Not so random stories…Posted: August 31, 2008
See that picture in my header? I took that. We were sitting in a charming little public park in Golden, Colorado. We were in our comfy, fold-out camp chairs (Mine proudly sports the Texas flag) surrounded by locals, tourists, young and old. Many of us brought our dogs, and they seemed to be just as happy to socialize as the humans. Even our two little loud-mouths. The sun was just setting and as a cool, damp breeze whispered through the shimmery leaves of the cottonwood tree we’d settled under, I looked up between a couple of branches to see the moon watching us all. I felt lucky to get the shot. Something about the view made me feel calm and content, and I like remembering that when I look at this picture. I remember all the people having fun, eating snow-cones or hot dogs, visiting with one another and watching out for each other’s kids as they played in the soft, green grass on a beautiful summer evening in the Rockies. Thunder rolled and echoed off of the mountains as we watched the clouds go around us, and we were only sprinkled with a little bit of rain. Not nearly enough to dampen the spirits of the crowd, or deflate the enthusiasm of the band that rocked on the stage in front of the inflatable movie screen.
It was a great night.
I remember my Granny, whose birthday is Tuesday, telling me a story about one of their travels.
Once, she, Papa, Uncle B and Mom were on a family trip when they stopped at a cafe for a bite to eat. Soon after they’d settled in at their table, a Black man came in with a baby’s bottle and asked the proprietor if they would warm it so their child could have something to eat. The owner refused. Upon witnessing that exchange, my Papa and Granny gathered up their own children, gave the cafe owner a piece of their mind and left.
Granny is gone now, but I’m thankful she left that story to us. And that the lesson was taught to my Mom and uncle so well that they passed it on.
When my Daddy was a young boy, his family lived in South Texas where his father helped one of his brothers run a diner. Daddy told us he remembered one time when a group of soldiers came in to eat, his father wouldn’t serve the Black soldiers inside, instead telling them they could eat “out back” if they wanted to eat at all.
Daddy told us how ashamed he was of his father’s behavior that day.
Thanks to that lesson, Daddy always made sure we treated all people with respect, regardless of their color.
Daddy’s Dad was also German. I think this partly factored into why Dad was so interested in studying WWII and the terror reign of Hitler. Dad shared his fascination of history with us, and taught us, without candy-coating it, the atrocities committed against the Jews and minorities by that regime.
All during our growing up years, we watched my Mom check groceries, and deal with people of all kinds. She taught us how to be respectful and treat people with grace and dignity. An example she still teaches us today.
For that, I am thankful.
And I’m thankful that because of all this and more, I am grateful to be the person I am today. And that I can share life with so many people under the moon…..