Lunch with Nasser

For my last visit with Nasser we decided to mix things up a little bit and go somewhere off campus. We had talked about getting lunch somewhere before so that seemed like the logical thing to do. Nasser suggested that we go to Terra, a Mediterranean restaurant on west 7^th street. Apparently it was one of Nasser’s favorite restaurants and had some of his favorite dishes from home. I hadn’t eaten Mediterranean food in a long time so I trusted Nasser’s opinion and got what he suggested, I really enjoyed the food, plus it was a buffet so you can never really go wrong with that.

Technically this was my last required visit with Nasser, but as we will both be living here this summer I plan to keep in touch with him and hang out with him over the summer. We have learned a lot about each other and our different cultures. Who knew that I would have a friend from Saudi Arabia? There is no end to the things that we can discuss and compare from each of our lives. It really is fascinating to be able to learn firsthand about a person from a completely different side of the world and what its like for them to live in my world for a few years. We always learn about places from textbooks or professors, but there’s something about being able to have a discussion with someone who has the experience rather than just the information. I think its great that we are able to talk to our peers, not just someone from a different country, but also someone whom we can identify with more closely because of our age and our common experiences.

Looking back to a few months ago to our first meeting it seems like its been much longer than just three or four months. I have really enjoyed getting to know Nasser and I hope he feels the same about me. Every time we meet his English gets better and better, I think this last time I only had to help him with one or two words, and we didn’t have any misunderstandings at all. As much as I would like to take credit for this I don’t think I can. I would like to think that I have at least helped him in some small way though, introducing him to new experiences that might be unique to being an American. Its really fascinating to see Nasser learn about something for the first time, especially when its something that he is amazed by. I remember when we went to the TCU baseball game and he finally started to understand the game, it was great to see him watch something for the first time that I have grown up with all of my life. I'm sure that I would be just as awed if I traded places with Nasser and visited Saudi Arabia, which I hope to do someday. But, until then I plan on keeping up with Nasser and continuing this friendship that we have formed.

My Uncle

My Uncle has always been a fun person to hang around. When we still lived in Lubbock I used to spend much of my summers living with him and my cousins on their farm. Although my cousins were much older than me (about 10-12 years) they still enjoyed hanging out with me and would always include me in their plans. My uncle lived in a small town called Plains, Texas which literally had two stoplights. His farm was about fifteen minutes outside of town and he grew cotton and peanuts and raised cattle.

My uncle has always been a very smart person; he has two degrees from Texas Tech University, one of which is engineering. My mom always thought it was a waste that he spent his time farming, but it was something that he really enjoyed and that he was good at. He was always at his shop building some new piece of equipment that would make his life easier. I remember one summer that he bought an old truck of some sort and converted it to help him in harvesting his peanuts. He would usually include me in these projects and give me some small task to do such as drilling some part or assembling something. He even taught me to weld when I was eleven years old. Then he would just give me a bunch of scrap metal and tell me to build something out of it. It was basically like Legos on steroids, I could build anything I wanted and if I needed something cut a certain way I would explain it to him and he would cut it out for me. I used to spend hours on end welding up awesome objects and I still know how to weld today thanks to him.

As I mentioned earlier he also had a farm where he grew cotton and peanuts. What’s cooler to a young boy than getting to drive heavy equipment all day? Not much, and that was the coolest part, he would let me sit on his lap and steer the tractor while we were plowing the fields. As I got older he would even let me drive the tractors by myself, probably not the best decision he ever made, but I never broke anything. He also had four-wheelers that he would let me ride around and herd the cattle with. I don’t know if you’ve ever chased cows on an ATV but I'm pretty sure it would still be fun today, in fact I don’t know that it ever gets old.  He even taught me how to drive his truck, again something most people would probably not do, but it seemed that he trusted me and knew what I was capable of. This was probably the main reason I liked hanging out with him. He would just about give me free rein and rarely said no to anything I asked. He was much like the father figure that was missing in my life since my mother and father were divorced.

Sadly, when we moved from Lubbock to Graham most of my visits to his farm ceased. Now we were six hours away instead of one, so it made it hard for my mom to take me so often. I really have some great memories from my time with him and he taught me many lessons. I don’t get to see him as much as I like, in fact I don’t think I’ve seen my uncle since my graduation. I am hoping to be able to visit him this summer and again spend some time at the farm. Who knows maybe it will be the same as it used to be. 

Graham, Texas

In my last blog I gave a little bit of background about where I come form and how I grew up. I tell everyone that I am from Graham, Texas, A small town about an hour and a half west of Fort Worth. That is all true and I am proud of where I am from, but I haven’t always lived my life there. After I finished the fifth grade we moved from Lubbock, Texas to Graham and I wasn’t too excited about it.

I had spent most of my life in Lubbock, at least since I started school. We had family close and that’s where my mother had gone to school and all of my friends were there. My mother had always talked about moving out in the country somewhere where we could have our horses and she could get back into rodeo. I had always thought this was just talk and maybe something she would do when I left for college or when she retired, I had no idea that she was so serious about it. I think after my grandmother died, who lived in Lubbock, there was nothing really keeping my mother there anymore. We had a lake house at Possum Kingdom Lake, close to Graham, so we began looking for a house in that area. I was less than trilled during this whole process, I had always considered myself a city kid and really didn’t have any interest in living on a ranch with horses and participating in rodeos. However, my voted did not constitute a majority in this decision so I was out of Luck. My mother found a nice house in Graham, and we decided to move the summer after my fifth grade year.

It was a big adjustment moving from a college town of nearly 250,000 to Graham with a population barely over 8,000. I thought I was trapped in the middle of nowhere with nothing exciting to do. I didn’t like living on a ranch and I didn’t like all the work that came with it. I started the sixth grade that fall and began making friends easy enough, and to my surprise these people were pretty normal. I wasn’t sure what to expect going in, especially since my graduating class was less than half of what mine was in Lubbock. It became apparent that I would know everyone in my class, and most of the people in the classes above and below me. As my school years progressed I formed many close relationships with these people. There is nothing quite like going to school in a small town. It forces you to be close to a lot of people, and more than anything it makes you appreciate the small things in life. In Graham there wasn’t a whole lot to do except hang out with people, which is what I spend a lot of my time doing. Going to school in Graham also allowed me to do many things, such as play multiple sports, be involved in many club and organizations, and participate in the theatere program. There weren’t any cliques in Graham because everyone knew everyone and everyone interacted.

Looking back I can’t imagine growing up any better way. I had so many experiences that I wouldn’t have been able to have living in a big city. There is just something about small town life that is classic Americana. Sometimes I feel as if I grew up in one of those movies you see about how life used to be, and I think that’s awesome. I also made many close friends in Graham and plan to have those friends for the rest of my life. Living in a small town forges stronger bonds between people, because that’s all you have, and honestly it’s the same people you see all the time. While I am excited to be at TCU and in Fort Worth I love going back to Graham, and I’m proud to be able to call it home.

Pets

My house has always been like a bit of a zoo. When I was twelve we moved to our ranch in Graham, Texas. The whole reason for our moving there was about being closer to our horses and being able to ride them more. I was not used to having to take care of all the animals full time so it was quite an adjustment for me. There were times when I had to get up at six in the morning to get all the horses fed before I went to school. At one point we had twenty horses, among various other animals, and that was more responsibility than I really wanted to deal with.

Most people think horses are so much fun and they dream of living on a ranch with horses. The part they seem to leave out is all the responsibility that horses bring. Horses seem like a lot of fun in your head, but when you have fifteen to twenty of them to deal with on a daily basis things change real fast. Horses aren’t the most cooperative creatures either; they’re actually quite frustrating and difficult to deal with. Oh, and they never get along with each other, its like having a bunch of little kids running around, except they weigh close to 1000 pounds and don’t even consider listening to you.

All this isn’t to say that I didn’t enjoy having horses, because I did, its just that I think of the work before I think of the fun. I participated in my fair share of rodeos and won money, and belt buckles just like people imagine, except probably much less glorified. I made a lot of friends at these rodeos and it was always something fun to do on the weekends. Plus having horses is nice because a lot of your friends a envious and want to come ride. Just like anything else that takes skill its fun to watch those friends who don’t know how to ride horses attempt to do so, especially if they talk like they can ride. So don’t let my first impressions set the tone of this blog, I do enjoy living on a ranch with horses.

What’s strange is that I live in small town Texas and people still are surprised when I tell them that I own horses. I mean its Texas; people do still ride horses here. Of course at the opposite end of the spectrum you have those people who assume that everyone in Texas rides horses and still fight Indians and have gunfights in the streets. Either way it usually provides an interesting conversation.

So although horses can be a lot of work I think that I'm better for growing up on a ranch. It has taught me responsibility and more than anything patience. When I take that into consideration along with the fun that having horses does provide I realize that it wasn’t so bad after all. However, I don’t know that I could live on a ranch with horses later in life; I guess I’ll just have to see.

A Time I was Injured (by myself)

Last year in Milton Daniel hall I incurred a injury that will be with me for the rest of my life. Its actually pretty funny, something that myself and those who were there still get a laugh out of today. At least I left my mark on Milton as it left its mark on me.

It all started on a Thursday night, the week before Easter if I recall and we were all hanging out in the basement of Milton, doing homework and talking. I'm not sure how it came about, but for some reason we, or maybe just me decided to try and jump up and touch my head on the ceiling. After a few close attempts I decided that it was because I didn’t want to hit my head too hard on the wood panel ceiling in the basement. So someone suggested that we go into the hallway where the drop-down ceiling would give if I did hit my head on it. This seemed like a logical solution so we proceeded to the hallway to attempt the feat there. After more attempts I decided that it would be beneficial for me to get a running start in order to get more height. So I stepped back and took a running jump at the ceiling. I’m not sure who designed that ceiling but I question their decision to this day. There is about a 3 or 4 inch lip where the drop-down ceiling meets the wooden ceiling. Needless to say I did accomplish my goal, I touched my head on the ceiling, but I also hit the lip. When I landed I just thought I had bumped my head on the lip, but then people were staring and I felt something drip down my face.

There was much debate of whether I should go to the hospital or not, I was opposed to going, but some people thought it would be a good idea. So, at midnight I arrived at JPS hospital and took a spot in the ER. By this time I had stopped bleeding heavily so I didn’t think I had any reason for being there. They put me in a neck brace, which was more frustrating than useful. I was then ushered back to some other area where they were treating patients. No one knew what to make of my story, which is understandable. Anyway, I eventually saw the doctor and he informed me that I would need two stitches in my forehead. And of course the night wouldn’t be complete without people taking pictures of me getting a shot and stitches in my head. I finally left the hospital at about 1:30 AM feeling pretty dumb, but oh well.

I still have that scar today and I still don’t know exactly why I decided to hit my head on the ceiling. It was definitely a poor life choice and one that I regret making. But there is nothing I can do about it now so I just embrace my stupidity and go on with the rest of my life until I find some other dumb thing to do.

The Oldest Person I Know

The oldest person I have ever met is my own grandmother. She turn 99 years old just a few weeks ago. Its amazing to think that she’s almost to 100 years old, quite a milestone in anyone’s life, assuming they even get there. I can remember when we were celebrating her 80s birthdays and even then it was pretty impressive.

For a woman of 99 my grandmother is pretty sharp. The years have taken a toll on her body just as they would on anyone else, she can still walk, feed herself, and perform most basic functions, just at a much slower pace. She has lived on her own up until about five years ago. Her mind though doesn’t seem to have aged nearly as much. She and my father will spend hours recalling people, places, and events from their past, and she usually remembers anything my father will bring up. Of course, she has her good days and her bad days, but even on those bad days she never fails to impress me with her memory.

I can’t even begin to imagine all the things she has seen. The changes and innovations she has witnessed must have been incredible. If you do the math, she was born in 1913; this means she witnessed World War I, the roaring 20s, the great depression, World War II, John F. Kennedy, The Vietnam war, the space race, the fall of the Soviet Union, television, the evolution of transportation, computers and those are just some of the things that come to mind. It must have been amazing to see the future actually come about, especially in an era where change was so rapid. Not many people have had this kind of opportunity. This is why I try and take advantage of this and listen to the stories she has to tell. Most of them are filled with humor, which she still has a great appreciation for.

I just hope that I will get a fraction of that experience that she has been given. I have already seen many amazing things in my short life and there is no telling what the future may hold. In the mean time I will continue to cherish the gift that is my grandmother and I hope she will live many more years and who knows, maybe even set a record.

Ladies' Home Journal 1958

Today I read an article from the March, 1958 issue of “Ladies’ Home Journal”. The piece was about drug addiction in America’s youth and I was curious to see how this would be different from today’s opinions and stories. The article also contained one personal account from a young Hispanic boy living in New York city who was addicted to heroine.

The article starts off by explaining that drug addiction in teens is a fairly new principle. It seems that typical drug abusers used to be adults in the latter parts of their lives. The article makes a point that drugs are a “big-city problem” and that most teen users come from poor neighborhoods, however that doesn’t mean that all youth in poor neighborhoods use drugs. An interesting point that the piece makes is that drug abusers aren’t usually related to gangs, which we would now, and maybe even then say isn’t true. Especially given the drug manufacturing and trafficking nature of many gangs. At any rate the article suggested that teens in gangs who abused drugs would often lose favor of the elder members, or even lose leadership positions because of their addiction. Back in the good old days when gangs had values and morals, or not. Overall the article seems to point out the problem, but then try and suggest that it isn’t really that big of a deal.

The more personal story is that of a teenage boy named Manuel who is growing up in the various neighborhoods of New York city when he becomes addicted to first marijuana, and then heroine. It all starts when he is smoking pot in the club with his friends and cousins who are all in a gang together. This quickly escalates to using heroine and then eventually cutting it with sugar and redistributing it to fund his habit. After being put in rehab for the first time Manuel realizes that he has a problem and wants to stop using and marry his girlfriend. Unfortunately, like so many addicts he is back on heroine weeks after he leaves rehab. He will ultimately battle with his addiction for several years and revisit rehab many times as well as be arrested for selling to an officer. The article never concludes what happens to Manuel in the end, but one certainly hopes he has learned his lesson and comes clean. Hopefully all of this has been a coming of age for Manuel and he is now ready to face the world as an adult.

It’s interesting taking a step back in time and reading something from over half a century ago. The writing style, the word choice, and the overall content is very different from publications today. There were several instances in which I laughed because they had to explain to readers that “down means ready for anything” or when Manuel talks about buying diddybop clothes, which I still have no idea what that means. Its weird to imagine what an entire world of this would be like, but that probably explains a lot about why my parents are so strange.