family

Forty Years

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January 2023 marks 40 years of life with Rock.  We met as high school students when he moved into the neighborhood.  The first time I saw him I thought “Wow! He’s gorgeous!” and immediately sighed inside thinking I had no chance with him.  But, for some reason, he liked what he saw in me.  I was a train wreck, though I didn’t know it.  I battled depression and anxiety and terribly low self-esteem.  He was raised to believe he could have whatever he wanted if he was willing to fight hard enough for it. I still praise the Lord he decided I was worth fighting for. 

His battle was against me not believing I could be loved enough, not believing I could be wanted. I need to be very clear on this point.  Nothing Mother or Daddy did caused my problems.  There were other elements in my life that contributed to my problems.  Rock only cared about loving me. 

And for 40 years he has done just that.  He has fought to keep our life on track and our children safe.  He fought to drag me out of the depths of grief and sadness while dealing with his own grief over the years. He raised our children to believe they too could have whatever they wanted if they were willing to fight for it. 

We live an adventure even now.  Between the children, the granddaughters, the longhorns, church, hunting, fishing, living in the Big Thicket, river life and lake life, we always have something going on.  We are still crazy about each other and he has helped me become someone I couldn’t have been without him.

I liken him to an ancient warrior.  His ancestry points to Scotland and I am reminded that even the Empire of Rome could not overtake his grandfathers.  I see that strength in him.  He is tough and strong and yes, he can be difficult. I love the difficult just as much as I do the tender and gentle parts of him. I tried to explain to someone one time that truly loving someone is to love the dark as much as the light parts of them.  To not only accept and tolerate, but to embrace the hard to handle parts, too.  

Contrary to popular belief, he has a tender heart that loves larger than life.  He adores his children and granddaughters.  He stays on alert for any sign of distress among our tiny family circle.  Anyone who causes even a little stress among us is forever excluded from his trust.  He keeps a small, tight circle around us. 

I praise Jesus for our life together.  Rock’s faith in Christ, his tenacity in life, his passion and strength keep me grounded and safe.  I never want to take for granted the love we share.  I am ever grateful for his choosing to love me.  I pray he knows how much I love him. We will celebrate our 38th wedding anniversary in June, but I am celebrating our 40th year of being in love. I love you, Rock. 

Ghost Ship

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New Year’s Day, we spent time on the Bolivar Peninsula.  Looking toward the open sea, I saw a monster vessel coming in through the haze.  Heading up the ship channel to one of the ports. 

How many times did my father make that passage to Texas City?  He worked in the engine room of an oil tanker.  Sabine Towing and Transportation.  S.S. Guadalupe.  Diamond S.  He sailed on the S.S. Brazos a time or two.  The company was locally operated, though owned by Chromaloy.  They took very good care of Daddy when he was sick.  They flew him home one time when his bipolar depression got too bad while aboard ship.  I remember he had lost his false teeth; and I remember going with Mother to the airport to pick him up. 

I also remember the smell of his Old Spice cologne and King Edward cigars.  The whiteness of his tee shirt.  The tan of his khakis.  How his head felt when Mother had freshly cut his hair.  Just bare clippers run over his entire scalp.  He liked pipes and Louis L’Amour.  He preferred a flat bottom aluminum boat and running trot lines.  He liked to squirrel hunt rather than deer hunt. 

When he was younger and well, he always had a project going.  Some scheme with fishing or planting or brewing usually.  When he was older and sick, he would again try to work on projects. 

He taught me how to fix bicycle tires and to tinker with lawn mowers.  He let me paint the clothesline poles.  He let me argue with him about current events.  I would get so worked up and he would let me go on with my temper flaring.  He never told me to be quiet or anything.  Mother would finally intervene and hush us up.  He didn’t get mad.  He just seemed to want me to debate about things and to learn to see both sides of things.  To look beyond my own scope of understanding and see something more.  And to respect what generations before me had endured. 

That ship in the haze certainly was real.  And it definitely stirred up a ghost in my memories.