Last weekend I had the pleasure of meeting the parents of one of my dearest friends. My friend is one of the kindest people I have ever met, with an infectious smile and a warm hug. I was intrigued to discover the people who raised this very special person. I was not disappointed.
Her dad is a character. No, really, a character, someone bigger than life. He's a big guy with a huge personality. The best description I can offer is that he is the ultimate Texan. He knows everything about oil and Texas history and other interesting topics and he's not afraid to share it. He's one of those rare people who can be a big personality without being a big ego. KWIM?
Her mom is a sweet, nurturing woman. She doesn't say too much, but it's not because she's shy or doesn't have anything to say. It's because she is a listener, and a good listener at that. She looks right at you when you talk and is genuinely interested in what you have to say. She's proud of her daughter, but more importantly, admires her as a person.
As interesting as these people are, that's not why I was so fascinated with them. What is remarkable is how my friend is the perfect combination of both of her parents. She's a wonderful listener, compassionate and sensitive. At the same time, she has a smile as big as Texas and a mischievous twinkle in her eye. Wherever she goes she fits in and charms everyone in the crowd.
As interesting as it is to see the physical resemblance among children and parents, it's so much more enlightening to see the "inner" resemblance. It brings a whole new facet to a dear friend and I'm privileged to have experienced that chance encounter.
cindy
Oh my goodness. You brought tears to my eyes. Hugs to you friend and thank you!
ReplyDeleteWhat a lovely tribute! I'm also a friend of Kate who knew her "way back when." It sounds as if her parents have not changed a jot. (Hard to improve, I guess.)
ReplyDeleteKate's parents are one in a million. I only spent a brief time with them, but they are gems.
DeleteDear Cindy,
ReplyDeleteThank you for being a friend to Kate, to the church, and to us all. And how's about a fun story. JKT
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The Wolf and Back Screen Door.
Sugar Road Farm; Pharr, Texas.
It was late Spring time with the dark green, 6-foot tall sweet corn about ready for the picking. And during the lonely times, I was able to find a bit of solace by "singing down the standpipes". That is, the farm had a forced-water irrigation system from deep, underground concrete conduits, and to insure the system's protection for pressure relief, smaller concrete standpipes were installed at intervals of about each 50 to 100 yards. Some of the small 12-inch diameter standpipes made a perfect acoustic system, and your voice would echo in a wonderful manner.
As was my late-morning custom after Saturday chores were complete, I had again ventured through the golden fields, an eighth mile west to the standpipes. Oh, what a wonderful sing I had that day. "Shrimp Boats Are A' Coming, They're Dancing Tonight", had been played on the old Motorala radio the evening before, and this song sounded great echoing deep from underground. This particular day my little dog, "Dodie", had come along for company, but he had picked up a rabbit trail along the way and had wandered off. I don't know if it was a sense that something was wrong or if it was a slight movement among the tall sunflower stalks to the north that caught my attention.
About 40 yards away stood a huge, Mexican grey wolf with piercing red eyes, and he had his eye on me. I was to be lunch. Reasoning that the concrete standpipe was far too short to be of much protection, I quickly dashed into the corn, running as fast as I could for home. The wolf charged as I made my move.
Down through the corn we went, crashing through the razor-sharp leaves across the furrows. I could feel and smell the hot breath of the wolf as he raced positioning for the kill. “Oh, my God help me.” It was just then that Dodie dog reappeared, coming in a blur from the side to nip the back leg of the wolf. And down they went, fighting into a cloud of teeth and dust. Trying not to look back, I raced toward the safety of the farm. Each time the wolf got close, Dodie dog would knock him down even though the wolf must have outweighed him by at least 30 to 40 pounds. “Run Dodie dog, run!”
As I reached the Sugar Road farm house still at full speed, I ran right through the back screen door. Driven through the barrier by sheer terror and near exhaustion, I was caught by the solid balance wire that cut across the door and was thrown flat, tumbling out into the red-tiled hallway. Right behind came Dodie dog, nearly unscathed, diving through the door and into the safety of my waiting arms. We had survived only by the grace of God and Dodie's timely ability.
With my screaming and a' hollering, Mom came running to see what in heaven's name was the matter. But Dodie dog and I never saw that wolf again. And I like to got a whipping. But Mama couldn't decide which was worse: tearing a hole in the back screen door, letting the dog in the house, or telling such a tall tale. And it is in His debt, that I remain alway.
John Kenton Thompson
- From Recollections of 1953
What a cool story - thanks for sharing!
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