Family – Page 4 – gregoryjoel.com

Children, Community, Dogs, Down On the Farm, Events, Family, Grandchildren, History, Hope, Recovery, Rodeos, Storytelling, Texas, Thoughts From the Porch

Birthdays and Fat Livestock

January 21, 2024 gregoryjoel

The 16^th would’ve been Dad’s 99^th birthday. I’ve been thinking of him a lot this week. I always think about his words of wisdom and his love for his family, but January 16^th is extra special. For the last ten or fifteen years of his life he worked with his friend Jesse at the Fort Worth Stock Show & Rodeo every year. It was an annual tradition that always kept us from celebrating his birthday until the second week of February.

Starting a week before the show opened, he would work twelve-hour days until the show was over by the second week of February. I couldn’t understand why he would work so much for close to minimum wage without a day off. That is, until I spent part of the day with him.

There are a couple of things you need to know about the Fort Worth Stock Show and Rodeo. First, it’s the oldest continuously running stock show in the United States. The formal name is the Southwest Exposition and Stock Show. It had its humble beginnings in 1896 to show the local citizens the livestock local cattlemen produced. Its stated aim was primarily educational and soon became an annual event. In 1907, the Stock Show charged admission for the first time – twenty-five cents – and in 1908 moved into the palatial Northside Coliseum in the Fort Worth Stockyards. Rodeos are still held there today on a weekly basis with kids admitted free or half-price making a fun family event.

In 1918, the first “World’s Original Indoor Rodeo” was held as a “strictly a contest” and the name “Southwest Exposition and Fat Stock Show” became the official event name. The only time the event has been cancelled was in 1943 when all America’s resources went to the war effort. In 1944 the stock show was moved to the Will Rogers Coliseum built for the Texas Centennial in 1936 where the stock show has remained (with massive infrastructure improvements) to this day. The Rodeo competition has been moved to the new Dickies Arena on the Stock Show grounds.

The year I was born, 1958, was the first year the event was televised. I don’t remember the first time my dad took me to the Stock Show and Rodeo, but it became an annual event for my dad and I. My grandmother worked as a seamstress for Mr. Wimberly, who owned the Army Store, a surplus store in downtown Fort Worth. Mr. Wimberly saw to it that we received tickets every year. He also raised, and showed, champion Appaloosa horses. Rustler Bill was a National Champion and I got to “ride” him every year. That is, I got to sit on him while Mr. Wimberly walked me through the stables. It was a young cowboy’s dream!

My childhood memories are sparse, but I always remember the Stock Show and Rodeo. The first memory was of Zippy the monkey and his Scottish Sheepdog. Zippy would ride around the arena at full speed and then stop and herd sheep. How could anyone forget a monkey cowboy?

from the FWSSR Archives

In 1969, my dad was transferred to Denver, Colorado. We tried attending the Denver National Western Stock Show, but it just wasn’t the same. We went three or four times to no avail and soon, I never went again.

Fast forward to 1986 when I moved home to Fort Worth. I was going through a divorce and had custody of my two boys, Adrian and Jeremy. My dad must have known a cure for the break-up blues because a month after we moved back our annual trips to the Stock Show began again. This time it was to establish a tradition for the boys.

My father had started working the Stock Show every year with his lifetime friend Jesse. The boys and I would walk to his little shed by the gate, talk with Dad and Jesse, and walk through the livestock barns and exhibit halls. Because the vendors used Dad’s gate, we got a lot of free food for the three-week run of the show. I’ve never had so much pizza, barbeque, and Mrs. Baird’s pastries in my life. The boys loved it. Dad would keep them supplied in sweets every Saturday for the rest of the year, at least until Jeremy told my mom about the “diet” ice cream they ate. The tradition lived on until the boys got older and my addiction kept me away from the things I always loved.

The boys went their separate ways. Jeremy became a respected artist and wasn’t much interested in the old, Fort Worth tradition. Adrian must’ve received more of the cowboy DNA because he trained cutting horses and worked a ranch for several years. Today he serves the veteran community with One Tribe Foundation.

I don’t know how many years Dad worked those four weeks in the winter each year. He and Jesse both decided to retire when they both encountered some health issues. It wasn’t long before Dad passed. I didn’t get clean and into recovery until a couple of years later. If I had not had a father that loved me like Dad, I’m not sure I would’ve even gotten clean. If Dad, a mere human could radiate love and grace as he did, how much more so could a loving God.

I tried to continue the tradition with my grandkids, but it’s been sporadic at best. They’re just not into it. I guess wanting to be a cowboy isn’t in the aspirations of their generation. Why would they? There are no John Waynes anymore, tractors aren’t sexy, and ranching (and farming) seem to be an old people thing. The average age for a farmer in Texas is sixty-two. I tell everyone I’m finally above average at something.

I attend the Stock Show and Rodeo today to honor Dad and carry on an old Fort Worth tradition. I think of him while I’m there and remember so many wonderful things from long ago. I don’t go every year – the farm and weather change my plans more than they used to. Plus, crowds are getting harder to deal with as I’ve gotten older. Quite frankly, the crowds aren’t the same. Stock show attendance reaches record crowds almost every year. A lot of folks have moved to Fort Worth over the last few years, and they don’t always feel the tradition like native Fort Worthians do.

I also love to go with Ms. Opal to the Cowboys of Color Rodeo. In 2001, Jim Austin founded the National Multicultural Western Heritage Museum in the historic stockyards. In 2010, Fort Worth finally got around to honoring and recognizing the rich heritage of the Black and Brown community to both the city and the West by holding the first Cowboys of Color Rodeo. Ms. Opal has shared a history of Fort Worth I was never taught in my all-white schools. I’m thrilled to learn a history so rich that I might’ve missed had it not been for my work with her and Unity Unlimited. Inc. I hope to share the same with others. Full history brings us to reconciliation and justice.

Bad Weather, Choices, Climate Change, Community, Connection, Creation, Down On the Farm, Events, Family, Farmers Markets, Goodness, Grace, Gratitude, Hope, Letting Go, Marginalized, Non-Profits, Opal's Farm, Pets, Positive Thinking, Prayer, Preparation, Regeneration, Relationships, Rescue Animals, Service Organizations, Service to Others, Spirituality, Texas, Thoughts From the Porch, Trinity River, Unity Unlimited, Inc., Urban Farming

Burrrr…

January 14, 2024 gregoryjoel

The scene beyond my window is rather drab. A blast of cold Arctic air exploded across North Texas yesterday afternoon. It brought with it the cutting icy North wind that plagues the Southern plains every winter. The “feels like” temperatures this morning were in the single digits and they’re predicting eighty-plus hours below freezing and sleet for this evening. Folks in these parts are understandably nervous. Ice brings out the worst in Texas drivers and the memory of Winter Storm Uri in 2021 is still fresh to anyone who lived here then. The power grid crashed, Texans went for days without power and water, and 246 people died from storm-related issues.

Last year saw a major ice storm at the end of January. We were at the Texas Organic Farmers and Gardeners Association Conference in Dallas and left early because of the roads. One of our employees ended up staying at the motel that night. One night turned into a week. Texans do not do well in cold weather. It doesn’t storm often but when it does look out!

Fortunately, we’ve had ample time to prepare for this Arctic visitor. Store shelves are empty of non-perishables and bottled water. Gas tanks are full and homes lucky enough to have a generator are standing by. People take the weather forecast a bit more seriously since the winter of ’21.

( Opal’s Farm and the frozen Trinity River February 2021 )

Personally, I haven’t had much time to prepare our house. I still must make a run to Home Depot. My neighbor said they had some outdoor faucet covers hidden in the back of the store. Information like that is like finding gold. We try to take care of each other in our neighborhood. I have, however, taken steps to prepare Opal’s Farm the best we can to save our winter crops. Frost cloth has been double-spread on the bio-intensive section and several of the hundred-foot rows. Prayers have been said, fingers have been crossed, and if I had a rabbit’s foot, I’m sure I’d be holding it close. We’ll keep you posted…

On a lighter, and somewhat warmer note (it was cool but warmer yesterday), we moved Opal’s Farm Stand hours to Saturday afternoons from 1:30 PM to 4:00 PM. We found his to be more convenient for our neighbors and the traffic on Sylvania isn’t rushing between jobs. We had several customers yesterday afternoon. This complements our mornings at Cowtown Farmers Market and our delivery for Hao’s Grocery and Café. We can harvest once a week to bring quality fresh produce to our community.

Anyway…

My fur-babies don’t seem to be bothered by the single-digit temperatures. They are out running around and playing as I sit here. Sitting here watching them got me to thinking about this blog. I’ve always called it “Thoughts From the Porch” because that was the place my thoughts and coffee ran freely since this journey began. I no longer spend my mornings on the front porch. It’s not because it’s cold. When you smoke it really doesn’t matter if it’s the summer Texas heat or the winter freeze, you’re driven to suffer outside.

However, that changed on November 1^st of last year. That’s the day I quit smoking. I’ve been cigarette-less since then. The cravings have become less severe most of the time. The operative word being “most”. Other days – not so much. Staying off the porch has been a good move so here I sit. I still get a good view of the world through the patio door next to my office. It’s a constant reminder of God’s goodness and grace in our lives.

Maybe it’s time to find another name for this? Let me know your thoughts!

Please stay warm and safe through this cold snap. Stay inside, make it a family day or a day of introspection. Enjoy the time and pray the lights don’t go out…

Advent, Bible, Birthdays, Children, Choices, Christmas, Courage, Depression, Emotional Health, Faith, Family, Generations, Grace, Grandchildren, Grief, Hope, Love, Parents, Peace, Prayer, Recovery, Relationships, Service to Others, Spirituality, Stories, The Holidays, Thoughts From the Porch

Christmas 2023

December 3, 2023 gregoryjoel

Time goes by far too quickly these days. It’s difficult to believe that December is here. It seems like I was planning Spring crops just a short while ago. It’s almost time to do so again. The seventy-five-degree high predicted is a reminder of that. Just so you all know, we still have tomatoes at Opal’s Farm. The first freeze hasn’t hit us yet. We get the “heat island” effect from being so close to downtown…

Today is one month since my last cigarette so I guess I can’t really call this “Thoughts From the Porch”. I’ve stayed away from the front porch and concentrated on the back yard outside my office. It helps with the cravings. The main thing that helps with the cravings though is the near-constant praying to stay smoke-free. So far, so good, and so much for the news updates…

The holidays are tough for me. My son, Jeremy, was born on Christmas Day. I’ve had difficulty with the holidays since his passing – so much so that my wife started calling me the Grinch last year. I try to show some Christmas spirit but I’m not successful at faking it. I’m hoping I can do better this year.

I’ve been especially blessed to be far more involved in my grandchildren’s life this past year. I’ve been able to spend more time with them than ever before. I’m not always sure they appreciate it as much now as they’re both young teenagers – why is it teenagers rarely give more than one-word answers?

Spending time with them is such a gift and sometimes, a curse – at least where grief is concerned.

They are both very much Jeremy’s children. Lucas looks so much like him that it brings tears sometimes. His mannerisms are – a constant reminder of Jeremy. Izabella, or Simone as Jeremy called (her middle name is Simone after Nina Simone) has every bit of his wit and often, sarcasm. Together they are amazing. My daughter-in-law, Amber, has done an amazing job raising them and getting them through losing their dad. She and I can share our grief that still comes in tidal waves at times.

But back to Christmas…

I’ve had a lackluster approach to Christmas since my parents passed away, especially Dad. He was Mister Christmas. It was his favorite holiday. He made the season special; especially where my boys were concerned. Much of that had to do with my parenting or lack thereof and my addiction had a lot to do with that. Still, he was my Christmas light and I enjoyed participating each year.

After his passing, Christmas was not as big of a deal. My mom moved to an apartment in a Senior Living Center so big celebrations rarely occurred. The last years before she passed in 2017 she moved to Atlanta to be near my sister. I always hated the idea of trying to find a gift for Mom. She was extremely hard to buy for and her body language often revealed her disappointment in my gifts. (***side note – she told me that my sobriety and my relationship with God were the best gifts I could’ve ever given her.)

When Jeremy died, the best thing about Christmas became January 2^nd as it would be in the past and I had survived what felt like unbearable grief. I’ve shared that with my wife (as if she couldn’t tell) and she’s always been understanding. This year has been different. I came home from work the other day and she told me that I needed to become Mister Christmas. It was my turn. Dad and Jeremy were no longer there, and the tradition shouldn’t die with them. My grandkids needed me to be that very thing. I think my wife needs that too.

Christmas was never a religious holiday for me. I grew up in the Church of Christ and they didn’t celebrate it as Jesus’ birthday because that’s not in the Bible – which begets the question why they didn’t celebrate Easter because we know what that date is, but I digress… It was significant to my wife though and now the holiday needs to be special for my grandkids as well.

When I finish writing this, I will climb the attic stairs and pull down the Christmas tree and decorations. I’ll rearrange the living room to accommodate the tree and place it where Margaret, my wife, can enjoy looking at it. It’s likely I’ll shed a few tears as I place Jeremy’s ornaments – both the ones he made and the ones we were given over the years – on the tree. I’ll brave the tangle of lights and let Margaret direct the decorating. Afterwards, I’ll turn on the lights for all of us and pray that I can be Mister Christmas this year. I’ll swallow my sadness and allow the grief to come when I’m alone. Christmas is about everyone else anyway and I’ll not deny them that.

I won’t lie about my feelings. God made sure of that. I was at a recovery meeting recently and met two other people for whom grief is all too real. One gentleman lost his wife. The other lost her seventeen-year-old son to an overdose in May. I can seriously relate, and I can offer support and an ear because I’ve three years of experience to offer. I don’t have any answers, but I can be present for them while they search for their own. God has a way of turning tragedy into something – I don’t want to say something positive – but an opportunity to show His love and grace – to love others better.

My sponsor and friend Jim told me a long time ago that helping others and being there for others was the best way to find peace. Maybe that’s what comes this year. I hope and pray it comes for all of us.

Merry Christmas everyone…