My dad is my hero, despite how many times we have butted heads and he's pissed me off to no ends...he once made me drive home in a hailstorm so that my "car would be safe and wouldn't get beat to hell"...umm, hello?!? Ask me sometime about the starter going out of my POS car from high school the day he was leaving for a fishing tournament...Daddy is half Cherokee Indian, 1/4 German and 1/4 Irish. He's about 6'2" with salt and pepper black hair, dark skin, and bright blue eyes. Hubs Brian describes him as a "scary Wilford Brimley" (the Quaker Oats and 'Diabeetus' guy) so there you go. I like to think of him as the redneck equivalent to the father in My Big Fat Greek Wedding..."put some Weendex on it"...He grew up the youngest (by about 3 minutes) of triplet boys and one older brother to a dirt-poor truck driver and teacher's aid. (yet another family association...'Oh your dad is one of those H-triplets?! Now which one do you belong to?)And back in the 1950's, there was no such thing as invitro fertilization...my saint of a grandmother conceived, carried to full term, and delivered all three of them naturally at all of 19 years old. Yes, she is one hell of a lady, and genetically she has passed that onto myself and cousin Lisa. (the multiples gene skips a generation from grandmother to female grandchild on Dad's side of the family...so big-guy and I have the chance of having three quirky, brunette, blue-eyed kids at the same time...thanks Grandom! Lisa no offense, I hope it's you *wink*) Growing up he was the epitome of a typical boy, somewhat of a sports prodigy, and is a jack of all trades. He can build and fix anything, pick up any sport and play it well, hunt, fish, shoot the wings off a fly if he tried hard enough, even catch a live armadillo by the tail (no lie). Daddy was a football and track star, and even made it to the minor leagues in baseball. During college, he was both a skydiving and scuba diving instructor, welder, owned a motorcycle, and lived life to the fullest. In other words, he was adventurous and considered a ladies man...which God had a sense of humor and later gave him two daughters. He was also the only one out of his brothers to graduate from college, and went on to coach and teach math/vocational education for almost 30 years.You probably won't find another man his age that is more talkative, borderline flirtacious w/his dirty old man moments (apparently he's 'earned them'), highly conservative, easily entertained, eccentric, and cynical in your lifetime.That's right, my dad is THAT guy in the bib overalls, US Navy hat, driving a beater pickup truck with NRA (if terrorists ever invaded our hometown, Dad could form an arsenal with just what is in the gun cabinet/under beds/in closets/drawers/his truck and be more than prepared...yeah, active NRA member is an understatement) and No-Bama bumper stickers, doesn't give a sh*t and will tell you what exactly is on his mind (good or bad, depends on how you take it). Not to mention he was CRAZY-strict on us growing up...my curfew was 10 PM, even after I turned 18, we couldn't date at all until we were 16 (and when your birthday is in April, that sucked), no boys were allowed to be in our rooms, if you made a "B" in a class you were instantly grounded (which finally got bypassed when he realized that math/chemistry/physics were NOT in the cards for me), we were in church every single Sunday morning (pretty much had to be on your death-bed and bleeding out of every hole of your body to miss it), Bible-Drill every Sunday night, and never ever allowed to argue regardless of what the point might have been. He could have adamently said that the sky was purple, and you couldn't say that was wrong and it was really blue. Looking back, I think this may have been a contributing factor for my lack of tolerance and patience for stupidity and unreasonableness...did I live through it? Yes, but it was no picnic...Dad has made some enemies in his lifetime, but only because he does not tolerate people walking all over him just because they have more money or think they are better in general. He once was invited to participate in an annual "charity" golf tournament at the local country club (which he despises) by the school-district superintendent and his big-whig "old oil family" pals. Dad beat the snot out of them in the tournament, actually placed in the top 3, and they never invited him back. He was rightfully pretty smug about beating the yuppy-clan :) I can say that we never missed out on lots of fun growing up. He never missed an opportunity to take us fishing, camping, swimming, horseback riding, to the gun range, bike riding, Dairy Queen for Blizzards, and even shopping. (He sat on the bench in the mall, read his paper/book, and then droolled over tools at Sears) Despite the strictness, he loved us 120%, helped and picked us up whenever we needed, and taught us to be the best we could be. Daddy also has an infamous reputation to say the least, for some reasons I'd rather/shall not share...crazy old man...Now he is happily retired, holds two masters degrees, owns a John Deer, broadcasts the high school football games over the local AM station (Ticket's own 2004 Homer Call Award winner-http://www.bobanddan.com/Homer%20champ%202004%20kilgore.mp3), teaches Sunday school, drinks the Sam Adams (his favorite beer), watches the History and Military channels on obnoxiously loud volume (old man is deaf as a stump), rides around town with Rocky (my folks sickingly-spoiled-rotten mini-Jack Russel mix dog, he's an oozingly-cute mess), goes fishing, plays golf, "smells gun powder" at the range, and gets a honey-do list regularly from Mom. This was also the same man double-fisting pina coladas at our destination wedding, cried when I said my vows, and then proceeded to taking pictures of topless women sunbathing...apparently he had to have proof to show his buddies later? That was his story anyway, and he was sticking to it...were we shocked? Not really...
Mom is the product of stubborn, crazy Arkansas hillbillies with just about every European lineage in her family tree. I wish I were exaggerating...you name it, it's probably there. From what I've been able to gather, (which I could easily be wrong or right on the money) I've narrowed it down to Scotch-Irish, German, Greek, Swiss, French, and possibly some Polish and/or Italian. From there, it is a mystery. And with my mom's and two uncles differentiating genes and traits, (Mom-brunette/fair-skinned/average height/green eyes, Uncle L-blue eyes/darker skin/dark hair/somewhat taller, Uncle G-blonde/fair-skinned/blue-eyed/taller) it could very well be all across the board. She was the oldest of three to a beloved teacher/counselor (Grandma is super-cool, and has a PhD) and a savvy businessman, and moved to my/our hometown as a young girl. There she excelled in school, fought off her younger brother's irritant of a best friend (AKA, my dad), was a prominent member in acapella choir/chamber singers/church choir/music ensambles, cheered through high school and college, competed in beauty pageants (she actually placed top 5 in the Miss Denton pageant go Mom!) to help pay for school, went off to University of North Texas, became active in a sorority (Omicron, which was local until it went national to Tri-Delta), graduated, taught in the DFW area for a few years, got married, had my sister, split from her ex, moved back to our hometown to be closer to family, got back in touch with my dad after years and years, they started dating, dad proposed on an Ozark mountaintop at sunset (you've got to give him props on that, but she told Dad to spit out his chewing tobacco and ask her again...classy), got married, and then nine months later were surprised with me, YAY! Hehehe...To this day they will look at each other, every now and then, and ask each other "We're married?! When the hell did this happen??" Mom was always the voice of reason when it came to growing up in the H-household...when my dad would go off on a rant/tagent, she would always be the one to say enough and suck it up. She has been there, done that, and is one of the best people for advice I've ever had. However, Mom has no short-term memory to speak of, and honestly I can't recall when she ever did...there have been multiple incidents where she has forgotten to pick us up from dance/choir/theatre/orchestra/drill-team practice/youth night/church/bible-drill/birthday parties, as well as thrown away bills/field-trip permission slips/wedding invitations, forgot to unplug the iron (this is a running joke in our family), left the stove on, forgot that the super-old/half-blind family dog was still outside (poor Tasha), and so many other things and times that are just too vastly numerous to list...honestly, we just got used to it after a while and learned to call and "remind" her that we were STILL waiting outside for her. And it's not that Mom did it on purpose, no not by any means, she just really was THAT forgetful. Cell phones were a miracle breakthrough for her lack of memory...poor Mom, she really meant well. Look out though, this lady has a short fuse...stubborn as an old mule, she will not back down if she is mad and thinks she is correct. I have genuine sympathy for anyone that has tried to get in her way, because they are probably still sporting tred and claw-marks. I will give Mom some props though, she is the garage-sale queen. I am beyond amazed at some of the things she has brought home (Kate Spade and Coach purses that still had the tags, Ferragamo shoes, Fiesta flatware, designer jeans, furniture-hence how she supplies her antique restoration business, and so much more), but for some reason she always seems to buy a friggin vacuum cleaner no matter how decrepit the thing is...she has this one hideous old school vacuum that is held together with duct tape and a prayer that she has been trying to pawn off on me and sister for years..."but it's great for tile and wood floors!" (Yeah when it isn't falling apart in multiple pieces and sounds like it is about to explode Mom...) Speaking of exploding vacuums, that actually happened! If only I were joking...the dilapidated garage-sale vacuums have always been weird "thing" for my mom, even when we were kids. For the amount of money she has spent on vacuum cleaners in the past 10 years, she could have bought a crazy-expensive Dyson and had it hand-delivered by that snobby-British founder of theirs to her front door...anyhoo, story goes: I can't remember exactly how old I was, I think mid-to-late middle school b/c sister was in high school, but Mom was vacuuming the living room with her "bargain" POS when it started to make a really weird noise. Not phased by this (they all seemed to make that noise, hence why someone sold them in a garage sale), she kept on vacuuming until it came to a screeching (literally) halt, exploded, and caught on fire. Caught, on friggin, fire...granted the flames subsided very quickly, but the entire house was filled with thick, awful, burnt rubber/plastic-smelling smoke. Sister and I were dying laughing, (between hacking/coughing from the smoke), the smoke alarm is beeping and going nuts, Dad hid his face and stifled his laughter behind the newspaper...all in the mean time, Mom is dropping sh*ts and damnits all over the place, getting irritated b/c we are in-tears laughing, and Dad wasn't helping all b/c she was telling him "dammit Don it's NOT funny!!" Oh yes Mother dearest, yes it was, and still is...BAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! Also, she has no concept of a thought-to-mouth filter, and there have been times where sister and I have wanted to put a bag over her head and throw her into a getaway car just to avoid the repercussions. We can't decide if it's because she's getting older and even more senile, or that she just flat-out doesn't care anymore? Which to a point, I don't blame her...prime example: A few months ago, myself/Mom/sister all went wedding-dress shopping in Dallas for sister's upcoming July nuptials to Captain America Scott (my soon-to-be bro-in-law that's in the Navy and might as well be a combo of Paul Bunyon, Bear Grils-Survival Man, Aqua-Man, Captain America and Jesus according to my dad...who has kind of a man-crush on Scott...he is a great guy though, we love him, he adores my sister, and that's what really matters...he too will be in this post) While sister was busy getting chiffoned/satined/strapped-in/cinched-up in the dressing room, there was another bridal group where the bride's sister was about six months pregnant. The mother and friends were all talking about her pregnancy, and she made a comment that she vowed to have her old weight and abs back in time for the wedding. Bold statement, good for her, I admire her ambition, but mom looked at her (in front of the poor girl's sister, family, friends, ect.) and said "Don't count on it, they'll never be the same again." I wanted to crawl into the sea of satin and tool and just disapear at that moment...geez...all I could do was wait for my mom to go to the bathroom (for the 80th time) and sincerely/profusely apologize to that girl. Later I told sister in private what Mom said, and she was completely mortified but sadly not surprised...Mom is who she is, and definitely keeps us on our toes! Nonetheless, she has always been there for me, through all the good and just plain sh*tty, and I honestly don't know what I would do if she wasn't in my life. For instance, when jackhole-cheater-pumpkin-eater dumped me (saying he wasn't ready to get married and settle down...but low and behold, he gets hitched to the lab partner he had been messing around with the weekend before big-guy and I got married, AND they just had a baby...not ready to settle down huh? Ugh, I am SO much better off! Thank you Lord! Edge of cliff...) and took half the furniture (if you found out what was done on said furniture without your knowledge, you would want it gone too...or burned, either one), Mom went out and bought me a brand-new, beautiful suede couch when I moved into a new apartment. I told her that was way too generous, and her response was "Well babygirl, it's cheaper than a wedding dress." Touche' Mother dearest, and thanks for the gorgeous couch that looks smashing in our house :)
enthusiasm for
humor in every day
life/things/people, and is
always the one I can send the "man or
woman?" picture-text/random email
from a dumb kid asking an even more
dumb question, call when I saw the Sara's
Secret billboard with the frightened
cucumber (cracks me up every time),
and she hysterically laughs with me.
In everything else, we are polar opposites:
Jena is blonde haired/blue-eyed/fair-skinned,
I am brunette/green-eyed/dark-skinned (thanks Daddy!), she sings like an angel, I can't
carry a tune in a bucket with a lid, she has no physical rhythm whatsoever (2-left feet to the
max, which is strange because she can pick up any instrument and play it), I can learn dance choreography from a music video by watching it once or twice(just ask the hubs or my folks, they have seen me do it, and I DOMINATE at Wii Dance Party!! You definitely want me on your team), she's flighty, I am very direct, she can go days without a shower and not stink, I sweat like a racehorse and can't go 12 hours without a shower, she hates vegetables (a "salad" for her is a bowl of croutons w/ranch dressing), I can't get enough salad and greens, she is a night-owl, I get horribly cranky if I'm not in bed by 11 PM, she drives a huge beast of a Dodge truck, I drive a crossover Nissan SUV, I lived at the orthodontist office as a tween, she never had to have braces or dental work done, and the list goes on...Jena has worn, and still wears many hats in her life: waitress, telemarketer, teacher, high-school counselor, wedding planner, artist, designer/decorator, gardener, semi-pro singer (visit her website at www.jenawalker.com, or find her on iTunes), divorcee, clinical psychologist for the old and senile ("You like pecker sauce huh?"), and soon to be military wife. God bless her...We fought like cats and dogs growing up, and could barely stand each other for more than a few minutes. But from what I've been told, she was unmercifully mean to me as a little kid...there's apparently a story where she was ruthlessly picking on me for something, and I guess I had had enough, took one of Dad's golf clubs and proceed to chase and whack her with it...I don't remember this at all, but as the expression goes, apparently that was the day the music stopped and she was never THAT mean to me again. With us being five years apart, we didn't become close until after she transferred schools and moved away. This was about the time I was starting high school, and I began to actually miss my sister. There are just some things that parents don't really understand when you're a teenager ya know? Thank the Lord for instant messenger! When my parents finally caved and got a computer/internet, we constantly chatted over IM, and I usually sought her advice for things only "sisters" could really "talk" about. I loved it when she would come home on weekends and tell me all about her classes, professors, college life, travels with her then boyfriend, student teaching, ect. I was happy for her, but yet it still made me yearn even more for a life like her's...she was just "Jena", and the happiest she had ever been. All the high-school/hometown drama that weighed on me (not by choice) was always a brushed-off reassurance when she would say "when you get to college, none of that mess will matter, and no one will give a sh*t, trust me" She gave great advice, but as said in my first intro-post she was incredibly over-the-left-field-fence ADD...my mom was in denial about it for years, thinking that she was just ditzy and absent-minded, but looking back I don't see how Mom didn't put her on adderal from day one. I told you about the pizza/shoe/microwave debacle...that really happened...it was a common occurrence to find such things as a half-prepared sandwich and all the condiments left on the counter, front-door wide open from letting the dog out, all the lights/fans/tv's/radio on, half-empty can of soda in the closet, cordless phone in the fridge, shower running, one shoe in the living room (where was the other one? when they weren't in the microwave? always a mystery...), bag of crackers on the bathroom counter...and where was Jena in all this? Most likely at work, choir practice, out with her boyfriend, or in a lounge chair in the backyard sunning/reading...you would ask her later about said random item/situation that was obviously half-finished and left behind, she would be like "Oh THAT! Well, (that's how it always started) I was in my room reading/listening to the radio and finishing my Dr. Pepper when I realized that my other shoe was still missing and needed to look for it...then I went into all the other rooms looking for it, couldn't find it, then realized it was lunchtime and started to make myself a sandwich when the phone rang and Tasha needed to go out. After I got off the phone and realized what time it was, I needed to shower for (insert whatever she had planned/scheduled) but also remembered that I forgot to mark my place in my book."...okay...but how do you explain the crackers in the bathroom? Riddle me that blondie? This was a constant thing in our house, and we just kinda learned to drop Jena some "reminders" that she was a functional human and to keep track of what she's doing...how she made it through school, college, and a masters degree as well as she did is beyond me. And her room...OMG...it was a momentous day when you could see partial-carpet on the floor, I'll just say that. Having our bedrooms side-by-side growing up was always an obviously hilarious comparison...when we talk about contributing factors to personality traits, I think I developed my OCD-ness for organization just by living within 5-feet of Jena's room. I am not NEARLY as bad as some where I color-coordinate my post-it notes by where that color falls alphabetically, but things are always in some sort of order and PUT AWAY! I can't stand clutter, lights on in a room if no one is in there, food left out on the counter, clothes (clean or dirty) everywhere, it's all so overwhelming...(This was quite an adjustment for king-bachelor/pre-me-moving-in Brian, who still has yet to grasp some of my neuroses, but just HOW hard is it to throw your empty beer can in the trash, put away the Triscuits box, and shut a cabinet door?? Someone PLEASE tell me?! He has a friggin computer science degree, works for one of the nation's top Fortune 500 companies writing software, and can't seem to make the association between an empty can to the trash, or dirty underwear to the hamper...boys...) God love my sister...despite the random antics, she is still the best person to share a big plate of fajitas and a bottle of wine with while just shootin' the breeze and talking about life's blessings and trials. Countless times we have laughed, cried our eyes out, yelled, been pissed off, together...you name it, we've been there. Our bond runs deep, and it is simply irreplaceable.
And last, but certainly not least, my soon-to-be brother-in-law, Scott. Oklahoma native, oldest brother to two vivacious sisters (LOVE those girls!!!), world-traveler, currently on deployment serving in the US Navy, and was recently awarded "Sailor of the Quarter." His military specializations include being a rescue-diver, and also part of an anti-terrorist/anti-pirate "group" if you will. (I don't know military terminology at all, and Jena/Scott both will probably berate me for my lack thereof...) And yes, we constantly give him an overload of pirate jokes and tell him to eat lots of oranges so he won't get scuuuuuuuuurvy, arrrrrrr!! Sorry, had to do it...and going with the trend of running jokes, Scott has the amazing ability to fix and construct anything with a hammer, wood, and duct tape. How he does it, I am not exactly sure, but he pretty much "whittled" his own bed and other various items of furniture and shelving. Its definitely a talent, but also lots of ammunition for giving him a really hard time...I once asked him if he whittled his refrigerator out of a pine tree and arctic ice that an endangered baby seal, he happen to nurse back to health in all of his Navy adventures, brought him in return...yeah, he didn't share my humor, but of course Jena did :) I half-joked that he was going to get him a case of duct tape for Christmas next year, and it wasn't exactly dismissed as a potential gift...and yes, whether Daddy wants to admit it or not, he has a huge man-crush on Scott. Adores my sister? Drinks beer? Country boy? Military? Sharp shooter? Master diver? (Dad was/still is an avid scuba diver) Loves fishing and golf? Oober conservative? OCD with cleanliness and organization? (you should see his tool shed...) Yeah, he's in man-love...hence how Scott was dubbed with the nickname "Captain America", thanks to Brian who willingly takes the 2nd place medal in the son-in-law competition...*sigh* (Mom still adores you honey... and Dad knows you are right for "me") In all seriousness, Scott has been Jena's lifesaver and guardian angel. They met when Jena was the college/career counselor for a local East Texas high school, and he had a short-stent as a Navy recruiter. Jena's high school was one of Scott's schools...they were close friends for years, and then when she finally ended it with her ex (awful husband, he didn't deserve her) Scott was there to pick up the pieces and lend a hand/shoulder to cry on. Jena knew that he had a BIG crush on her for a LONG time, and finally gave in after she filled for divorce. Despite all of her hardships, she is complete with Scott. He treats her like gold, sets her straight when need be (trust me, she needs to be brought back down to earth from time to time) , and just "gets" her inside-and-out. Thank you Scott for making her happy, she certainly deserved it :) And their wedding?? A week in Jamaica??? YEAH 'MON!!!
In the end, you are who you are, and that will never change. Another thing that will never change...family. These crazy and complex people that built me up, and in some way scarred me for life, will always and forever hold a special place in my heart. I would take a bullet for them, and besides Brian of course, they will always come first. They helped me become the independent and unique woman I am today, and I always say thanks and that I love them at every opportunity. I suggest you do the same...pennies for your thoughts, as always :)
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