My core group from high school... all grown up.

After counting down to my 10-year class reunion, it is only right that I write about the actual reunion.

I flew into Texas on Wednesday night prior to my reunion. I had planned to attend the Homecoming football game, but much needed rain set into Central Texas this week and… well… there’s an amazing thing about being 10 years out of high school:

Sitting in the rain at your high school’s football game isn’t as high of a priority as it once was.

I drove by the stadium to find my Yoemen winning and see that the stands were actually fairly full. Then I went to visit my brother and his family for the evening.

The next day, Saturday, was the reunion. There was a class picnic in the morning in which classmates could bring their children out the play and mingle. However, as someone who lives on a musician’s schedule (i.e. going to bed around 4 or 5, getting up at noon) making a morning picnic was… well… it didn’t happen. I got up at noon.

My core group of girl friends came over to my parent’s house prior to the reunion to have a small baby shower for one of my friends who is pregnant (and expecting in November… a good month, in my opinion. hehe) I was REALLY glad to have that time, just the five of us, to catch up before going to the full-class gathering. Even though we’ve actually successfully gotten together a hand-full of times in the last few years, it was still nice to reconnect and catch up.

The two classmates I've known the longest... I'm happy to have this picture now. I've known both close to 25 years. Crazy.

We headed out, in the rain, to our reunion together. We all tried to guess how many of our classmates would be there. I felt the number would be fairly low, but we actually had a really good turn out! I would guess that just shy of half our class came out. (Keep in mind, my class was right around 100 people.)

Here is what is the coolest thing about the whole night: we all seemed to be on an even slate. It was rather comforting to watch how the same groups of people still hung out with one another. Like the group I was with most were the same people I ran with through high school. However, there was none of the cliche high school cliques any more. I found myself floating between groups easily…

And that in and of itself is something I found had changed about ME. I couldn’t sit still for long. I had the need and urge to meander around. People watch from other angles. Talk to various people. Dance. Join in on rounds of shots. If I could name the number one change about me from high school: I’m not as shy as I was back then. Its something I, with all honesty, credit my husband with making happen, and I am so grateful for it.

Facebook took a lot of the mystery out of the night ahead of time. Most of my classmate’s spouses I recognized from pictures they have posted online. Many of us also knew exactly what we are all doing today. Nonetheless, it didn’t make it any less amazing to listen to people speak of their spouses and/or their children. I quickly came to realize that seeing someone in a photo is nothing like seeing them in person. Nothing like getting a taste of their personality today.

Many toasts were said through the course of the night. Most humorous. Some serious. Here's to the Class of 1999. I love you guys!

Most of my classmates haven’t changed much, only getting better with time. A few I had to almost smile with how they’ve really not changed at all, as certain traits from back then shined right through the changes in looks that age brings.

Speaking of which, there was a lot of comfort in the fact that name tags were not necessary at our reunion, as classmates were easily recognized. A few people I saw I’d, in all honesty, completely forgotten about, but I was pleased to recognize.

There were classmates missing that I had wished would be there. It would have been wonderful to catch up with them. But work, finances, and miles kept many away, and that is something I understand all too well.

My only regrets of the night are that we didn’t take a class photo and that my husband couldn’t be there with me. But, there is always the next reunion… be it in 5 or 10 years. I’m already looking forward to it.

#1 – In loving memory…

I went to visit my friend yesterday, and I took her a single red rose. I miss her dearly.

Five years after graduation, the Class of 1999 lost one of its members in an automobile accident. I lost a friend who had a very special place in my heart… a friend who still has that place to this day.

While I am sure I knew Candace somehow through elementary school, it was in sixth grade that our friendship seemed to really spark. At least, that is when my fond memories of her start.

We had sixth grade science together, and we had to participate in the science fair. That meant having to purchase a presentation board for the fair.

Candace paid for hers in all pennies.

Later that year, I forget what our class was doing that she brought deviled eggs to class as part of her project. However, I do remember going to her after class and saying, “Hey… I’ll be your best friend if I can have one…” She pretty much rolled her eyes at me the same time I rolled my eyes internally at myself for even using that old cliche.

I did not know when I said that, though, that she would be one of those people to truly leave a mark on my life that will be there until the day I die.

I have SEVERAL pictures of Candace taking a picture of me while I took a picture of her. It was like a running joke.

Candace simply had this open and innocent nature, even as you knew she’d already lived a lot of life by junior high. I don’t think anyone would disagree with me when I say she had this ditziness that made you shake and scratch your head, and yet she was in National Honor Society in high school and took advanced placement classes.

She was a natural beauty, one of those rare beauties who didn’t have to wear make-up or fix her hair to still stand out in a crowd. That fact was one part natural good looks and one part inner beauty that shown through her personality and easy smile. I really don’t think she was ever want for male attention, and yet I don’t know of many women who would have begrudged her that fact.

I could go on and on about memories I have of our friendship, but I will do my best to keep it short… ish.

Candace would always wear her ponytail up high on her head, and she quickly earned the nickname “Pebbles.” I still have cards from her signed with that name. A Pebbles she was, too!

I remember calling to dedicate LeAnn Rimes’ “(Don’t Ever Lose) That Light in Your Eyes” to her on WACO 100. And she would dedicate any given song back to me. I wish I could remember now what it was she called in now. That part of that  memory escapes me, but LeAnn’s song always reminds me of her.

Me and Candace at Flag camp -- 1997

So does “Wonderwall” by Oasis, as I still remember her singing along to it in the cafeteria when it would come on the jukebox.

She went to the same church as I did, and we went through Confirmation together. I think it was during projects we did as part of our Confirmation that she met my brother. I remember that she was one of the only friends of mine that my brother actually stopped me to tell me, “She’s really cool. I like her!” I told her that one day, and she would always — from then forward — make sure to go out of her way to say hello to him whenever he was around.

Un-apologetically open and friendly. That was Candace.

I remember, also, as we worked on a project for Confirmation, she and another friend spent the night at my house with me. She wanted to know why we made her sleep on the love seat, while the two of us had the couches. I pointed out she was a good five inches shorter than both of us.She took it good naturedly, but pouted about it nonetheless. What I’d give to banter with her again, if only for a few minutes.  It would almost always end in gales of laughter.

These two were unseperable!

Candace was a member of the Flag Corp, and that sisterhood offered even more memories. Too many to even begin to list.

This weekend is homecoming, and Candace made her appearance on the Homecoming court. She shined out there on that field.

Our Senior year, near the end of the Fall Semester, we came close to losing her in an auto accident. I still remember when the call came, and I got word it had happened. I went numb…

One of my favorite photos in our Senior Yearbook is a photo of Candace in her cap and gown, with a far away look in her eyes. She came all too close to not being there that night, and yet there she was. A few more scars on her body, but she was there with our class. Getting her diploma with the rest of us.

She would always bring her tax return to have my parents prepare it for her. The last time I saw her was on a very cold February or March day, when I met her and her boyfriend at my parent’s office to get their tax information from them.

Candace giving me a pout... Our last night to ever perform together on the field. -- 1997

My parents had to run an errand out of town, and I was more than happy to meet Candace, who had an appointment that Saturday morning, at the office for them. I hadn’t seen her in far too long, and I itched to know how she was doing. For even though we had drifted in location, and we didn’t “hang out” any more nor did we ever run around and go out together, I still considered her one of my very best friends.

However, I drove up late only to discover I had the wrong keys. We didn’t get a chance to visit much as we stood there shivering and she handed me their information outside.

I hugged her tightly and we said a very hasty good bye to get back into our warm vehicles. I apologized up and down for my tardiness and for forgetting my keys. I still remember her giving me her patented, “You’re crazy” look and laughing at my being so flustered — something only someone so familiar with you can do and you know its done out of love.

The next year, I missed her coming into the office to drop off and pick up her return. I had no idea it would be my last chance to ever see her again.

I got word that night in April 2003 that there had been an accident. Once again I went numb. She’d cheated death before, but was not so lucky this time. This world lost a light that night, but it gained an angel above. I like to think she’s one of my guardian angels… be it true or not, it gives me comfort.

I had a final in one of my major Journalism courses at Texas A&M the day of her funeral. It was one of the finals you were there to take even if you had 103 fever. Candace was always one of my biggest cheerleaders (and not to mention an Aggie fan!), and I felt she would probably kick my butt if I missed my final. However, I did make it to the Rosary the night before. That night is my very last, deeply treasured, memory of her.

So as the Class of 1999 gathers tomorrow night, her absence will be felt deeply. She’s not there by choice. She’s not there because… she’s not here.

I went to visit her grave yesterday, and I mused to myself, “Where would she be today if…” as I stared at her headstone.

I know that asking that question doesn’t get me anywhere. I instead choose to believe in my heart that she’s smiling down on me and everyone she ever cared about and loved in life. I choose to believe she is happy that I’ve accomplished as many of my dreams as I have. Happy I’ve found a man I love to grow old with. Happy I have a wonderful family who all also remember her fondly. Happy to be one of the voices in my conscience, guiding me in various tasks and decisions. Happy to be poking fun at me when I do something goofy.

Here’s to believing wherever she is now, she’s happy and smiling nonstop. She deserves absolutely nothing less.

#2 – Graduation

Thirteen years had lead to that night.

Kindergarten at St. Monica’s. First and second grade at Ben Milam Elementary. Third through fifth at Ada Henderson. Junior high at O.J. Thomas. Finally Yoe High School.

Hours of classes. Hours of homework. All the organizations. All the events. The love. The pride. The friendships that would fade. The friendships that would last a lifetime.

It all culminated on May 29, 1999 at 8:00 pm on Yoe High School Athletic Field when we stood for one last time as one unit. We were and are the Class of 1999.

The day of graduation started with practice both on the field and in the gymnasium (in case of rain). We came really close to having to be in the gym, as I remember the sky having a distinctly greenish tinge to it, as storms churned and billowed in the area.

I sat ranked 13th in my class. I would be heading off to Temple College in the fall, followed by Texas A&M University in College Station. I would soon be a member of the Fightin’ Texas Aggie Class of 2003, along with many of my Yoe High classmates. We had future Texas Longhorns and Southwest Texas Bobcats. Baylor Bears and Texas Tech Red Raiders.  Some would be going straight into the work force. Others would be getting ready to start families.

My Senior Portraits - 1999

However in that moment, in that place and time, we were all on the same page. The whole world and our lives ahead of us. We were jumping off into it with the safety net of our education but without any guarantees. However, we had in our hands, inside the maroon leather cover, our high school diplomas. And that was enough.

I think everyone in my class will agree that one of the most memorable parts of the night was our salutatorian reading Dr. Seuss’ “Oh The Place You’ll Go.” We had the oldest daughter of our school board president in our class, and I remember her hugging her dad when she got her diploma.  We sang “On Yoe High” one last time. We turned our tassels and stood poised to dash across the field.

As the night ended, we knew not what the future held. And somehow, it didn’t matter. We’d done it. We’d made it to our graduation night. We had something to celebrate.

Friends and classmates forever...

Friends and family swarmed the field. Pictures were taken and there were hugs and tears. Most of my class went on to Senior Celebration that night after graduation. I opted to celebrate at home with family. I also had obligations at church early the very next morning, so I skipped my class party. Therefore, when I look back on graduation, I realize that it was the last time I saw and spoke to many of my classmates.

These people were a constant for me. I had stood beside them. I had learned beside them. I had played with and relied upon them for the last thirteen years. Suddenly, that would no longer happen. I was excited for my future. But I also mourned the loss of these relationships.

I look back upon that night as a huge turning point in life. It was a step from something familiar out into the great unknown of life.

Life is a still a great unknown… but my educations (high school and college,  the practical, social and academic) have given me the tools to navigate through it, one challenge, failure and success at a time.

Yoe High Class of 1999 -- There were freaks and hippies in my high school // Football players all tryin’ to be cool // And everybody scramblin’ to hide their beer // When the cops drove by ‘til the coast was clear // Kids fallin’ in and out of love // On the hood of Chevys, in the beds of trucks // We were stumblin’ our way through life ‘til our senior year

#3 – Prom

Prom 1998 & 1999

Prom is one of those events in a high school career that you look forward to starting around the time you can say the word “prom.” Or at least it was for me. A night to get all dressed up and go out for what promised to be a magical evening.

In reality, was it magical? Maybe not so much. It was, however, a lot of fun.

In my high school, prom was for Juniors and Seniors. The Junior class hosted the prom, and the Seniors were the special guests of the night. Neither year did I have a date, instead I went out a group of girlfriends for the night.

Our Junior year, we loaded up and went out to eat prior to going to the prom. My parents loaned us their Grand Marquis to drive for the night, and we road in leather seat luxury.

After wards, we all spent the night at one of the girls’ parent’s house. We made a night of it! Prom followed by a big slumber party.

Our Senior year, due to timing issues (mostly my having UIL competition that same day), we opted to have dinner after prom.

The year before, we’d been late arriving, and we agreed the most fun of the night had really been the beginning: the grand march. And then, of course, you wanted to get your prom picture taken early when you still looked your best.

I have to give it to the Class of 2000… they did a fantastic job decorating the VFW where we held prom. Looking back, I do think they did a better job hosting prom than my class did. (Just my personal opinion, of course.) We were late to our dinner reservations, because we were having too much fun to leave prom!

Dinner was wonderful, though, and after wards we headed to another friend’s house for our “slumber party.” Our biggest giggle of the night had to be the flat tire we got on our way home. We had to wait for help to come as none of us could see ourselves trying to change a tire in long dresses, hair and nails done.

But we eventually made it to the post-party, and our night ended quietly tucked away in an upstairs den fast asleep surrounded by the friends we’d hold forever in hearts.

Prom is generally considered a night for couples. For me, it was a night of best friends, prom dresses, and snap shots of memories that will last a lifetime.

Friendships & Prom Memories

#4 – Journalism: Yearbook & Newspaper

The Yoeman Arrow -- Our school newspaper. I served as Editor of the paper for a couple years.

In eighth grade, we signed up for classes for our freshman year of high school. Most of the classes were a given. The core classes and several of the electives were set in stone ahead of time. However, I had one class period left to fill. What to take? What to take?

I saw a choice for Journalism, and the actual thought through my brain: “That should be an easy A…”

No one told me if would change my life.

Within weeks of taking my first Journalism course, my whole life plan went from being a teacher some day to being a journalist. I devoured every lesson. I found a talent for the writing style. My successes in UIL Journalism competitions fueled my fire. By the end of my freshman year, I had a feature article appear in the school newspaper, and I was officially hooked for good.

I was on the yearbook and newspaper staff for the next three years, and I eventually took over as editor of the newspaper. My time and work in the journalism department was without a doubt the time spent making strides for my future. I worked closely with the editor of my town’s newspaper, and I have to say that he taught me techniques that I rely on still today.

I spent hours of time outside of school working on the newspaper. My Senior year, I took the newspaper from being a single page in the local newspaper, to a two page tab-style insert. I would literally lock myself in my bedroom for a full weekend composing the newspaper in QuarkXPress, editing photos in Photoshop. My teacher/sponsor would critique the paper after it was printed, and I would learn more from those critiques that I would have had someone sat down and showed me what to do. Often, you learn more from your mistakes than from your successes.

My yearbooks

My best friend was editor of the yearbook, and I worked closely with her to turn out that project as well. Hours would be spent in school working to make page deadlines. We would meet during the summer to proof pages as they came back from the publisher. A handful of us would oversee Senior portraits just before school started each year.

Advertising sales, layouts, and deadlines were all common to those of us who really gave the yearbook and newspaper the attention and dedication it required to produce a quality product.

I was given a crash course in using the school’s cameras to be a backup photographer when we needed one. Boy things would have been easier had digital photography been as common as it is today! Nonetheless, I think that this is when my interest in photography really got a spark.

I had two amazing Journalism teachers in my four years of high school. They really pushed me and fueled my fire. Due to the magic of email and Facebook, I’m still in touch with both of them today. I hope they know how much of an impact they had on me, because had it not been for them I would probably not be writing this today. I would probably not be pursuing a dream of making writing a profitable career for myself. I would be a different person… and while that would probably be great as well, I’m REALLY happy to be who and where I am now.

And it all started by checking the box beside “Journalism” under electives in eighth grade.

The purpose of the ARROW is…

Acquaint students with Yoe traditions and ideals.
Report school news fairly and impartially.
Render support for scholastic standards.
Offer aid and information to its readers.
Work for the betterment of Yoe High School.

#5 – Wheels

My Old Parking Tags

A big thing every teenager thinks about when they enter high school: DRIVING!

I was no different. I was excited to sign up for drivers ed when I was a freshman. The first semester I had Health class, and then second semester was Drivers Ed. I’ll be honest, I don’t remember much about “in class” study. I do remember the simulators, though!

They were older, and half the simulator units didn’t quite work right. But you still got the effect of driving a vehicle, and honestly the lessons learned in that trailer as we pretended to drive are the ones that stuck with me most. I still think of that simulator any time I look before changing lanes! (And, personally, I think a lot of drivers today could use a few hours in a simulator course to go over some basic driving laws and rules.)

I passed my written exam in one try, and I was ecstatic to have my learners permit in hand.

I was one of the first to have summer driving. We had to complete a certain number of hours in a car (with a teacher) driving and then observing. So, we were paired up with a fellow student to do our driving. I actually did my summer driving before school had even let out for summer!  I have to confess that I passed parallel parking thanks to the passenger break my instructor had at his disposal. However, everything else came down to just good practice behind the wheel. As with many things, the more you practice, the better you do, and I do think those hours summer driving were important. (Sidebar: I sometimes wonder if our teenagers today are getting enough practical experience behind the wheel before being let loose on our highways and interstates?)

On my 16th birthday, even though technically I wasn’t supposed to do it that way, I got my Dad to sign me out of school to go get my driver’s license. I was so excited, and I didn’t want to wait until after school!!! It only took maybe fifteen minutes, but it made me feel like a million dollars.

* 1989 Ford Taurus.

My first car getting a bath at a Flag Corp fundraiser in 1997.

The first vehicle I drove to school was my dad’s black Ford F-150 Supercab truck. However, that only lasted about a week before I had my first car: a 1989 Ford Taurus.

I loved that car. Some of my favorite memories of that car include:

– going to sell advertising for the yearbook. All my friends and I piled into the car and went on our way. I missed my turn one afternoon, and instead of going around the block I insisted on going about two blocks in reverse to catch the correct turn.

It was a small town. You could do stuff like that there.

– it being weather central before Baccalaureate and Graduation ceremonies in which tornado watches and warnings kept popping up all around us. I was parked right beside the band hall, and about fifteen people (including band directors!) crowded around my car as we listened to the weather reports.

– listening to CDs on my portable CD player thanks to the cassette tape adapter. I had quite the CD collection by then, but (as per my last blog entry) Bryan White was what you could usually hear being piped out of my speakers.

When it came time to sell that car, I was very sad to see it go. I grew quite attached to that car! It was my first ride, and like your first love… you never forget it.

One of my final memories of the car was when the back window got busted out due to a flying rock when the lot it sat on for sale was being mowed. One of the best things about the car was the rear-window defrost, but the price of putting one back in was just too much. So, it was replaced with a regular back window, and I think it eventually went to an auto auction to be sold. Nonetheless, it was gone after it had already been replaced…

Red... my beloved truck that my brother and I squabble over who is going to own some day

* 1983 Ford F-150.
You can buy anything at Wal-Mart, you know. It’s where my second vehicle was purchased, after all!

When I was little, I would always talk about how much I wanted “a red and white truck.” I still remember one sat outside of a house we drove by every morning on the way to school when I was in elementary school. I would stare at it longingly. Some day, I wanted a red and white truck.

Fast forward several years and my parents noticed a truck for sale in the Wal-Mart parking lot, and the decided to call to inquire about it. It turned out to be a good deal, and after being looked over by my brother (who is an ASE certified mechanic) and given a thumbs up, my dad brought it home for me to drive.

I admit to being a little nervous the first time I drove it to school! Going from a low profile sedan to a long-bed pick-up truck was a transition! But its also one I have never turned away from to this day.

That truck still sits at my parents house, and my brother and I regularly banter over who is going to own it some day. I say I get first dibs, because it was mine in high school! Time will tell, of course, but one thing time has not changed: I love that truck.

Red freshly repainted (except for the inside of the bed, obviously) -- 2007

I was a Junior when my brother took it and we got dual exhaust put on it. Straight out the back was my request, and boy did it purr with a low rumble once it was done. I still remember when a guy in one of my classes asked me why I got dual exhaust put on my truck. I was pretty baffled… why WOULDN’T I get it done?? It needed a new exhaust system anyway. Why not go all out and make it — excuse me — bad ass!?

That truck has a personality all its own, that’s for sure. It smells like an old truck on the inside. I love the click of the doors when you open them. The sliding rear glass, and the high beam switch on the floor. The interior light that only turns on after you hit the ceiling just right. I had to put a new radio in it, and I scored speakers for behind the seat so it would thump.

Right out of high school, the truck needed a new transmission, which was an adventure in and of itself. It had to have the top repainted, and since then the paint has been refreshed a second time. I eventually moved on to new models of the F-150 for safety features (a 2000, 2002, 2003, 2005 and 2007 to be exact over time… one of those died in an auto accident and the rest due to being a lease and my decision to move up when the mileage got too high for the lease.) However, that 1983 remains my favorite of all the vehicles I’ve ever driven. I drove it to my high school graduation. I drove it to my first day of college.  It definitely drove me to many important events and changes in high school… heck, in my life.

I had an old beat up Ford pick-up truck
That I drove around when I was 18
And I must confess though I tried my best
That old bed in the back was only used for hauling leaves
I was a nerd back then
I’m still nerd right now
Some things never change.
– Some Things Never Change by Tyler Flowers

#6 – Life outside school

High school days do indeed always seem to focus on what happens within the confines of “high school life.” But as I look back on those four years, I see many things in my personal life — life outside of school — that changed dramatically.

* My brother got married. November 1995.

Wedding Party

My first semester of high school, my older brother got married. Definitely a transition for me! He’d gone to technical school out of high school, so its not like he’d never been away from home. But it was still going to prove to be a big change. He had been that one dear friend that had always been there my whole life. Believe it or not, he and I really never — or at least very rarely — fought like most siblings do. We had a mutual respect and admiration from the beginning.

Now, he’d never be across the house any more, and in that respect I was a little sad that day. However, in my heart I knew he was starting a new chapter of his life, and I was genuinely happy for him… for them both!

The wedding was beautiful, and the day a blur. It was my first time being a bridesmaid, and I was still a newbie to high heels. THAT could have been a disaster, but thankfully all went smoothly. Many wonderful memories exist from that day, and I cherish them all.

The long and short of it all, though, my family changed right after my high school career started. And I wouldn’t trade that change for anything…

* My first concert, Fan Fair, & Nashville. 1997.

Fan Fair 1997 -- (Clockwise rom top left) At the Country Music Hall of Fame; Me and Mom in from the the Ryman; Me and Michigan J Frog -- the WB was brand new; Me and Bryan White

My Sophomore year, I dipped my toes into what would eventually become my whole life… only I didn’t know it then.

On Feb. 14, 1997, a friend and I went to see Thrasher Shiver, Ricochet and Bryan White. I admit. I was one of those girls who was madly in love with Bryan White, and I was on cloud nine the whole night. On top of it all, I had scored floor seats. We were only maybe 15 rows from the stage. I had a BLAST and was pretty much hooked.

That summer, my parents and I made the trip to Nashville to attend Fan Fair. My very first visit to Nashville, and we all remember my saying, “Wow, I feel like I just came home. I’m going to live here some day.”

What do you know? I do now!

The funny thing is, there are big parts of Nashville I just don’t remember. We drove down Broadway, and we went to the Ryman. I remember the Ryman but not Broadway. Fan Fair was still held out at the fair grounds, which I thought was fantastic. It was all centrally located, and easy to go from the live shows all day to the booths. I laugh now as I go through photos from those days… the people that I snapped photos of that I now know personally. Or the ones that were so big back then that are now long ago forgotten.

I stood in line for hours on end to meet Bryan White! We took a tour of homes, and we saw where multiple stars lived at that time. I remember being enthralled with tour buses. Today? A bus is a bus, and my husband co-drives them.

My how times changed. I guess you could say, though, that the trip to Nashville was a glimpse into the future, and on some level I knew that. But had you asked me seriously that last night before we drove home, and we sat in the audience of the Grand Ole Opry, “Will you be watching your husband on that stage some day, while standing backstage?” I’d have laughed and said no…

…and I’d have been wrong.

* My nephew was born. October 1997.

I was a proud aunt

First comes love. Then comes marriage. Then come baby in a baby carriage!

Stands to reason that after my brother got married my freshman year, that there would be a good chance I’d have a niece or nephew by the time I graduated. Sure enough, fall of my Junior year, my nephew made his appearance to this world.

Now, he came into this world early. Premature, he was smaller than the Elmo doll that sat in his baby bed. He spent weeks of his life in NICU where family could come visit after putting on a gown and scrubbing up carefully. He started day one of his life fighting. He started day one as the light of many of our lives.

I still remember New Years Eve 1998. My parents and I baby sat him for the night, and he had to wear a heart monitor around his little chest. If it shifted too much, it would go off with a beep that would make him stir.

We eventually opted to take the monitor off so he could sleep, but I remember hardly sleeping a wink. I was constantly getting up to check on him. I could watch him sleep for hours and never get tired of it. A living and breathing miracle from God.

Family photo -- Christmas 1997

To fast forward a little past high school years, around age four or five, he was diagnosed with Duchenne Muscular Dystrophy. He’ll never play sports, and while he can still walk, he has a wheelchair to use when he gets too tired and sore to walk anymore. Swimming, go-cart riding and fishing are among his favorite activities. He’s a Tenderfoot in Boy Scouts, and he just started to play saxophone in the band. He’s a straight-A student.

He is my biggest hero. Like I said, from Day One he entered this world as a fighter. And fought he has. He gets frustrated when he trips and falls. And I know he probably gets picked on at school now and then. He never lets it get him down. He’s a local spokesman for MDA, and this weekend he’s appearing on the telethon.

He teaches everyone he knows about Muscular Dystrophy and MDA. But more than that… he teaches everyone to not give up. To keep your head up. That just because you can’t do one thing, it doesn’t mean give up. It means find that thing you are good at, and give that thing your all.

I really believe God never gives us more than we can handle. And my nephew handles something this big with such grace and optimism… he’s one of the strongest people I know.  Him… his mom… his dad… his sister. I admire them more than they will ever know.

* My grandpa passed away. December 1997.

Me, Grandpa, Mom

My grandma on my mom’s side passed away long before I was born. So growing up, I only knew my grandparents on my dad’s side, and then Grandpa on my mom’s side. So, don’t think it weird when I say that in December 1997, I lost my first grandparent.

This was a man that rode a bicycle around town into at least his 70s. I remember going to visit him and my brother and I would get softballs, baseball, tennis balls, golf balls, whatever we wanted that he had collected on his travels through town. We would go every few weekends and take Grandpa to church, then go out to eat. It was a nice familial routine we had for years. I miss that sometimes still today.

Grandpa had been in a nursing home for awhile already and his health started to go downhill in ’97. He had already beaten throat cancer, and when he passed away at 91 he could say he had lived a life of hard work.

Somewhere, a photo does exist of my grandpa, my mom, my brother and my nephew… four generations together. We were lucky to get that photo, as my nephew was only two months old when Grandpa passed away.

Death is never easy, but its a part of life. There are many people who have never had to deal with a loved one passing away, and while they are very lucky… I think that’s a key lesson in life that needs to be learned. It helps to respect life and to cherish every day… every hour… every minute we have with our loved ones.

#7 – Miscellaneous Organizations

My letter from my jacket

* FTA :: When I was in second grade, I had this INCREDIBLE teacher who made a huge impact on me. I had, for years, said I was going to be a teacher when I grew up, but it was in second grade that I decided I would teach second grade. I wanted to be just like my teacher that year.

Then in fourth grade, my class had this awesome student teacher from the high school come over now and then who told me all about Future Teachers of America — an organization in high school for future teachers — and who said that if I was truly that passionate about being a teacher, I would need to be a member.

Well, we can all tell how my life took a whole different path, and I am not a teacher. I could still become one some day, but as for right now, its only peripherally on my radar. Despite my career goals changing in high school, I became a member of FTA, and actually served as president of it for a couple years.

I’m sad to say that FTA didn’t really do much. All I can really recall doing is having a few guest speakers at meetings and heading up the Toys for Kids campaign at Christmas in conjunction with the local car dealer. Then in the Spring, Senior members would go to the elementary school and student teach a class for a day. (If I recall correctly, my Senior year, I was assigned a first grade class for a day.)

Despite the lack of activities, I am still quick to point out that I was a member all four years of high school with the organization. It meant a lot to me. Still does.

My FHA/HERO pin

* FHA :: I think somewhere along the line, FHA grew to have too much of a stereotype of being specifically for women who, literally, just wanted to be homemakers. In fact, this stereotype can be best found in the fact that “FHA” technically does not exist any more… instead today called FCCLA: Family, Career, and Community Leaders of America. A change that, as best I can tell, occurred effective Sept. 1, 1999. (Once again, my class seems to have been the last one to slide through before a change.)

Despite the “homemakers” moniker, this organization (much like the Homemaking class — which, by the way, does ANYONE still have the recipe for Chocolate Chip Cookies we made in that class… those were the BEST!) was about more than cooking, sewing and home decorating. It touched on careers. It touched on finances. It didn’t care about race, age or sex. It was all-inclusive, and its an organization I am still proud to say I was a member.

My Sophomore year, I held office in FHA, and that offered me the opportunity to attend an FHA conference in College Station one weekend. While I remember nothing about the conference, I clearly remember riding the elevator the night before hoping to run into Little Richard, who was rumored to be staying at the same hotel we were. I also remember at dinner playing the game, “Who would play you in a movie about your life?” Someone suggested Julia Roberts for me. Anyone buying that one???

Okay, so sometimes the best memories are not necessarily about the organization… sometimes they are about the events that occur thanks to being a member of that organization.

* Christian Club :: It was a time in which prayer was being yanked out of schools. At football games, prayer was replaced with a moment of silence. Meet Me At The Pole was beginning to get national attention as a questionable thing to hold on a public school campus. It was a time in which I was a proud member of Christian Club.

Christian Club met every Tuesday during lunch (we had an open campus and could leave for lunch) at the Lutheran Church a few blocks from the school. Every week a church would donate sandwiches and chips, and a local religious leader would give a talk — consider it a mini-sermon, if you will.

Many were members were simply there to have a free meal. Others, though, took the club seriously and respected what was taught during that lunch hour. I still look back on those lunches fondly, knowing that it was my freedom of religion that allowed me to attend. And knowing it was one time in which people of all faiths came together with one thing in mind: faith in God.

Newly inducted NHS members -- 1996

* National Honor Society :: I proudly wore the NHS collar on graduation day. I had earned it.

NHS was not just about having good grades. NHS was also about community involvement. It was an organization that you could not be a member of in name only. You had to work for it. A certain number of community service hours had to be completed each month. Regular club projects were held. It demanded a certain level of character to be a member.

I did my community service, much like a vast majority of members, volunteering at the local public library. Each month I had to work a certain number of hours after school — shelving books, straightening book shelves, and doing whatever task the librarian had for me that day. This could get pretty hard to do in the busy months between band practice, UIL competitions, assignment deadlines, and other activities. I somehow pulled it off every month, though. And I must admit, I have a LOT of respect for libraries and their employees after that!!

One of our biggest projects each year was when NHS members had a “play day” and picnic with students in Special Education. Those picnics put a LOT into perspective for everyone, and it left me feeling really good at the end of the day. It taught me to be grateful for all my natural blessings. It taught compassion and respect. It gave wonder and love for a fellow human, a fellow student.

So often our Special Education students are locked away and hidden from sight. Our brightest, fastest, prettiest, and most popular take the spotlight time and time again. The picnic made those Special Education students stand out in the spotlight for the day and showed them to truly be special… showed them to need and deserve our love and respect.

All organizations taught lessons that couldn’t be taught in the classroom. Its in that fact that I am so grateful to have had the opportunity to be a member of so many organizations and activities.

#8 – UIL

When I moved to Nashville, I received a harsh reality. UIL is a Texas-only thing. This was something I did not know, and I now feel compelled to attempt to explain what, exactly, UIL is.

Directly from the UIL web-site:

The University Interscholastic League was created by The University of Texas at Austin to provide leadership and guidance to public school debate and athletic teachers. Since 1909 the UIL has grown into the largest inter-school organization of its kind in the world. [...] The purpose of the UIL is to organize and properly supervise contests that assist in preparing students for citizenship. It aims to provide healthy, character building, educational activities carried out under rules providing for good sportsmanship and fair play for all participants. (link)

So, long story short, UIL over sees the competitions (both athletic and academic) between public schools in Texas, and it decides what school districts are in what district/region/area, etc.  When you participate in UIL, you’re participating in some event overseen by the organization.

My collection of medals from UIL events

I participated in UIL academics starting in third grade with “Ready Writing.” I competed writing papers based on a given prompt in a given amount of time through eighth grade.

In high school, I was introduced to UIL Journalism. For all four years of high school, I competed in News Writing, Feature Writing and Headline Writing.

My freshman year was, without a doubt, my most successful year. Beginners luck, perhaps. Or perhaps it was because it was new and I just gave it more time and effort perfecting the skills needed to compete at the top level. I won third place in both Headline Writing and News Writing at the District Level. I took fourth in Feature Writing that same year, and advanced to Regionals as an alternate in that competition.

That was the last year that my district participated in Regional competition in Kingsville, Texas. A five hour drive by car… a seven hour drive by school bus. We all piled onto the bus — atleast two to a seat, plus luggage in the Spring Texas heat. By the end of that drive, I’m not sure ANYONE was getting along with one another anymore.

However, at the end of that long bus ride laid some of my best memories of my freshman year.

Three girls in one King-size bed. Up late watching Nick-at-Nite (back when it was really good) and “Blue Lagoon.” Fatigue giving way to dumb jokes, “Lee King Bucket” and “Bessie the Heifer” for my two friends who will get that. A hambuger and fries for breakfast. And competition on the Texas A&M University – Kingsville campus.

I took fourth place in News Writing this time… once again an alternate for the next level of competition: State. Headline Writing was the last competition of the Journalism contests that day. A friend who competed in Editorial Writing had advanced to State already, and she claimed she wouldn’t go if I wasn’t going as well.

Time came for the announcement and we went in search for the rankings. I couldn’t find them in the area we thought they would be…

You know those moments in time in which everything just seems to go into slow motion? That is how it was, when I heard my name called down the hall and I turned to see my friend coming straight at me with #1 held up on her hand. I remember screaming and suddenly being tackled in big bear hugs… not sure if I should cry or dance around. First place at Regional Level. I was going to STATE!!!!

A few weeks later, I was climbing into the backseat of my sponsor’s car, heading to Austin, Texas. The school put us up in a very (VERY!) nice hotel in downtown Austin and we had a fantastic dinner the night before competition.

3A Second Place State Medal

The next day, I found myself right in the middle of the University of Texas campus, and I have to say: it is a beautiful campus! I ended up spending the whole day on campus due to the timing of my competition. But at the end of the day, I walked away holding the second place, silver medal for all of 3A schools in Headline Writing.

I would never again make it to State competition in my high school career. I made it to Regionals again twice — my sophomore and my senior year. My Sophomore year, I placed fifth in news writing, failing to advance. Then, in a cruel twist of fate, Regional competition in 1999 was the same day as my Senior Prom. Luckily it was on the Blinn Campus in Brenham, Texas. An easy hour and a half drive from home, and the school approved my driving myself to the competition. However, my mind was not on the competition at hand, and I failed to place at all.

I still have my medals on display in my office to remind myself of the things I can succeed in doing if I just put my mind to it. Successes that are now over 10 years old till drive me forward.

I, personally, think other states could learn a lot from the University Interscholastic League. The competitions it sponsors challenge students, offering both the sweet taste of success and the bitter pill of failure. It offers the chance to interact with students from all areas of the state and all walks of life while also giving many a chance to see areas of the state they’d never see otherwise (like I’d have never gone to Kingsville!).

UIL definitely offered to me many, many wonderful memories and stands as one of my favorite things about my high school career.

#9 – Colorguard & Band

Setting up for band photo -- 1998

I still clearly remember going to pep rallies in elementary school and staring at the girls with the flags with great big hearts in my eyes. I was going to be a flag girl some day. I had to be. This was an important endeavor in my life. It was the be-all, end-all.

To be a member of the Flag Corp (or Colorguard as we came to refer to it later), you had to be a member of band. So when the decision came in fifth grade to be in band or not, the answer was a no-brainer. Yes! Yes! Yes!

I ended up playing flute in band. Throw out your best “American Pie” joke here, if you must, but, I played flute and low and behold I was dang good at it! My freshman year of high school, I quickly advanced into the top few chairs of the flute section. In fact at the end of the year, I sat second chair below a graduating senior. I was poised to become section leader, but my dream remained to be a flag.

Finally eligible to try out, I still remember the day that flag pole first landed in my hands. It was quickly discovered I had a natural talent for it! Nonetheless, I practiced and practiced. Few things had ever been this important to me.

It was quickly assumed I was a shoo-in, and I was on cloud nine. I was so close I could taste it. I was practically already being measured for my new uniform.

Friends hanging out in the band hall -- 1996

Tryout day came. I was in one of the last groups to go in to try out. I was a total basket-case. Fundamentals were simple and I nailed those. Then we had to perform a routine.

I still remember the routine was to, “What’s Going On” by 4 Non Blondes. The music started. No one has ever crashed and burned as spectacularly as I did. The routine I could do in my sleep became this huge impossible task to my arms. My timing was off. My mind could not get the next part right. There was no saving myself. I walked out defeated.

I obviously didn’t make the squad that year.

I was, in a word, heartbroken. In my mind, my whole life hinged on becoming a flag. I had talked to my mom at length about how important it was to happen for me. I really could not comprehend NOT being a flag… and yet here I was a sophomore and not a flag.

My talents playing flute quickly threw me into playing piccolo. A whole new level of torture and complement all wrapped into one shrill, tiny instrument. I wasn’t a flag, and life went on nonetheless. I found successes elsewhere, but my heart still longed to accomplish that dream. Another year passed and try outs came back around.

Once again, my natural talent for performing, flag in hand, came out. This year, though, it wasn’t so life-and-death to become a flag. I went into it with a clearer head and a whole new level of confidence. I went in knowing I knew how to do this. I went in knowing I was good. I went in knowing the world would not end if for some reason I once again failed.

Performing with the Colorguard -- 1998

The day of try-outs I went home sick from school. (I later went to the doctor to learn I had a nasty case of the flu.) I came back to school that afternoon to try out nonetheless. I had a 100 degree temperature, and I still remember laying down in the hallway outside the gym in total misery. I was so sick, and yet I went into the gym, tried out with all my heart, and I made the squad ranked third in line from the top.

I was ecstatic, but also a lot more respectful of what it meant than I would have been had I gotten my dream the first time around. I took it a lot more seriously.

The next two years, I performed during football season as a member of the Colorguard, and I spent the second semester still playing my flute.

My senior year, our half-time show was “A Chorus Line” and the Colorguard did the high kicks. I still remember the night we did the full show at half time. I still remember it all coming together so perfectly. I still remember the standing ovation we received from the stands upon doing our high kicks. I still remember that rush. Its one of those feelings a person never forgets.

Band and Colorguard took up probably a solid half of my high school career. You can call me a band nerd, I don’t care. The experiences I had in that organization molded me into who I am more than most things ever did in my life.

Playing flute after a parade -- 1999

My failure to make flags my freshman year taught me the taste of defeat and to not put so much emphasis on some that arbitrary. But my determination to try again the next year showed me how to never give up on a dream.

My time spent as captain my senior year taught me elements of leadership that can be ugly but also rewarding. It taught me to stand up for myself and for the people who were depending on me. It taught me elements of being an adult that to this day I rely upon.

Playing music in band definitely taught me a lot about music and all its dynamics. I definitely have leaned upon those fundamentals since marrying a musician and music literally becoming my life. And the friendships I nurtured through my days in band are some of the friendships I still have today. The memories and laughter, the victories and the not-as-great-as-we-hopeds, the pride and disappointment. These are all memories and lessons that I cherish deeply.