This Reminds Me

Archive for January, 2006

My boss Sharon and friend Aimee organized an office surprise party for me this morning attended by a dozen folks in person and several far-flung AT&T’ers via conference call.  Cake for breakfast – what’s not to like?

Remember when I blogged “presence” was more important than “presents?” Okay, well, so, I might have had a brief moment of – ummm – rethought.  Because the group gave me the most beautiful snow globe I’ve ever seen – Tinker Bell with spiraling sparkly dust suspended in a gold water lily, celebrating her 50th birthday in 2003.

As Rachel said, “Mom!  It’s Tink!  She’s 50!  It’s a snow globe!  It’s one of Daddy’s water lillies!  It’s sooooo ‘you!’”

Transporting it home on the bus raised my possessiveness to new heights.  I had Tink wrapped in T-shirts and stuffed in a basket, with tissue paper jammed in every crevice.  I eyed every other rider who approached our bench with unmasked hostility – Step back!  Step away from the Tinker Bell! The guy sitting behind us probably thought I needed to go through a metal detector and a shoe check.  Tink and I both made it home safely (whew!)

So my birthday was today.  But there’s a more important birthday tomorrow, February 1.  It belongs to a little girl living in an orphanage in St. Petersburg, Russia who will be six years old.  Right now, she has no idea we exist.  But Keith and I are leaving Saturday, February 11, to meet her the following week.   When I first “met” Rachel, Lois and Hannah, my hair was matted, my legs unshaven and my lungs were strained from bellowing for the epidural.  I plan to be a bit more composed when we meet “Little A,” as we’ve called her these (looonnngggg) 18 months.

Tinker Bell – she’s magic.  And so is the opportunity to grow a family.  So wish us well as we fly, fly, fly toward St. Petersburg on February 11.  No aerial wires peeking out on a stage.  Just the tie that binds in our hearts.

Keith and I are now bus riders.  We are They Who Ride the Bus.

I would like to say we are riding the VIA bus 20 mi. downtown every morning because the idea occured to us in a flash of environmental brilliance at our last “Save The Whales*” conference, or when we huddled around a campfire, whining “Kumbaya” with the Sierra Club.  Alas, our motivations are economic.  We’re saving $40/month in parking, $6 – $9 daily in gasoline plus vehicle depreciation – all for the cost of two $20 bus passes we can buy with pre-tax dollars, plus, of course, we’re throwing in a bucket of flexibility.

All Aboard the #6 Express At O’Dark:30

Rachel – never one to confuse frugality with fashion – sniffed to a group of her church friends that her parents rode the bus, “just like ghetto people.”

While we joggle down 281 toward the mighty McCullough towers, I mostly read novels, or sleep, or listen to my Rio.  Keith mostly huddles behind the paper, shuffles through work stuff, or – if he doesn’t have something interesting to peruse - tries to keep me from reading.

We’ve ridden for about two months, and I’m now branding many of our fellow passengers.  There’s “Bosomy Blonde Woman with the Starbucks” who always boards before us.  She’s generally across from “Hospital Worker with Blue Sweater Who Sleeps.”   Always sitting ramrod straight by the back door, there’s “Secretary with Hair Bun and Tote Bag.”  Lately we’ve been enjoying – or at least hearing – the rather loud one-way conversations of “Mr. Grew Up in San Antonio And Knows Everything About Everything.”

So I wonder – how would our fellow riders brand Keith?  “Wookie With the Paper?”  Or, “AT&T Man Who Mumbles Over Drawings?”  And what about me?  “Gray Woman Dragging Jingly Laptop Bag?”  Or, “Crazy Woman Who Audibly Corrects Billboard Grammar?”

I dunno.  But since I wear a cross around my neck most days, maybe I should think about that.   I’m supposed to be Jesus with skin on.   What would Jesus ride?  I think he might ride VIA, too.  But he wouldn’t hog the seat next to him with his purse and he wouldn’t silently curse at the Quarry slowdown.

Gabriel the Angelic Afternoon Driver Says, “Move on Back”

The wheels on the bus go round and round.  The baby on the bus says “Wah wah wah.”  The mommy on the bus says “Shhh sshhh sshhh.”  The horn on the bus goes “beep beep beep.”  And however you get to work – have a safe safe week.

*  We are trying to save the whales, though.  We want to collect the whole set.

My sister Judy and (brilliant) niece Sarah feted me with a truly delightful early birthday party in Houston on Saturday afternoon.  My real 50th isn’t until 1/31, but this (long holiday) weekend was a great time for a party in the large parlor at our old church, Westbury Baptist.

Sarah hired a professional photographer; I asked Rachel to take pictures also so I could blog about them quickly.  After we returned home on Sunday, I discovered her pictures were of herself and her goofy friends messing around in the church baptistery.  Imagine my delight at this discovery of evidence of their deeply spiritual interests.  I think she was too busy letting a large flight of helium balloons loose in the sanctuary to concrete on her duties; I only hope the colorful spheres drifted to the pews before or after Sabbath worship.

Fortunately – my dear friend Marilyn Dodd pinged me a picture today of the two of us at the party taken on her camera – great, my excuse to blog!  (When I can link to an online album – expect more pictures!)

So maybe I’m no longer her pupil, but she’s still my teacher.

Marilyn tapped me to be yearbook editor of the all new and quite exciting 1974 Mariner at Madison High School in Houston.  She invested herself in me, and I will always be grateful.  The writing, editorial and photography experience led to more responsibility at Remco TV Rental (college job) which led to employment with AT&T in 1979…well, you get the picture.

Speaking of yearebooks and pictures – yeah, “Rebecca Hoffman,” bottom right, that’s me…

Mom made photo albums for all three of us when we were kids.  Judy asked me to bring them to display; I happily complied, and – purely coincidentally – spotted this picture of Mom on her 50th birthday, 1/15/71.  Since her 85th birthday would have been yesterday, I thought posting it here was a fine idea.  David and I made her cake.

1/15/71 – Two boxes of icing helped hold the 50 candles together.

I appreciate all the gifts brought for our Samaritan’s Purse boxes next year (and yes, Charlotte, Debbie and Gloria, the unexpected gifts for me, too!)  But really, Saturday wasn’t about “presents.”  It was about “presence.”  The presence of John, who gave blood for Lois and me.  The presence of Mary, Kimothy, B.C., Dennis, Konen and Gaylos, who made Station 90.51 Parkwest the place to Bock’n'Roll.  The presence of Goldie, who let us kids drink Koolaid in her kitchen instead of water from the hose.  The presence of Beth and Lisa and all our babies that shared the nursery, and of Jim & Rosalie, whom my babies rushed to greet.  The presence of Steve & Jo and Dan & Sandi, who were so good to Mom, and Martha, Mario & Ruth, who are so good to our whole family.  It was great to see Patsy and Andy walking in the door, like they did when we were present on O’Meara.  I’d like to have Lisa’s bravery, Lorelei’s hips, Jackie’s smile and Kip’s good sense – but Saturday, I was just happy to bask in their presence.

Thank you, Judy and Sarah, but one very special day.

Birthdays.  They’re about presence.  Because life is the gift.

Keith is standing in the bog, which is several feet from the pond.

What is that big black thing?

If you guessed “giant slip and slide” – I sure hope you’re wrong.

Keith – assisted by good friends Dan, Brett, Rick and brother Byron – laid the 500 lb. waterproof pond liner today, a crucial new chapter in the saga of “A Man and His Pond.” He paid them in brisket, ribs, beans and pecan pie – certain small (though tasty!) recompense for lugging the equivalent weight and texture of hundreds of deflated inner tubes across baked limestone.

He had one other friend from church help him one day last year.  Other than this assistance – he’s done it all himself, even with a nail through his hand, even with his knee in a brace. No Bobcat, no electric jack hammer, no dynamite (shudder) – just a cement saw, hammers, picks, buckets and lots of elbow grease effecting his vision in the limestone.

Stay tuned to this blog for the next installment of “A Man and His Pond.”  I’m thinking we’re getting close to it being a wet one.