Landmarks and Comfort Zones

From the Heart
by Raenell Wynn Smith

How many times have you come home (in my case Childress and for many of you Childress is still considered your home as well), and find things that once were there are gone. Over the past few months some of my "landmarks" are missing. I feel I am blessed by living in the town where I grew up and being able to drive down streets and remember times past by focusing in on a "landmark".

Childress Veterans War Memorial at Childress County Courthouse
Photo by Billy Hathorn, Licensed under Wikipedia Commons


Recently one of the landmarks in my life has been torn down - The First Baptist Church Parsonage once located adjacant to The First Baptist Church. Memories of that two story house are fond ones. Growing up as a young child and attending FBC sunday school and youth activities, we often played in that yard. When Jim and I decided to get married, Bro. Joe Allen and his sweet wife Lavonna resided in the parsonage as he was the pastor of FBC. We had made plans to marry in their home. The evening arrived and we were disappointed to find that Bro. Joe had taken ill and was unable to perform the ceremony. We then, being anxious and not letting anything like that keep us from our destiny, traveled to Quanah and were married by the Justice of The Peace at the Courthouse. Just recently we celebrated our 45th anniversay. Mike Erhle has a column in the Index at times called "Reflections". He brings back some of those lost "landmarks" that we can draw from our memory bank.

Bobcat Stadium at Childress Fair Park
Photo by Billy Hathorn, Licensed under Creative Commons

People can also be "landmarks". Several come to mind and may come to yours. " Landmarks" - you knew where they were at any given time and that if you chose to go there you would be welcome.

Now, getting to the "Comfort Zones" in my life. Comfort is that favorite pair of blue jeans, possibly worn, tattered, hem unraveled, but fit just right and feel good even if you fall asleep in them, an oversized shirt or T-shirt that doesn't touch you anywhere and you can curl up in if need be, and those old loafers that you can jump into if you just have to go somewhere. When Jo Ann lived here, she was one of my Comfort Zones. We would have what we called a "lost weekend" where we would ride around town talking about who used to live in a particular house and the memories that were made just by knowing those people. And at times just recalling a house or building that stands no more, but we could remember and that was what was important - The Remembering. Then we would spend part of the afternoon, or possibly that early morning drinking coffee and walking down a country road.

Main Street in Childress

A good book can be a comfort zone as well. My favorite is "The Shell Seekers". I've read this one at least 5 times. I guess I like it because the main character returns to a Landmark in her life from when she was a young woman and she lives in what sounds like that Comfort Zone that brings her daily pleasure because she shares it with others.

So, whatever Landmarks you look for to recall old memories and wherever your Comfort Zone is - My wish for you is that you may go there often and each time it is as vivid and as welcoming as the first time.

From My Heart to Yours,

Chances ... Choices ... and Phoenixes....

The Looking Glass
by Jennifer Johnston



Phoenix detail from the Aberdeen Bestiary

I dreamed a dream in time gone by
When hope was high, and life worth living....

Then I was young and unafraid
And dreams were made and used and wasted....

With these lyrics, and a clear soaring voice to carry them, a 47 year old unprepossessing Scotswoman named Susan Boyle recently leaped into the consciousness of millions of people around the world when she appeared on the "reality" television show Britain's Got Talent. As I watched the brief news report, and then the entire YouTube clip of the performance (with comments before and after), it was hard to tell which was more impressive ... Ms. Boyle's mesmerizing rendition of I Dreamed a Dream from Les Misérables, or seeing the condescending smirks wiped off the faces of judges Simon Cowell and Piers Morgan, both known more for their snarky put-downs than for any genuine gifts of their own.

It was an electrifying moment in a cynical exercise in the format of a "talent show" (not unlike its spin-off America's Got Talent or American Idol) which seems to operate in at least equal parts not only to "discover" and recognize unsung (no pun intended) talent, but to poke fun at and humiliate some who seem already wounded by an all-encompassing desperation for acceptance, as well as delusional thinking concerning the amplitude of their abilities. And let's face it ... if the "humiliation" aspect was not intrinsic to the raison d'être for such shows, the egregiously awful train-wreck contestants could easily be edited out before the program is aired, rather than being subjected to mass ridicule. I won't ... and don't ... watch these shows ... although I do confess to great enjoyment of Dancing With the Stars, The Amazing Race (truly an amazing show, as witnessed by its collection of Emmy Awards) and Survivor (something of a "guilty pleasure").

In her conversation with the sardonic judges before she sang, Ms. Boyle was asked by Cowell why, if she had such a fabulous voice, hadn't she been "discovered" previously? Her answer, almost stunning in its simplicity, delivered crisply in her Scots burr, was: "Well, I haven't been getting m'chance, have I?"

And so it is with many who have diverse talents ... gifts of song or other musical abilities, an innate flair for deftly using words to convey deep thoughts and feelings, brilliance at mathematics and other scientific disciplines. The talent is there ... the gifts are there ... but some who possess them frequently never get their chance to use them.

Sometimes getting a chance means taking a chance, as Ms. Boyle did when she stepped onto that stage. But if taking that chance is to have any meaning, come to any sort of good resolution, it is also helpful (if not mandatory) for one to have the clear-eyed ability to appraise oneself and one's situation, to be one's own judge and sharpest critic, and then to make the dispassionate choice that the time is right and the chance is ripe and worth taking. It seems fairly basic that if you can't hit a clear high C (with or without shattering glass) and perhaps go on to mellifluously roam the thin-air stratosphere above that mark, then no matter how much you dream of it, you're not going to be the next Beverly Sills (soprano) or Luciano Pavarotti (tenor), both of whom soared so effortlessly and incandescently within their respective vocal ranges.




Beverly Sills, photograph by Carl Van Vechten (1956)

In addition to being willing to take chances, those who dream (like Ms. Boyle) must also be aware that there are choices which must be made, coolly weighed and assessed and pondered; that sometimes the better, more rational choice is to defer the vision ... the hope, the belief.... Not abandon, but defer, perhaps even for this lifetime ... until time and conditions are right. Taking a reckless chance without understanding the consequences, leaping without thought to reach for early or immediate gratification, may turn out to be the wrong ... even the killing ... choice.

Without apprehending the karmic necessity of first learning the life lessons of love, compassion, empathy, obligation, duty, honor and sacrifice we may fling ourselves heedlessly off the cliff of want and desire, only to find ourselves and our dreams dashed on the unforgiving and unyielding rocks of reality. Then, like Humpty-Dumpty, we are faced with the daunting task of putting our selves together again, when judiciously waiting for a more propitious moment (like when the tide comes in ... grin) might have preserved not only ourselves but our aspirations.

All of us may not get the chance that we want or need in this life. Our choices and choices made by others in fulfilling their karmic obligations may prevent us from that denouement. Peace and wisdom lie in knowing ... in believing, if you will ... that eventually the time will be right and all will be as it should be; that making the right and necessary choices will one day, one lifetime, put "paid" to the glittering dream.

Kent Nerburn, American author (Small Graces: The Quiet Gifts of Everyday Life, and other books), spiritualist, sculptor, theologian and educator (born in 1946), has said: "Remember to be gentle with yourself and others. We are all children of chance and none can say why some fields will blossom while others lay brown beneath the August sun. Care for those around you. Look past your differences. Their dreams are no less than yours, their choices no more easily made. And give, give in any way you can, of whatever you possess. To give is to love. To withhold is to wither. Care less for your harvest than for how it is shared and your life will have meaning and your heart will have peace."



Portrait of Cosette by Emile Bayard
From the original edition of Les Misérables, by Victor Hugo

So let's have another round of applause for the delightful and "different" Susan Boyle ... who dared to dream yet apparently understood that dreams must sometimes be postponed to take care of elderly parents, to complete one's karmic obligations to the past and the present, to learn necessary life lessons, perhaps to know herself more completely ... before she would find her golden chance at a truly golden moment and share her lovely gift with the world.

I Dreamed a Dream is a song of exquisite, devastating pain and longing. Yet when Ms. Boyle sang, it was transformed into an anthem of reflection and resolve and nascent hope for the future, a statement of the capacity for resilience and rebirth in the face of hurt and misery and battered or deferred dreams that was not lost on the skeptical judges and the audience, as demonstrated by the standing ovation at the end of her performance.

Judge Amanda Holden said: "I am so thrilled because I know that everybody was against you. I honestly think that we were all being very cynical, and I think that's the biggest wake-up call ever. And I just want to say that it was a complete privilege listening to that."

Let's also dispense with our cynicism, with being against and/or skeptical of things without understanding them. Let's applaud and encourage (both tacitly and overtly) others like Susan Boyle when we have the opportunity. Let's be gentle and nurturing with the dreamers (including ourselves) and show appreciation for those who truly love and give and abide without expectation of the quick reward.

Let's allow ourselves to believe in the magical thought that there are phoenixes among us who will one day rise from the spent ash of disappointment and regret and heartbreak to spread their glorious wings under a sustaining sun ... who know that one day their time will come, if they are prescient and wise enough to give their lives meaning and bring peace to their hearts and the hearts of others, while they await their chance. For one day, one life, the world they desire will be theirs, and their dreams will be waking, walking, breathing, luminous reality....

As I watched Ms. Boyle perform, I was reminded of my "old friend" William Butler Yeats, who wrote:

With all a woman's passion...
And that proud look as though she had gazed into the burning sun...
I knew a phoenix in my youth, so let them have their day.

)O(

THE VIEW FROM THE FOURTH FLOOR

Written by Driscilla Dehtan Storrs

Four years ago when I applied for the Clerkship Coordinator/Transcriptionist position, most of the interview was conducted in the 4^th floor conference room. The interview was friendly enough, but my gaze kept turning toward the ceiling-to-floor wall-to-wall windows looking to the north from the Tech HSC. The view looked out onto three flagpoles – Tech, U.S. and Texas flags – and the parking lot. Beyond the parking lot were wheat fields, the Rawls Golf Course, and the Texas sky as far as the eye could see. I couldn’t seem to keep my eyes focused in the room. My husband has always teased me about my appreciation of the plains. He grew up in Colorado, and for a number of years we lived in Ft. Collins, Colorado, on the Front Range of the Rockies. From there, we moved to Athens, Texas, at the western edge of the Piney Woods. Both of these were beautiful locations, but I complained about feeling closed in. On our trips back to see family in the Texas Panhandle, I would breathe a sigh of relief at the openness of the plains, and Robert would shake his head and say, “I know. I know. Not a tree to spoil the view.” When we finally moved back to the Panhandle area (officially the South Plains), I was grateful to be back where the sky was a vital part of the scenery. Then in the interview on 4^th floor, I had a great view of golf-course green grass and autumn foliage as well as the blue Texas sky. Apparently noticing that I couldn’t stop looking out the window, the business manager who was conducting the interview said, “I’ve always liked the view from the 4^th floor. If you go to the 3^rd floor, you don’t get a wide enough view. If you go to the 5^th floor, you get a great view, but it’s too far to identify any of the people. I think 4^th floor is just right.” Ah, someone who understood.

For the first couple of years in my job, the 4^th floor conference room was the lunch room for “the girls.” We had a lot of interesting conversations while I continued to gaze lovingly onto the horizon outside the wall of windows.

Two years ago, our department chairman, retired military, accepted an opportunity to take a three-month assignment in Iraq. He left Lubbock in March and returned in June, so he was in Iraq when summer was heating up. In one of his e-mails to the department, he described the sun parched brownness of the area where he was located. He said, “Compared to Iraq, Lubbock looks like Paradise.” I went to the conference room – still my favorite view – and took pictures through the window – pictures of the three flags waving in the Texas breeze with the golf course visible beyond – and included them in a care package to our chairman. My note with the pictures said, “Just to remind you what Paradise looks like.”

Last year, our department began an expansion project that is still underway. As one of the early steps of the expansion, two of us had to give up our individual offices and were assigned to share the conference room. Now the view is mine at all times. My officemate and I have a full view of the north sky and can see weather systems coming in – blue cold fronts, gray rainstorms, and red dust storms. In fact, when a weather front is approaching, we can count on having a number of visitors to come in to check on it. One day last December, dark clouds formed, teasing us with the possibility of rain. After a few large drops fell, the rain stopped, the wind strengthened and the horizon turned red as a dust storm moved in. Several hours later, the wind died down, the air cleared of dirt, and a partial rainbow appeared in the sky. I thought only in Texas would a rainbow appear after a dirt storm.

Sometimes when I work late, I’m still in the office at sunset. I’ve tried to take pictures of some of the beautiful sunsets, but the inadequacy of the digital image mocks my efforts. I’ve decided you just have to be there in person to enjoy it.

When people come into the office for the first time, they usually comment on the view. Most frequently, the comment is something along the lines of, “You really have a great view here” or “You have the best view in the building.” But sometimes the comments are a little more unusual. One student looked out the window and said, “Too much sky. There’s nothing to anchor us to the planet. I don’t know how it is that everything doesn’t just float off into space.” It turned out she was from Boston and loved the noise and crowding of the city. In Lubbock she had deliberately found an apartment near an ambulance service because the sound of the siren was homey and comforting to her. The wide open spaces are not for everyone. At another time, a group of three students came in, and one of them stopped suddenly, stared out the windows and said, “Mountains! There should be mountains out there.” I assured him the mountains were indeed out there, but he would have to drive several hours to see them. In the meantime, (I borrowed my husband’s comment) there wasn’t a mountain in the way to spoil the view. The plains are not for everyone either.

My office in the former conference room is temporary. At some point, the room will be returned to its conference room status or be given to someone of higher rank and I’ll be assigned to an interior windowless room – or the basement – but for now, I’m enjoying the perk of the shared office and the unobstructed view of the flat horizon.

Posted by Nicki Wilcoxson for Driscilla Storrs

Days in a Life ... The Lady of the Lake ... and "Home"....

The Looking Glass
by Jennifer Johnston






















Photograph by Yahn Smith, The Quiet Man years, ca. 1974

Thomas Wolfe notwithstanding, sometimes you can go home again (and again). "Home" is not always a physical place; it can be and is a state of mind as well ... a warm, abiding feeling of familiarity, belonging, safety, memory, an echo of the spirit and clarifying reflection ... a sense that all is well, and as it should be ... that the stars and planets and "vibes" are good and full of preternatural promise.

When you find your home(s) ... for sometimes there may be more than one ... you begin to understand the sense of being enveloped and gently held in a loving place of life and light where your past, present and future intersect and combine to soothe, educate, enlighten, sustain and expand your soul.

Dallas has always been a tangible "home" place for me. Denver is another, although Yahn is not as comfortable with the ambiance and altitude ... and sometimes attitude ... that are common to that Rocky Mountain "Queen City of the Plains." Childress was "home" in a physical sense for the first 16 years of my life ... and even after I left, it was a "home" of sorts because my blood family was there for some years after my departure. I suppose that in some corner of my mind there remains some vestigial feeling of "home" because of the good friends and the good memories which still reside in that small corner of the Texas Panhandle.

But ... even though I have come to appreciate many of the things and the people I knew in Childress, it never felt to me like I "belonged" there. For a long time I had the distinct feeling that I had been "kidnapped" to Childress when I was six months old (grin), although now I reflect that there were karmic reasons why I needed ... was supposed ... to be there.... I enjoy visiting Childress from time to time, and taking "memorial drags" on Highway 287, through Fair Park, down a Main Street no longer as familiar as in memory ... but I feel it is unlikely I could ever be happy living there ... despite the fact that one of the things I have learned over this lifetime is "never say never" ... and ever and never are sometimes dependent on things outside our ken. Obviously others feel differently about Childress ... that is their choice, their sustaining place, their "comfort zone," their karma ... and that is as it should be for them. But Dallas is "my place" in a way that Childress, and Houston (even after 20 years there) and Las Vegas never were.

My longtime Houston friend Susan and her boyfriend Drew came to Dallas (new territory for them) to visit over this past Easter weekend, and to see some of the city. Given Yahn's ongoing recovery from his surgery in December, we weren't able to spend long periods of time with them, or get out and walk around a lot. But still, we did get to have lunch with them both Friday and Saturday, and après lunch take them driving around the city ... and it was interesting and revelatory in a way to experience Dallas ... the Dallas we knew from 1968 to 1980 when we were young, and the Dallas we are discovering and rediscovering now ... through their eyes. It was also verrrry interesting to see Susan get insight ... a vision if you will ... of the person I was when we previously lived in Dallas, compared to the older paralegal colleague and friend she came to know in Houston.



Crème brûlée, photograph by J. Patrick Fisher
From Wikipedia Commons

On Friday we had lunch at Zen Sushi here in our Oak Cliff Bishop Arts District. As always, the food was outstanding ... Zen Sushi regularly makes the "Best of Dallas" lists ... and we enjoyed introducing them to chef/owner Michelle Carpenter, and finishing the wonderful meal with Michelle's extraordinary crème brûlée (in French, literally "burnt cream"), the best I've ever eaten (and I've had crème brûlée in some lovely and exotic locales around the world). It always seems just a little "off" to go from Japanese to crème brûlée ... but somehow it is a perfect coda in that eclectic, serene and minimalist venue in funky Bishop Arts.

After lunch we headed out to "tour" some of the different Dallas neighborhoods, starting with hilly Oak Cliff, sections of which remind me of Ireland (its shades ... in a couple of senses of the word ... and shadows) and seem almost enchanted, particularly on bright afternoons of deep still darkness beneath the trees, or foggy mornings, or at twilight. After Oak Cliff we "did" Downtown Dallas and the Arts District, including the historic Dealey Plaza/Texas School Book Depository confluence of streets where John F. Kennedy was murdered by Lee Harvey Oswald in 1963, and pointed out (among other things) Reunion Tower, the spectacularly lit glittering "dandelion" (although it has been called by a more colorful name that rhymes with Dallas ... grin) that was the location of the revolving Antares Restaurant (now Wolfgang Puck's Five Sixty), where we took Shannon and Chiara when they were children for Thanksgiving dinner the first year I didn't cook or we didn't go to Childress or La Grange to feast with family.

Photograph of Reunion Tower by Danny Burton,
Released to Public Domain

Then we headed to Oak Lawn, the "gayborhood," where we lived before we moved to Denver in 1980. Leaving Oak Lawn we drove through the Lee Park/Turtle Creek area, then très riche Highland Park (where my college roommate at Texas Tech, Susie, and my old boyfriend Kirk Wade, and Floyd Dakil grew up and went to high school), then to the super-trendy and chic West Village and Uptown areas ... and then to and through my cherished Knox-Henderson enclave.

(Sidebar: The area is called Knox-Henderson because on the West side of Central Expressway the street is Knox, but East of Central it is Henderson. Knox was always the cooler venue, at least in my Dallas experiences ... and it still is, IMHO ... although in the past few years it seems Henderson has made some strides toward its own cachet. But my memories reside on Knox....)

The Quiet Man, my favorite bar/pub ever ... truly like no place else (with a nod to Nicki's previous post) ... sat more or less in the middle of the 3100 block of Knox ... about two and a half blocks West of Central ... and as we told Susan about the great times we had there (together and sometimes singularly when Yahn was traveling a lot for his job as Art Director for Packaging Corporation of America), it was interesting to note her rising level of interest in a "me" that she never knew. I couldn't see her facial expressions because I was driving, but I did pick up on her vocal inflections as she commented and questioned.

I've mentioned The Quiet Man on the blog before (among other things as the place I last saw our classmate Jimmy Lassen), but for those who are not familiar.... The QM was an Irish-style pub, filled with a totally diverse clientele from darts and rugby players to SMU professors holding "seminars" over pitchers of beer on the patio or inside the bar, to bikers (I am speaking of both Harley-Davidson and Schwinn varieties), hippies, leftover beatniks and young professionals ... owned and lovingly operated by the fabulous Mike Carr, a mad but benign Irishman well-known in Dallas for his over-the-top St. Patrick's Day celebrations ... like disrupting traffic on Knox to paint a green stripe down the street, then commandeering the side closest to the QM for the huge, spillover crowds that came to take part in the revelry. I also remember a couple of bizarre Easter Egg rolls in the parking lot, and festive, costumed Halloweens and so many other special days in that life....

The QM now exists only in memory ... Mike Carr died in 1998 ... and the place where the QM sat is now occupied by some white thing called Quatrine Custom Furniture. Feh!!! Within walking distance of the QM were the Knox Street Pub (now operating in another location) and The Old Church (so named because it was in fact once an old church before it was deconsecrated and turned into a "hot" watering hole with steeple), which is still physically there but operates under another name. Sometimes we would make the Knox "rounds" of all three places ... but always returned to the QM, where the jukebox was to die for, and the conversations were so stimulating, and the darts players and the bikers (all of them!) were always interesting. I always felt "at home" at the QM ... had many friends there ... and if Yahn was traveling, sometimes I would go there to read and write letters....

That was back in the day when people actually wrote letters ... often lengthy letters ... instead of Tweeting, Twittering or e-mailing. Oh don't get me wrong ... it would have been absolutely fabulous to have had at that time some means of almost instant communication that we are now afforded by the Internet.... Nevertheless, there was always something magical about opening and devouring the contents of a fat envelope, then going back for a slower, more contemplative re-reading ... or setting pen to paper to begin composing an answering missive ... while Willie and Patsy and Ray Price and Ray Charles and Sammi Smith and Steppenwolf and the Drifters and the Platters and the Righteous Brothers and the Eagles blended seamlessly in the background.






















Pencil sketch done on the Patio of The Quiet Man, ca. 1974

I loved writing, and receiving, those long letters ... the tactile sensation of my hands holding the paper and seeing the words ... the familiar handwriting.... More often than not, letters I would begin writing at The QM or The Old Church would be finished later at home ... after the girls had gone to bed. The atmosphere most conducive to writing seemed to be to start a fire, put good and meaningful music on the stereo, pour a glass or two of wine ... and then let the words and the music and the flickering fire with its myriad fascinating imaginary shapes take me wherever my mind was inclined to wander, in a sort of "altered" state.... But I digress ... although a fun digression, at least for me....

On Saturday, after a lunch of good old classic Tex-Mex at El Fenix, we took Susan and Drew to drive around White Rock Lake, a favorite place in those early years to take our daughters Shannon and Chiara to play and feed the ducks. It is just as picturesque and peaceful, if a bit more crowded with upscale homes and joggers and boaters and bikers ... of the bicycle variety ... than it was lo those many years ago. Of course we related the legend of the ghostly "Lady of White Rock Lake" while we drove.

"Ianare the Ghost" painting by Ianare Sevi
Released by the painter to public domain, Wikipedia Commons



The story (which many lakeside residents insist is true) holds that sometimes, when "conditions" are just right, a spectral young woman will appear to some driver traveling the road late at night. The Lady is always dripping wet, in evening attire common to the 1920s ... and if the driver stops she tells him she has been in an accident on the lake, then asks him to take her to her home. She always gets into the back seat, and when the driver arrives at the address given and turns to speak to her, she is gone ... leaving only pools of water in the seat and floorboard. It is said that for a long time, if any driver had courage to knock on the door of the house to inquire, he was told by the owners that their daughter had died by drowning late one night many years ago when she fell out of a small boat on the lake. Updates to the tale say that when the driver arrives at the address, the house is no longer there but has been torn down and replaced by apartments. Whatever the truth of the matter, the story has always been good enough to induce chills in listeners ... though it has always seemed to me that the lost Lady means no harm and is simply trying, again and again, to reach "home"....

I believe that the memories we spun, the Knox Street stories, White Rock Lake and the haunting narrative of its Lady, gave Susan insight into the person I once was ... as well as the person I am today, given that I am a firm believer that our earlier experiences in life remain with us and shape us as we grow in age and knowledge ... and inexorably move between the lives, as a Rabbi once translated to me from the Hebrew on a charm which I acquired in San Francisco. But again I digress ... and that is another supernatural story for a very small audience....

More importantly, by the time we dropped Susan and Drew back at their downtown hotel (where Susan says they had a fabulous view of the Dallas skyline), I believe I had "touched" once again so many things intrinsic to my soul ... the person I was, am and will yet become ... in this place of "home" and homecoming, where the future is arriving and fading into past even in those minutes that I type these words.

Virginia Woolf wrote: Each has his past shut in him like the leaves of a book known to him by heart and his friends can only read the title. Yet if we are very lucky, and very aware, we may find one or two souls along the way who are able to "read" past the title, to know the intricacies and the nuances of the story.

That is a "good" place, a welcoming, warming "home" ... bearing in mind always that "home" is truly where the heart and longing and memory and prelude and promise reside in universal harmony and keen anticipation....

)O(

Like No Place Else

Tea Time

written by Nicki Wilcoxson

Jim and I consider ourselves to be very fortunate to have a Chili’s Restaurant located a short distance from our house. When we want to eat in a restaurant, but we don’t want to go too far, Chili’s is often the perfect solution. Not only is it nearby, we actually like the food and find it to be very consistent no matter what we choose to order. Even more important is the fact that Chili’s has the best iced tea ever! Recently, as we sat waiting for our food, I found myself drawn to a slogan painted on the wall. I am sure it has been there for a long time, but this time when I looked at it, I actually took notice. I am always on the lookout for something that will serve as an inspiration for a topic to use in writing the next post, and I knew immediately that I would be able to use the Chili’s slogan, “Like no place else!”

When I had time, I started a list of places that could fit into the category of “Like no place else” and before I knew it, my list was long. Blog readers will be happy to know that I have been able to divide the list into several categories for future posts. These categories could include places for vacations, eating, shopping, towns/cities, and of course our homes. These are just a few of the many possibilities! One of my criteria for unique places is that they will be chosen for the effect that they have on me and hopefully others, too. In my opinion the selected “like no place else” should be places that draw us back time and time again because they exert an emotional pull or connection.

People who know me, know that I am an avid reader so while some readers will be surprised at my first choice for “Like no place else”, many will not. My first choice is Barnes and Noble! I love Barnes and Noble. In fact I love all bookstores including Book People in Austin, and Borders. I love all the bookstores I have never been to. I love bookstores that are yet to be opened. However, I have to admit that I really can’t pass by a Barnes and Noble, and I can’t go to Austin without a visit to Book People with its unique atmosphere and unique focus for its books and its own blog.. After all, Book People has made “Keeping Austin Weird” its goal!

Jim and I are drawn to visit Barnes and Noble quite often. It really is one of our favorite things to do. Upon entering the doors, we experience a delicious feast for the senses. I am not a coffee drinker, but oh the smell of coffee is so welcoming and comforting when we walk in that I am almost convinced to buy a cup at the in-store Starbuck’s. If I could only believe that it tastes as good as it smells! I never know where to look first—new arrivals, fiction, non-fiction, paperbacks, hardbacks, bargain books, greeting cards, puzzles, games, music, or magazines. My fingers literally itch to touch the smooth book covers and to turn the pages of each book (very carefully, of course.) My eyes are eager to read the book jackets and the enticing book summaries and reviews. I can hear the quiet or not so quiet conversations, maybe a poetry reading, and parents urging children to the children’s area to explore the books or to hear a favorite selection read. As I move around the huge room, I remain keenly aware of the large comfy chairs, tables, and benches that beckon customers to “sit a spell” and read.

Entering the doors ignites a sense of excitement or the keen awareness that comes when the “hunt has begun.” The challenge of finding a needed book or the knowledge that there are new books waiting for me to find them makes my pulse quicken. Who or what is waiting for me just around the corner, on the next shelf, or on the new books display? What a joy I experience when I find a new title written by a favorite author! I love fiction and I look forward to meeting new characters, seeing new places, solving mysteries, crying a little, and having a new adventure. Discovering a new author is a wondrous event!

I explore BN very methodically on each visit. If I need a greeting card, I go to that area first (saving the best for last), I slowly move through the new books section, making note of everything I want to read in the future. I pass by the non-fiction sections unless I have something specific to look for; my destination is first and foremost the mystery books. I hold my breath as I skim the new mystery book section, once again making notes about new books and pulling new paperback books that I want to purchase and read. (I never buy hardbacks.) I do a walk through of the mystery and general fiction sections paying special attention to favorite authors—always looking for the unread (by me). From there I am off to children’s books. Because I am a children’s book junkie I will occasionally buy a book that I find especially well illustrated. My final destination is usually the magazine section where I have to be really careful not to buy everything I see. I love magazines, too!

Now in case you think that people are standing back watching a crazy woman in a bookstore, I assure you that to the outside world I appear sane and sedate. I have never danced the happy dance in BN even though I would love to at times, and I have never made any little children cry in the children’s book section!

In the meantime, Jim has gone for coffee and then he spends the rest of his time looking for new golf related books and pouring over physical fitness books. He has no qualms about buying hardback books and is accruing books at an alarming rate. Soon we will have to buy a larger house just for his books. Eventually one of us will find the other; then we move to the purchase line, and leave the store clutching our purchases, eagerly anticipating the time that we can immerse ourselves in our treasures.

Now, I am sure that you are all wondering what I do with the notes that I took about new books that I plan to read. There is still one unmentioned, but related “like no place else”. That would be the public library! I have to tell you that I love libraries, too! Nothing like them anywhere! I take my list of books and put myself on the reserve lists anticipating the joy and pleasure I feel when I receive a call from the library telling me it is my turn to check out a treasured book, read it, enjoy it, savor it ALL FOR FREE!

So for my first choice of “Like no place else” I am happy to share my love for Barnes and Noble and for all the other book stores and public libraries for all the reasons mentioned above. I love the idea that they are the homes of so many of my best friends, my favorite places, and one of my greatest loves and past times—reading books.

I look forward to sharing more of my favorite places that are like no other!

FYI, the "books" scattered around the post are books I am looking forward to reading soon!!

Worth Sharing!!! In a comment to this post Jennifer mentioned her favorite bookstore, The Tattered Cover Book Store in Denver. I have been there before, too, and it is truly a "Like No Place Else" bookstore. The atmosphere is wonderful and it fits the category of drawing a person back time after time. The service is first class and the building is filled with history. I have discovered that they have a blog entitled "Between the Covers". Be sure to check out Jennifer's comment as well as the web page for Tattered Cover and for the blog Between the Covers. Thank you Jennifer for reminding me of this true treasure among bookstores!.

Food Fun

by Clara Robinson Meek



Anyone can be glamorous when it comes to dining, entertaining, decorating. Just pick up any Martha Stewart Living, Southern Living, Bon Appetite, Gourmet, Saveur, Wine Spectator magazine ----------- and the list is endless. I can tell you right now I have an excessive and irrational commitment to food. I watch the food channel when I pause long enough in the kitchen to grab a few apple slices with peanut butter for lunch.

I would like to share with you one of my favorite menus. Let's begin with a nice sashimi grade crudo and, of course, foie gras. Follow this with a simple salad, escabeche of skate with French first press olive oil. yummmmmm! Now for a bit of roasted bone marrow and parsley crostini.

Now we're getting to the good stuff................slow roasted wild salmon on dilled cucumbers and avocado with tarragon creme fraiche and Spanish Marcona almonds.

I chose a bottle of white full bodied Louis Jadot Montrechet (1999) for the above.

The dessert could be either a lovely raspberry and lemon curd roulade, or my to-die-for Grand Marnier creme brulee. A bottle of Taylor Fladgate & Yeatman 20 yr. tawny port would be perfect with either.

Of course, for this meal, I would have polished every piece of silver, drug out my best china, and made sure there were no spots on my crystal. And let's not forget the painstaking ordeal of floral arrangement. No table of mine is complete without a fresh bouquet-----and I like'em big!

Now let's look at some examples of my personal touch.

Okay, so the flowers are not exactly fresh----or real------and I haven't changed them in 2 years. I LOVE red poppies. How often do you see fresh red poppies, really? Now, let's get a closeup of my lovely bouquet. You may not have noticed an inhabitant.

That's right. It's a crow. He was so cute (in a macabre way) that I had to put him right in the middle of my precious poppies. Not ONE person has ever said a word. It's like getting a really bad haircut and everyone pretends they don't notice.

When you wrap a tree toad or a lizard around a person's napkin it is impossible for them to not notice. It even sets a certain level of expectation, as in, "I'm not getting foie gras tonight." So, I'm off the hook and can serve my fake crabmeat crab cakes. I think I may stock up on Yellowtail Pinot Grigio. WalMart has it on special for $4.97.

Why not kick up the atmosphere a notch with a couple of spectators on the windowsill? They don't eat anything.

Don's personal touch for the cooktop. Doesn't it look terribly French? Again, no comments. I'm beginning to think we have acquaintances lacking senses of humor--------or maybe we ARE just weird.

Dessert. It appears my brulee torch is out of fuel. How 'bout some ice cream? And coffee. Put enough Irish Cream in that coffee and everyone leaves thinking what a wonderful meal they had, even if the decor was strange.

The part about having a food fetish is absolutely true.

Princess Jasmine ... Pablo Picasso ... and Facebook Follies....

The Looking Glass
by Jennifer Johnston






















Victor Vasnetsov (1848-1926) painting, Riding a Magic Carpet theme

I am Princess Jasmine ... Aladdin's true love ... a beautiful Princess ruling over a golden kingdom with Al(addin), with whom I have an awesome time flying on the magic carpet!!! And ... I have a beautiful singing voice.... Well, perhaps that's a fantasy too far.... (grin)

It is pretty much a given that when we are young, particularly when we are upset with our parents, many of us have fantasies that we are actually someone other than the person we are ... frequently a kidnapped Princess or Prince of some royal family ... and that our lives would be just perfect if only our real parents ... or our Prince Charming ... would come "find" us and take us away from our quotidian existence. I do recall having a couple of similar fantasies over the years, and they were actually quite entertaining to spin and lovely to recall, even at this late date. But I digress....

So how do I know I am Princess Jasmine? Easy. Facebook told me so ... or rather, one of its myriad quizzes that proliferate like bunnies at Easter (or apparently year-'round, given their natural inclinations). Hardly a day goes by that I don't receive an invitation to take this quiz, or that quiz, from one or more of my Facebook "Friends." And when I have a slow day ... or a few unoccupied minutes ... I sometimes give in just to see what insights Facebook can give me. (There are days when I'll take insight from whatever source ... but again I digress....)

My friend Chris, who sent me this quiz, is Princess Ariel, ruling the magic kingdom under the sea.... Chris is also Lily White ... but that's a whole other story....

Okay ... I'll buy into being Princess Jasmine. Jasmine has been one of my favorite scents for as long as I can remember, and I am inordinately fond of magic and magic carpets....

Another quiz I took recently was "Who is Your Celebrity Boyfriend?" Interestingly enough, Chris and I would have the same "celebrity boyfriend" ... Colin Farrell, the typical "bad boy." Facebook goes on to describe this Irish Celtic hunk as one of the hottest men around, and says "his baby brown eyes can swoon any woman." I think Guinevere the Druid Goddess may have a total affinity for Colin ... or certainly his type ... as well. However, since she has "poofed off" to parts unknown again, I can't really check with her on this. I'll just have to rely on my close personal knowledge of her proclivities....

I've always had a soft spot for smoldering Irish types with killer eyes (think Jonathan Rhys-Meyers in The Tudors) ... so okay, let's concede Facebook may be onto something here.... Of course I also have a thing for blond Germanic Celtic types like my darling Yahn. And for.... Uh, moving on....



Steel Magnolias movie poster
Reproduced here citing "fair use" provisions of U.S. copyright law

This past weekend I succumbed to the lure of the "Which Steel Magnolias Character Are You?" quiz. And Facebook tells me that I am the Julia Roberts character, Shelby Eatenton Latcherie ... because I am "a breath of fresh air ... the girl next door, and you love to laugh! You may make impulsive decisions because you would rather have thirty minutes of wonderful than a lifetime of nothing special. Although you're a Southern belle at heart ... you might get caught doing things from time to time that 'frighten the fish'...." I must say this begs the question: The girl next door to what??? Never mind ... and moving on again.... (grin)

Sheila Davis Martinez commented on my results from this quiz: "So true! I love the part about 'thirty minutes of wonderful than a lifetime of nothing special.' That is so YOU!!! ... lol...."

Several people seem to have taken this quiz. My friend Chris and Sharon Simmons Wadley (Harold's sister) have "discovered" that they are Ouiser Boudreaux (Shirley MacLaine's character) and that they are "confident, self-reliant and comfortable speaking your mind." [Gotta say, there may be a little bit of Ouiser in me, as well as Shelby.] Ouiser also "may have cared what other people thought about you in the past, but you're over that now. As you say, you're 'not as sweet as you used to be.' You're comfortable in your own skin and often say what everyone else is thinking, although they'd never dream of saying it aloud! ... You're witty and can be brash and sarcastic, but deep down you're a real softy. You are used to showing a hard outer shell, but sometimes you don't know what to do when life crumbles around you. It's during those times you need to lean on your girlfriends...." Well, what's a girlfriend for???

Then I took the "How Weird Are You?" quiz. Some may not consider it a major "news flash" when I tell you the Facebook Quiz Wizard divined that I am "Weird. You are the person who laughs at all the non-funny parts in a movie theater, just because they reminded you of something that happened seven months ago. Everyone looks to you to be the life of the party because of your spontaneity. You can act loud, wear fuzzy slippers in public and be downright weird. But it's 100% you! Good luck, Sherlock Holmes. You're on the edge of slightly weird (a forest with a river) and scary weird (the whole damned ocean)."

Wait.... Sherlock Holmes??? I thought I was Shelby Eatenton Latcherie ... and Princess Jasmine.... A Southern belle in harem pants and halter top with a deerstalker hat??? Talk about scary weird.... And I'm confused enough already.... (grin) But I've got to draw the line at those "fuzzy slippers in public".... Perhaps some simple ruby slippers, three crisp clicks of the heels, hold onto Joss, spinning spinning....

Sheila says of the results of my "How Weird Are You?" quiz: "I know all of this is true. I have seen you in action! I will forever remember ... one evening in Las Vegas when the three of us [Yahn, Sheila and me] went to Zumanity." I must say that being onstage with the cast of Zumanity (more than once) definitely constituted weird ... but so much fun!!!!!

At this juncture I should point out that the Facebook Fairy determined that Shee-Ra is "Extremely Weirdo ... the type to go through Wal-Mart screaming 'What Would [Willie] Do???' ... no problem talking about anything with any random stranger, and going to Burger King to ask for a Big Mac. You have everyone watching you and you don't care. Just as long as you're having fun. Even if you're alone and the people staring think you should be committed. ... No one knows what to expect next from you." Sheila admits in a Facebook comment that some of this certainly fits.... And she (and Facebook) asserts I'm weird.... Shee-sh!!!!

Facebook thinks that Sue Yager (CHS Class of 1966) is "Normal." Sue is convinced she needs to take the test again. Hang in, Sue ... maybe the FB Fairy was out to lunch, had overindulged in fairy dust (or both).... Still, as far as I am concerned, Facebook is getting a little scary weird ... or there is a giant all-seeing eye following me....

I also took the "Which '80s Movie Defines You?" quiz, sent to me by Sharon Simmons Wadley, who apparently is "The Goonies. Never say die." Facebook opines that I am "Say Anything. To know you is to love you." Awwwww.....



Pablo Picasso

Sharon (a prolific quiz-sender/-taker also sent me the "Who Were You in a Past Life" interrogatory. Turns out Facebook thinks she was Marilyn Monroe ... "radiant, happy, whimsical and daring." (And needy and suicidal??? Nah....) Facebook thinks that I was Pablo Picasso ... "revolutionary, stubborn, an active lover [blush], enjoy breaking the rules...." Well, maybe ... but if I was Picasso or Sharon was Marilyn, there's gotta be something other than a "past life" thing going on here, since we were alive when our purportedly "past" personas were. Maybe a little transmigration of souls.... And while I do believe in past (and future) lives ... and I don't necessarily mind being Pablo Picasso even though I enjoy being a girl ... I would definitely get something done about that nose.... (grin)

So, as you can see ... there's a lot more to Facebook than just keeping up with your friends ... exchanging updates and pictures and sometimes witty repartee. In addition to the quizzes, you can also do interesting things like SuperPoke your friends ... "hit the beach with" ... "sit by the fire with" ... "be fabulous with" ... "hug" ... "bite" ... "go green with" ... more risque stuff.... (grin) The SuperPoke characters are cute little sheep, penguins and other whimsical "critters." You can even "adopt" a SuperPoke Pet ... mine is a sweet little flying dragon named Fluff Baby ... although SuperPoke Pets seems to be holding little Fluff Baby hostage.... Grrrrrr....

Enough of this! Gotta go "fling a thong" or "throw a sheep at" somebody. Watch out for flying sheep ... and thongs ... and really watch out for flying sheep wearing thongs.... (grin)

)O(