Katrina and her waves
Our thoughts and prayers for those in Katrina's wake
The entire TrueHeart family sends their thoughts and prayers to those in the way of Katrina.
I was a two week old infant when a hurricane blew through the Lake Jackson/Freeport Texas area--my birthplace and the first of many, many homes my family occupied through the years. It was a defining moment in our family story.
My parents were in their early twenties trying to find themselves, establish some kind of marriage and family as well as raise a couple of babies. In those days it was a matter of doing what ever one could do to earn a pay check. (Some things never change.) My mom was from a family of school teachers and was following in those footsteps. My dad always had a restless entreprenurial spirit and was doing what ever he could.
One of the things he was the very best at was pitching fast pitch softball. In 1959 Texas, there was no pro football or pro baseball, hockey or basketball. People in the state followed their home town high school and college teams. However there was the phenomenon not seen today of men's fastpitch softball. It was a fast game played by tough men who played it as a life or death event...just like their fathers, brothers and uncles who fought WWII and in Korea. My dad played with some veterans. And these guys filled the community ball parks.
Dad was considered a primier player. He pitched in 4 World Tournaments and had a winning record in those games--all by the age of 23 or so. Softball was life--for my dad. He grew up in Austin and was a desirable commodity as a pitcher. In 1956/57 the team in Lake Jackson needed a good pitcher and to entice him to play for them they lined up some employment (Teams couldn't pay players as softball was considered an ameture sport--but that's for another story.) as well as set up a blind date with my mom for him. She was Miss Brazosport High and was (and still is) a true southern belle and beauty. Both ploys worked and dad was smitten with Lake Jackson, my mom and events, predictable and otherwise unfolded over the next couple of years.
Fast forward a couple of years--marriage, new business, two new babies and pitching softball. Life was good. In late June of 1959 with a hurricane bearing down on Lake Jackson, right on the Texas gulf coast my dad and his team, the Lake Jackson Gators, took off for south Texas for a softball tournament. I don't recall the outcome of the tournament, but "the rest of story" goes like this: My mother spent the night as the hurricane blew through Lake Jackson in the hall of their small house with a flashlight and a 2 year old toddler, my sister Karen and a 2 week old infant, me. The experiences was none too pleasant for mom. The wind was breaking limbs, uprooting trees, flooding and general hurricane damage kept her awake all night.
By the time the team got home from playing their tournament, the debris from the storm was considerable. A large tree had fallen close to the house. And mother in her agitated state of mind sent a message to her new husband as to exactly what she thought about him abandoning her with his two young children in a hurricane: His best pair of slacks were ripped at the crotch and in amongst a pile of his clothes in the driveway. At that point dad got the message that his softball days were coming to a close.
This led, twenty years later, I believe to him pointing out that my days of two timing a music career and working in the family sales and marketing firm would not be an option. If he couldn't have it both ways, then I couldn't either! I chose the later and set aside my passion for music until 2 years ago at which time, Pat, Karen and I elected to follow the sage advice of Rodney Dangerfield in "Caddyshack:" "Let's go while we're young!"
So we've been there, done that and we are hoping that the folks in the path of this hurricane will hunker down, stay dry and soon be "Walking on Sunshine" as Katrina and her waves and winds do their worst.
