This Reminds Me

Archive for January, 2010

We’ve had a tough couple of weeks here.  Judy’s husband of 44 years – my brother-in-law Carl – died early Tuesday morning.   I was a nine-year-old bridesmaid in their wedding (to which my dad was late, btw, because he was watching “Divorce Court.”)

David and me with Carl in 1965.

Judy and Sarah have been blanketed with comforting calls and cards, each offering condolences and offers of support.  But to a grief-shocked wife and daughter – at least for now – they’re just words.    And right now, words just aren’t enough.

We lost Carl as the tragedy unfolded Haiti, with more than 100,000 killed.   Every news report – every K-Love special announcement – as I traveled to and from Houston ladled on more buckets of Haitian misery – thousands of falling buildings.  No food, clean water or medical supplies for the hundreds of thousands injured.  And while a still-reasoning reservoir in my mind processed the magnitude of those numbers – I felt no desire to “do something.”   Except pull into my sister’s driveway.

Who and what  matters most are those in your heart.   So as incredible as were those Haitian numbers, they impacted me far less than the one.  Because just like words are sometimes not enough – neither are numbers.

Count your blessings.  Name them one by one.  And go give them big hugs.

We moved to San Antonio from Houston on January 2, 2000 and closed on our house January 12 – an anniversary dear to Keith as he quickly tired of sharing a small motel room with me and daughters ages 8, 6 and 4.    The girls still delight in reminding me the motel had no kids’ TV programming.

When I was told we had to move after having dodged the relo bullet for years, I cried every night for weeks.  Literally.

Lois and Hannah – Christmas 1999 in Houston.  12″ plastic tree on the coffee table; presents on the couch; stocks hung on the mini-blinds.  We let the girls unwrap their gifts Christmas morning – but no un-packaging.  As soon as they unwrapped an item, I placed in it a moving box.  Mean, mean Mom.  Our unpacking in San Antonio on January 13 was quite festive with the new toys, clothes, dolls, etc.

I sobbed when my dear friend Shelley – who had moved to San Antonio years before – called me.  Shelley laughed at me (she’s done that a lot over 33 years) and said, “Dry your ears, dearie.  You’re going to LOVE San Antonio!”

But I.  Did  Not.  Want  To.  Move.  Period.

And yet Keith and I had long cussed, discussed and prayed about our school situation.  We had managed to claw our way into a good elementary school for Rachel and – by legacy – Lois.  But there were no good public middle schools in HISD, and only one good high school, which we had no hope of attending.  What to do?  Should we move to the sticks and endure the commute?  One of us get an evening/weekend job to pay for private school?  Home schooling was certainly “out,” with our being pro-life.

So instead – we moved.  And I am so thankful.  When I think about all the time I spent crying, I laugh at myself.  What an idiot.

In honor of year 2010…and our 10th anniversary in Ole San Antone….here’s my personal “Top 10 Things I Love About San Antonio” list.   If you see this list later in a Chamber of Commerce brochure, remember – you read it here first.

#10  I Love the History

I’ve read that every real Texan’s home is San Antonio.  And why not, with the Alamo, its other missions and rich history?  Teddy Roosevelt gathered the Rough Riders at the Menger Hotel here  in 1898.   LBJ and Lady Bird (newest high school named for her) were married at St. Mark’s in 1934.    My first trip to San Antonio was to visit HemisFair in 1968, with its famous needle tower.

The city features tons of historical markers (or “hysterical markers,” as Keith calls them), fascinating street names (highly recommend this book) and engrossing cemeteries.

Hannah, Rachel and Lois at the Alamo, Christmas 2000.  “Remember the Woodworths!”

#9  I  Have Loved Watching Our Neighborhood Grow

When we moved to our neighborhood, the closest 24-hour pharmacy was seven miles away.  Ditto the closest Target – and it was small.  Not all the streets went through, and there were construction sites everywhere (handy for dead-of-night rock dumps when building a pond….if you know what I mean….)

It’s just been fun to watch everything grow – the shopping, more schools, four 24-hour pharmacies within two miles and yes – two nearby Super Targets.

The girls spent hours playing “fort” at the houses built on our street – like this one, behind us.  Keith and I walked those houses often, getting ideas.

#8  I Love the Buses – All of Them

We had no school bus service in Houston.  Here – bus service is provided if you live more than two miles from the school.  It’s been a godsend for elementary and middle school.

Keith and I have been riding the Express bus downtown to work since November, 2005 – we were its original riders.   It’s saved us a fortune, plus gives me to time to read in the morning, and nap in the afternoon. Everyone at home is happier if I get my nap, I assure you.

Julia and Hannah on the bus August 14, 2006 – the district’s first day of school, plus Julia’s first day of American school ever.

#7  I Love the Military Presence

Standing behind a full bird colonel buying a quart of milk in HEB….sitting next to parents in camo at a school play….attending moving-back-to-Germany parties at the end of every school year….watching the doctor from Ft. Sam hook his bicycle on the front of our downtown bus….that’s what we do, because San Antonio is a military town with Ft. Sam Houston, Brooks AFB, Lackland AFB and Randolph AFB.

USAA Insurance – one of the three biggest employers (USAA, AT&T, federal government) – preferentially hires veterans, like Keith’s brother Byron.

We’ve loved sharing Thanksgiving with airmen trainees from Lackland Air Force Base.  Those are our good friends John and Linda on the left, with whom we always co-host the holiday.  And those are our good friends Shelley and John on the right, who helped us unpack in 2000 – what a thankless job.  I remember Shelley sloughing her way through a sea of my Rubbermaid.

#6  I Loved Learning To Be New?

In gynormous Houston, you carve your niche.  My niche was bordered by Stella Link, Gessner, S. Main and 59.   If I went anywhere in that several square miles, I was bound to see a friend.  And I loved it.  It was sooo hard to be “new” in San Antonio.  I h-a-t-e-d it.  And yet – had we not been “new” – I never would have learned its loneliness.   And I never would have made some of the good friends we’ve made, because I wouldn’t have thought to encourage the girls to ask the “new kid” over to play, or seek the visitor at church.  I never would have thought of what to write down for a new neighbor – the trash pick-up days, when the pool opens, the closest 24-hour pharmacy, the nearest churches of their denomination.  It’s a lesson I needed to learn, but one I never would have pursued voluntarily.

After we moved, I was always encouraging the girls to invite friends over, particularly new-to-the-neighborhood or new-to-school-or-church friends. Being new stinks.

#5   I Love the 20-Minute Town

On our house-hunting weekend in 1999, we ran into my friend Bud at the airport who said, “You’ll love this place.  It’s a 20-minute town.”  Meaning you can get anywhere in 20 minutes.  At rush hour, that’s not quite true now – but still, San Antonio’s size, population (1.3M) and expanse is very manageable.

Keith describes San Antonio as “a small town of a million people.”   We quickly noticed one of the first questions locals asked was, “Where did you go to high school?”  Obituaries almost always list the high school, even if the deceased completed more advanced education.  San Antonio also uses street banners to advertise events.  Its freeway entrance/exit system is very small-town with a distinct lack of interchanges – the one thing I would change with my magic wand, if I had one.

I like the smaller-town “feel.”  I’ve long hated driving, and if everything I needed were within five miles of me, that’d be even better.

One of the best ways to get around (down)town:  The River Walk.  We go every Christmas to enjoy the lights, music and food.  It meanders behind the office buildings where we work.

#4  I Love Fiesta Texas

We have Sea World, Schlitterbahn and Fiesta Texas here – but Fiesta Texas is our favorite.  Sometimes in the summer, we go to just swim – it has a kickin’ water park, and it’s too hot to do anything else outside.   We renew our passes at spring break; go often in the summer; go once for Fright Fest, and once for Holiday in the Park.

Her first summer home, Julia would come to me and wave her crooked hand like a fish, asking “Bomp, bomp, bomp, bomp?” with an expectant smile.  That meant, “Hey, Mom – let’s go to Fiesta Texas and do some rides!”  Every summer, she races to check the height requirements for the bigger coasters.  When she grows tall enough for the Superman (54″) – listen for the shout.

We took Julia when she’d been home less than two weeks.  Our sainted social worker – Jennifer – thought we were stone cold crazy until she met Julia and got a feel for her personality.  We did not have to cocoon our post-institutionalized child as so many adoptive families have had to do.

#3  I Love the Patriotism

You may think #7 – Military Presence – and Patriotism are the same thing.  But they’re not.   Military towns are not necessarily patriotic towns.  And San Antonio is patriotic.

Fiesta Texas plays the national anthem before opening the park each day.  One day last summer – as we waited, hands over our hearts – a group of foreign-sounding high school students rudely talked and laughed and jostled.  I glared, then finally stepped over and said, “Excuse me.  That’s our national anthem.”  A girl answered, “I do not care.  I am French.”  I said, “You are a guest in our country.   I would hope you would show respect for your host.”  They did quiet themselves.  An older-than-me Hispanic woman walked over after the anthem to say, “I’m glad you said something.  I was going over to slap them.”

The first year we hosted airmen trainees for Thanksgiving (2002), I parked my eight-year-old Ford mini-van between a tricked-out Lexus and a beat-up Chevy yard truck filled with lawn equipment.   The families hosting airmen tend to visit, and it’s so much fun hearing how long they’ve been doing it, what they’re serving, etc.    Nobody talks about their their heirloom china, or the square footage of their dining room, or any “things.”  They talk about how happy it makes them to host trainees for dinner, and maybe their own military service away from home on a holiday.

God bless America.

Children’s Choir Members Rachel and Lois in 2001

#2  I Love Our Church

The third Sunday we visited Shearer Hills, Keith looked at me and asked, “Do you want to get this over with and join?”   We did.    We’ve made most of our friends there – been challenged to serve Jesus there – taught and been taught there.

There’s always something special about the church where your babies are born and if for no other reason, Westbury Baptist in Houston will always be precious to me.  But there’s also something special about the church where your babies are born again, and all four of ours made their professions of faith at Shearer Hills.

A church membership is not a substitute for a relationship with Jesus Christ.  But we are called to be members of the body, and when we don’t see our church family regularly, there’s a vague unease in our family life.    We do try welcome guests, too, as we felt so welcomed.  As Casting Crowns sings, “Jesus paid much too high a price -  For us to pick and choose who should come -
And we are the Body of Christ.”

Hannah’s 2003 Baptism

#1 – I Love Our Schools

We are profoundly thankful for our schools.  Keith knew – from online research – within two square miles where we’d live when we moved, based on the schools.  If we had to move, then we were going to solve our biggest problem, which was sub-standard public education for our girls.

Third-grader Rachel was an outstanding student in HISD.  When we moved into North East ISD in San Antonio – she was behind.  Badly behind.  Her teacher tutored her twice a week to help her catch up.

Other than three small bumps in the road, we have been very happy with Rachel, Lois and Hannah in their schools.  That happiness makes the steep property taxes worth it.

But with Julia – we’ve been more than “happy.”  We’ve been thrilled.  Julia’s English-speaking ability (which was “none”) was evaluated soon after she came home in May, 2006, in preparation for her upcoming kindergarten year.  NEISD brought in a Russian-speaking speech therapist to see if she needed speech therapy, which almost all post-institutionalized children require (she did not.)  Her kinder teacher – who also came to her baptism last year – kept a very watchful eye on her, to ensure she didn’t get lost physically or academically.  The school principal personally looked in on her once a week.  She received extra reading tutoring in first and second grades, and – as an ESL student – is regularly tested for any looming problems.  Her teachers couldn’t have been better if we’d hand-designed them.

We also appreciate the elementary after-school program – not available in Houston.  Because our kids could stay on-campus after school until we could pick them up, they could be in choir, chess club, storytelling club,  Girl Scouts, etc.  Rachel – an education major at UTSA – now works in that program at a nearby elementary school – and loves it.

This picture Julia drew for her kinder teacher at the end of the school year says a lot.

So that’s my X-File…… I’m an ex-Houstonian, and have now lived in San Antonio for X (10) years.   The truth is out there.  And it’s that I love San Antonio.

Come see us sometime!

When Rachel was born, Keith and I started a small Savings Bond deduction with the idea of doing something really special around the time she started college.  We knew then as we richly understand now – when your kids are in college, they’re only half-yours.

After 16 months of planning – we’ve done that “something really special.”   We’ve just returned from a week-long Caribbean Christmas cruise sandwiched between eight sunny days in Puerto Rico.  The cruise is why we didn’t send Christmas cards (and why I need to hurry and order New Year’s cards!)  The peeps we chat with daily knew about our going, but we didn’t make a big deal of announcing it, especially online.  (“Yes, the house will be empty.  Please come rob it.”)

Before the cruise…..three days in San Juan, including its historic forts:

Iguanas exhibit no fear of Castillo San Cristobal (fort) tourists.   The reverse can’t be said for the tourists.

Julia strutted through the forts, usually leading our way.  I’ve long referred to her as “my little engineer” but after watching her obvious enjoyment of all things military, I started thinking:  “What about West Point?  What about The Air Force Academy, or the Naval Academy?”  She’s certainly smart enough and athletic enough to excel in a military profession.  Something to consider for a few years from now…..

A pensive moment for Lois, reflecting on Old San Juan.

A little post-fort shopping in Old San Juan with a stop in front of a statue of the Three Kings.  We saw imagery of Caspar, Melchior and Balthasar all over Puerto Rico.   Locals told us Christmas day is important religiously, but their family celebrations usually take place on January 6.  I saw no Christmas “stuff” half-price after December 25; I’m betting it doesn’t hit clearance until January 7.

Keith spent 16 months researching and booking all our Puerto Rican side-trips and ship excursions, including this Friday night swim with millions of bioluminescent dinoflagellates.   We took a fast boat across a bay, then jostled by bus off-road to a landing for the more gentle boat ride to the inky-black bio bay.  As we swam, the glowing, glittering dinoflagellates swirled around us, clinging to our skin.  At one point, I lifted my glittery arms to the starry heavens and seemed to meld with the sky.  The girls enjoyed the swim; for me, it was a spiritual experience.  How can anyone look at the tiny creatures lighing that bay and the beauty around and above it and believe there is no God?

We boarded the Carnival Victory Sunday, December 20.

Keith, Julia and I lodged in a balcony room; Rachel, Lois and Hannah shared an inside room across the hall.   Julia and Keith spent hours relaxing on the balcony, watching the ship pull away from and into port, spotting other ships and the occasional fish, identifying constellations, etc.

Christmas morning view from our balcony – the sun rising over St. Kitts.

Buckle up, Buttercup!  Have you seen the Carnival commercial featuring the water slide where you “scream like a little girl?”   No screaming from us – but lots of “Whoo-Whoos!”

Part of the fun of returning to the ship every day:  Towel animals on our beds!  Omigosh, I loved coming back to a tidied room and fresh towels every day.  I”m thinking of hanging my pilfered “Cruising” placard on my bedroom door knob tomorrow when I leave for work and see if it still works its magic…..

Deck the halls!  Carols above the lounge on Christmas Eve.

Santa delivered a Disney stocking for each of the girls, hanging from Julia’s swing-down bunk.  High School Musical for Julia; Hannah Montana for Hannah; Nightmare Before Christmas for Lois; and Cars for Rachel.

Every night at dinner, the waiters would gather to perform a bit’o'choreography.   I did a bit’o'chair’dancin’ myself.

We enjoyed two “elegant nights,” which is the only reason pantyhose defiled my suitcase.

We loved the ship, but the real thrills were on the excursions.  Like Dominica, which is the single most beautiful place I’ve ever been. We explored its charms with Woody, a 1996 Olympic swimmer and our tour guide.

The girls fought to take turns riding in the back of Woody’s jeep, which – thankfully – had seat belts.

We’d never seen poinsettias this big!

Jacko Falls, where we first tasted “Sweet Sop,” an insanely declicious fruit.  The girls became obsessed with it, insisting on frequent Sweet Sop snow cone stops.

Woody took us off-road to a little-known beach.   Incredibly beautiful – and we had it all to ourselves.

No noise, no litter, no vendors, no blaring music – nothing but absolute, totally private beauty.  Keith and I stood in chest-deep water and could count our toes.

Woody cracked open coconuts with a machete.   Yum!

Lois discovered schools of blue and orange fish, as well as gorgeous shells.

None of us wanted to leave Woody’s paradise – especially Rachel, our most enthusiastic beach buddy.


On New Year’s Eve, we recounted our trip adventures.  Rachel, Hannah and I voted “Woody’s Beach” the highlight.

Barbados - far more modern and industrialized than Dominica – was rich in history and roadside vendors.   The vendors appealed to the girls.  The history….well….

Keith and I visited the oldest church in Barbados, St. James Anglican, established 1648.  Its cemetery was fascinating.  The girls were so intrigued, they stayed in the car.

A Barbados hill-top warning.

Julia and Hannah went ape over vendors’ monkeys.  Julia created a “theme song” for the trip when she spotted locals butchering hogs for Christmas dinner.  She chanted, “Pigs, pigs, roasted pigs” in a sing-song voice, a mindless melody repeated countless times by Woodworth females (much to the irritation of the Woodworth male.)

We toured the rain forest of St. Lucia in an aerial tram – so relaxing.

I wish the tram ride had been hours long instead of 70 minutes – better than a massage!

Unfortunately, Rachel purchased this Rastafarian cap in St. Lucia.  You get my thanks if you can snatch it and burn it.

Christmas morning, we headed to Cockleshell Beach in St. Kitts.

A Christmas Star…Fish!  Rachel found it.  I’d never seen a live one in its natural habitat before.  She and lois braved skinned knees and bruises to retrieve four big shells from rock crevices.  We brought three home, but the fourth had a sand crab that refused to be dislodged.

Antigua – what views!  And “sea puppies!”

Eric Clapton owns a home on the island, per our driver.  I hummed “Layla” the rest of the day.

Keith, Julia and Lois voted swimming with the stingrays on Antigua the trip highlight.   The first time a stingray approached Rachel, she emitted a high-pitched scream and splashed back to the boat.  Julia stayed firmly affixed to Keith’s back, but we would pet them when they came by.  One thought Keith’s shirt was a food source and attached itself to him.   He did not appreciate my suggestion to join the La Leche League.

Hannah liked the stingrays so much, she nicknamed them “sea puppies.”  They’re very soft.

After the cruise (sob!), we decompressed five days in Aguadilla, Puerto Rico – much smaller than San Juan.

At a local grocery store…you know, that whole “Christmas with the Kranks” thing….fighting over Mel’s Hickory Honey Ham…..

Lois’ suggestion for a room snack.  No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no – that’s one for each tentacle.

A sign at Crashboat Beach, where we went almost daily.   It either says  – “In the event of a tsunami, get to high ground, ” or “In the event of a tsunami, lean way over and kiss yourself goodbye.”  You choose.

The best food in Aguadilla was served at Crashboat Beach.  Local vendors grill skewers of tasty chicken or fish.  Two skewers and a piece of bread – $5.  Yum! Keith also enjoyed mofongo, sort of a plantain and chicken stew.

Sandy Bottoms – er – Hannah at Crashboat.  The waves were very, very strong.   When Keith hobbled in from the surf one afternoon, he announced, “I was just handed my keester.”  The waves took two pairs of our goggles and a pair of Rachel’s sunglasses.

Our last day at Crashboat – New Year’s Eve.

So long, Crashboat.  Hope to see you again.  And feel free to give back those sunglasses.

So that was our trip.   What we’d spent 18 years saving for, and 16 months seriously planning.  The credit goes to Keith, who researched every possibility to the nth degree.

We were melancholy leaving the boat, and then five days later in the San Juan airport.  But as Rachel reminded us -

Don’t be sad because it’s over.  Be glad because it happened.

Something really special happened.

I’m glad.