don't like to be held. It's something they would have to get used to it and you can practice it with them. Ultimately, I don’t think pigs are held as adults. But I’m still new to this pig thing. 

He’s not completely convinced about this.

So far so good on the pig front. They make a wonderful addition around here. They are easy. And Easy St is one of my favorite places to be when it comes to farm animals. And baby farm animals are the best.

MDA and I don't mean the telethon

'Member that?! Jerry Lewis and the MDA telethon each year? As fun as that is to reminisce, I'm actually speaking about David's recent return to MD Anderson in Houston. Living scan to scan is life with cancer. It's what we do. David is scan to scan and I'm actually lab to lab. Either way, we both had our oncologist visits, scans and labs. 

I'll start with David. He had his usual 2-3 month PET scan and MRI. Then, he sees his radiation and chemo oncologist and medical oncologist as well. They read his scans and reviewed his labs. They help him with his side effects that linger from cancer treatment. They discuss options for his thyroid damage from radiation. They review his sinuses and thickening of the lining that has occurred. They are there to guide, review, and assist in David's ongoing cancer journey. SNUC will sneak up on you if you're not looking. Turns out, David's PET showed a clear scan. We are elated! Thank you, God. They remind us that micro particles do not show on scans, so we must keep doing the PET and MRI's every 2-3 months. And he will, no problem. For now though, another visit completed and moving on with life again. Hip Hip Hooray! We try hard not to take this for granted. It feels good.

Then it was my turn. I had my usual labs and visited with my oncologist. My numbers were not that great, and typically a phlebotomy would be indicated and completed that same day. But not that day. Why? Because my oncologist knows I have a life and is my biggest medical cheerleader for my Ironman triathlon training. He asked when my next races are. He asks how I'm feeling. He knows if he draws blood off me, my iron count will start to plummet again, and I'll begin to feel more fatigued. So we make an agreement. He'll allow me to not have a phlebotomy so that I can keep my numbers in a range that I feel like I can continue training for a long distance triathlon and still be monitored and watched. My oncologist knows that some of my numbers that are off can stay that way in the short term, while I realize my dream of a couple (2) of Ironman races in the next 8 months. He records this information in my chart, and gives me grace by allowing me to feel the best that I'm able to feel. Taking blood away, then giving iron back is a rollercoaster. He knows it. I know it. My oncologist wants me to be able to race triathlons and running races just as much as I do. He's amazing. My own medical cheerleader making special (safe) situations happen so that I can feel as good as possible. It doesn't get better than that. Just because I have cancer doesn't mean I don't have dreams that I want to realize and live out. He's on Team Cyndi. Thank you, Dr Athar. I couldn't do this without you. Really. I couldn't. Again, I thank God for David's and I's healthcare teams. They allow us to keep living life, dreaming, and realizing our dreams - cancer and all. I have to remind myself  'I Am Worthy'. It just seems so overwhelming to me sometimes that I have this opportunity. It's these opportunities that I will not let pass me by, as they are given and I am grateful to receive them. When I'm training, I push hard for all the people who can't. 

Who else is in training..... 

As our sweet grandson, Brooks stands freely, walks along the edge of the couch or other objects, we also find ourselves in awe of God's grace. Brooks will be walking soon. He's training right now, moving upright along anything he can get his hands on. He stands often and as much as possible. He's practicing and training for that first step on his own. It won't be long now. Because you know what happens after he walks......he runs. 

Loving the whipped cream Pops made. 

We celebrated both Ryan’s and Lauren’s birthday and Brooks was all about the treats, which is not normally in his daily diet. But we are at Nana’s, and the rule is Dessert First. And sometimes, a balloon is fun and scary at the same time. 

Stay wild,

Cyndi