Category: Relationships

Children, Choices, Consequences, Emotional Health, Family, Generations, Grandchildren, Grief, Recovery, Relationships, Storytelling, Thoughts From the Porch, What Can I Do, Writing

The Way It Was…

gregoryjoel

It’s hard to believe September is already here. Labor Day is the unofficial beginning of Fall so the temperatures here have dropped to the nineties instead of the triple digits and we might even celebrate Labor Day with some rain. I’m hoping but it is Texas after all…

I haven’t written much lately. The heat and oppressive humidity dulled the thinking, and work has taken all the energy I may have. Getting out of sweat-soaked clothes and laying in front of the air conditioning has been norm the last month or so. It’s also the end of our fiscal year at work so evenings are filled with year-end reports and audits. It’s rare to stay awake through the ten pm weather report but that’s okay. The forecast doesn’t change in August. It’s just going to be hot and dry.

My youngest grandkids started school in the middle of last month. Things have changed since I was young. The school year started the day after Labor Day and ended the day before Memorial Day. We didn’t have Monday holidays, so we celebrated them on whatever day of the week they fell on. It seems a bit cruel to send kids back to school while the swimming pools are still open, but I digress…

I have had the privilege of picking my grandkids up from school for a couple of years now. My oldest, Baillie, is working in Alaska, but both of the others are in high school, although they attend different schools. Lucas is close enough to walk to and from Pascal High School where he’s a freshman this year. I get to pick him up on the days he stays late.

Izabella was accepted into the Visual Performing Arts program at I.M. Terrell Academy, which is only two minutes away from the farm. I.M. Terrell was the black high school for many years in Fort Worth when schools were still segregated. Moreover, it’s Ms. Opal Lee’s alma mater. She’s thrilled that Iza is there. It hasn’t hurt Iza that her father works for Terrell’s most famous alumnus.

I’m reminded daily how much I love my grandkids and how much I miss their father. He would (and I’m sure that on another plane he is) be so proud of them. I hope he would be proud of me as well for being there for them. I often wasn’t there for him when he was that age. Addiction has stolen so much from us. It stole both my son’s father and my grandkid’s father. The only difference is that I get the opportunity to make living amends. Jeremy, my son, lost that opportunity on May 29th, 2020.

It’s been four years since he passed. His car still sits in my driveway: another daily reminder that I keep meaning to get to someone else, but still find hard to let go of. Grief has its own timeline. While the daily intensity of the emotion has lessened to a point, there are still days when I retreat by myself to the end of the farm to have a good cry. I don’t feel as overwhelmed as I did in the months after his death, but I still grieve. I know grief’s a process and I’m told by others that have lost children that it doesn’t ever go away. It simply changes.

I have a fellow blogger friend, Mitch, who shares his real memoirs from time to time. I enjoy reading them. I’ve often thought I should share my own stories in some way. Jeremy once told me that he and I should write a book. “Dad, no one would believe that crazy shit”, he’d tell me. Life was certainly not dull, at least outwardly. As my own addiction progressed, life became an extremely dull routine of using, finding ways and means to get more, and repeating the process over and over with greater consequences and self-hatred.

Jeremy and I found a way out and shared that path for several years until he ventured down his own path that included relapsing into active addiction. I stayed on the recovery pathway and prayed that Jeremy would join me once again. He did from time to time but couldn’t seem to stay. I miss him terribly.

I thought that maybe I too, should share some stories – crazy as they may be – in hopes that someone relates and maybe, just maybe, it can make a difference in their journey as I’m sure it will in mine. I still don’t know what to call them. It would be inappropriate to call them my “real memoir” – don’t want to step on anyone’s toes – but they are real and definitely a time of remembering. Maybe writing will ease the grief and make some sense out of the craziness.

Look for them from time to time and pray to keep me honest. One of my favorite lines from a recovery book I read frequently is that “Honesty is the antidote to our diseased thinking”.

Maybe the stories will reflect that…

Community, Connection, Creation, Down On the Farm, Environment, Faith, God's Economics, Gratitude, Neighbors, Non-Profits, Opal's Farm, Regeneration, Relationships, Service Organizations, Service to Others, Simplicity, Spirituality, Thoughts From the Porch, Urban Farming

The Gang is Back

gregoryjoel

July is almost over, and this may well be only the second time I’ve posted this month. We’ve been unseasonably cool (and wet!) off and on this summer. We are below our twenty-four triple digit days average. We’re enjoying the cooler weather, since August is right around the corner. It’s the hottest month of the year here so anytime it’s below a hundred degrees it’s a pleasant cool summer day…

The national news and the upcoming General Election have garnered the public’s attention over the last couple of weeks. I’d love to chime in on that front, but lately I’ve found I simply need to concentrate on what’s right in front of me and turn off the political noise that surrounds me – for my own sanity. I still plan to exercise my civic duty and vote – which I hope each one of you does – but I need to step back, turn on the music instead of National Public Radio, and spend my days working and enjoying the beauty of the farm, friends, and family.

We get to see some beautiful birds at the farm. A Great Blue Heron couple has made their nest somewhere on the overgrown sandbar south of the farm. Snowy Egrets frequent the banks of the Trinity looking for fish and small marine animals. We have a Cooper’s Hawks that lives close by (that eliminates the bird threat to our tomatoes) and even a Bald Eagle that comes around (although extremely infrequently).

Twice a year, usually during Spring and Fall planting, the Cattle Egrets, the Cowbirds as we always called them, drop in to eat the small insects that preparing for planting and turning beds usually brings out. They are much smaller than their Snowy brothers, and always come in groups – sometimes three or four groups on different areas of the farm and they’re always entertaining. Their little tan mohawk pops up and their jowls vibrate every time I come close.

Inevitably, there is always one outlier, one whose curiosity outweighs his fear, and always sticks around when the rest of the flock (which seems to be more like a gang!) flies away. He’ll follow me to see what’s going on and often looks at me as if saying “What’s up?”. I am under no illusion – I anthropomorphize our feathery friends – and it’s probably all in my imagination, but hey, I worked alone at the farm for a long time before Joey, Greg, and the guys came. I found my community amongst my wild feathery and furry friends.

One of the things I love about Opal’s Farm is the relationship we have with the wildlife on and around the farm. I take pride in knowing that our animal friends fit right into the environment we labor in. Each has an important place in how the farm operates – even what most consider to be pests. Don’t get me wrong: a pest is a problem, but nature has a way of dealing with them if we just let it take its course.

We have a ton of field mice at the farm. Most are field rats, but I call them mice because that’s what our volunteers would rather hear. There’s nothing more frustrating than picking a gorgeous watermelon or cantaloupe and finding a large hole in the bottom where a mouse had dinner. However, we lose more melons to two-legged predators than we do to mice and rats because we have coyotes, bobcats, rat snakes, and hawks that keep the rodent population manageable. When the ecosystem is in balance it takes care of itself.

We choose regenerative agriculture precisely for this reason. Nature does a far better job of keeping things in check than any chemical pest or weed control can ever do. It doesn’t have negative consequences either. Most of all, I get to enjoy it every day and be thankful to a creator that already took care of any problems I have in this regard. What a way to live life.

I’m getting ready to head to the farm again. I’m grateful for the rain we’ve had in July, but the reality is that it just isn’t enough during any North Texas summer. I’ll run the irrigation, prep a couple of beds, and hope my Egret friends drop by…

(An important aside – my wife’s father passed away on Friday. I’ll most likely be gone a couple of days this week. If you’re a praying person, please offer some prayers for my wife, Margaret, and her family.)

4th of July, Community, Connection, Down On the Farm, Emotional Health, Events, Faith, Family, Fireworks, Gratitude, Marginalized, Non-Profits, Quotes, Relationships, Revival, Simplicity, Social Justice, Spirituality, Thoughts From the Porch, Trinity River, Unity Unlimited, Inc., Urban Farming

Post Cookout Thoughts

gregoryjoel


It’s been a month since I’ve been able to sit down and write. I’ve tried several times mind you, but June is not conducive to writing time. Juneteenth activities and events begin at the end of May and conclude with the Volunteer Appreciation Picnic on July 4th. I hope everyone had a wonderful Juneteenth and 4th of July. Ms. Opal always reminds us that freedom needs to be for everyone – the oppressed and the oppressor – and celebrations should go on from Juneteenth until July 4th.

I rarely get a moment to simply stop and take in the annual 4th of July Volunteer Appreciation Cookout. It’s in it’s fifth year and I’ve never witnessed the fireworks show. I’m usually trying to get cleaned up so I can go home soon after the show is over. It’s a holiday for most folks, but a really long workday for me. Still, I love to take a moment to look at the crowd of folks that come each year. I find joy in that moment as I see the diversity and joy of life in it all.

I look across the crowd and smile. It’s an example for what our neighborhoods and communities could be the other 364 days a year. There are no racial or ethnic barriers, no religious or cultural barriers. Class doesn’t keep people separate from one another. It’s simply a great evening to be shared by everyone. Food and fireworks are great unifiers. Although I’m usually worn out from a long day of preparation and grilling, I really don’t want it to end. Reality hits as the parking lot empties and it will probably be another 365 days until our little community can enjoy another day together.

I need to have the image of unity even if it is only one day of the year. I need the hope that one day we as a people can move beyond the deep divisions that perpetuate the “Us” and “Them” mentality. I need to be reminded that it’s possible for us to experience real community without regard to race, sexual preference, disability, class, or political affiliations. Otherwise, I succumb to a serious case of the “F*** it’s”. I stand on the line between apathy and empathy a lot these days.

Watching the picnic remined me of the prophet Isaiah’s vision of a world where human relationships are rooted in God’s presence:

I will rejoice in Jerusalem

And delight in my people;

No more will the sound of weeping be heard in it,

Or the cry of distress.

No more shall there be in it an infant that lives but a few days,

Or an old person who does not live out a lifetime:…

Before they call I will answer,

While they are yet speaking I will hear.

The wolf and the lamb shall feed together,

The lion shall eat straw like an ox:

But the serpent – its food will be dust!

They shall not hurt or destroy

On all my holy mountain, says the Lord.

                                                                                                Isaiah 65.19-20, 24-25

I live with the hope that day is coming. For now, I’ll enjoy our day of food and fun…



Community, Faith, Grace, Hope, Juneteenth, Quotes, Relationships, Spirituality

A Juneteenth Thought

gregoryjoel

“God is making room in my heart for compassion: the awareness that where my life begins is where your life begins; the awareness that … your needs cannot be separated from … my needs; the awareness that the joys of my heart are never mine alone—nor are my sorrows. I struggle against the work of God in my heart; I want to be let alone. I want my boundaries to remain fixed, that I may be at rest. But even now, as I turn to [God] in the quietness, [God’s] work in me is ever the same… God is at work enlarging the boundaries of my heart.” – Howard Thurman, Meditations of the Heart (Boston, MA: Beacon Press, 1953, 1981), 49

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Spring Visitors

gregoryjoel

Our tomatoes are in! They loved all the rain this Spring and the May sun was the perfect topper for a great first week of tomatoes. We’ll have big harvests over the next few weeks so come out and see us at Cowtown Farmers Market and Opal’s Farm Stand.

I had company at the farm this week. We think she’s one of the coyote pups from last Spring. (Sorry I’m such a lousy photographer but I was on a running and vibrating tractor!) This young lady came and spent most of the day with me as I made way for the last succession planting of watermelon and cantaloupe. She stayed about ten feet away all day but was fascinated by the tractor. She kept a sharp eye out for any field mice that ran out as I prepared the beds.

I’m so glad we have a symbiotic relationship with the wild animals that come to the farm. Moreover, I’m really happy they feel safe enough to be there. It speaks to me of the peaceful spirit that exists there. Have a great week!