John Goodman

 

I’m so pleased to see that John Goodman has honored MSU.

When my brother and I were in college, as Juanita K was being built, we got to take him around campus. In normal Nance fashion, I parked too close to the next car at one place. I said, “oh sir, I apologize! Can I re-park?” As a true gentleman, he slinked out of that Cadillac like a champ. I was mortified.

Years later, Big Daddy Rowe took us to see the fam in LA, to see “Murphy Brown,” (my nirvana), and to see Mr. Goodman at a taping of “Roseanne.” First of all, the episode was about masturbation. I sat next to my parents and watched this business. Imagine my horror. Secondly, that horrible Tom Arnold offered a signed script between scenes if someone would perform. My father nudged me and said, “you can do something!” Never one to disappoint Pops, or to back down from a challenge, the next thing I knew, I was before a theatre audience, belting “God Bless America” like Ethel Merman.

That happened. I got the script.

Afterward, we got to see Mr. Goodman backstage. He said, “that was you?” He was the best.

My life has been full of things you can’t make up. These are a few hot nuggets.

All the love

 

I am a Christian. I’m a sinner. I’ve made some mistakes. But I’m all right. I don’t believe I’ll be burned at the stake. Maybe I should be. But I’ve raised two solid kiddos, I’ve spent some time with wonderful Parkview kids, MSU kids, OTC kids.

I love kids. That’s the stuff. Every day is a delight.

This pic popped up today, as they tend to do on the FB. On the day this was taken, my little angel stood at the edge of my yard as I ran to the church where I vote. She didn’t leave until she saw me running home, at which she lost her mind. She just wanted me back.

What I have learned is that we should VOTE! I’ve also learned the love of dogs, biological children, and  students, makes up for all the rest.

That’s all.

 Hard things

I’ve been thinking about the things that are hard. Adulting is a monster. 

Not hard? Watching the Golden Girls every day.

Hard? Raising the children.

Not hard? Takeout.

Hard? Cooking.

Choose your life. I’m a big fan of raising great kiddos. I’m also a fan of not being in a wreck of a marriage and finding true love with a man named Jim.

Also, Nanny rocked.

Pawpaw

 

October 19, 2022

My Pawpaw Rowe died on this day in 1979. Mom had died that January, my great grandmother, Nanny Great, had died in the interim. I had a hideous bowl cut, and thought, “who is next?” How many more funeral dinners are up?

But my Dad’s father was a tough nut. He had an 8th grade education, and ran a farm. My Pops knew he wanted to not run a farm, but PawPaw never got to see what Poppo did. Dad grew up so poor. I think of what PawPaw would think of things now. He was born in 1901.

Today, I know my Dad has a lump in his throat. He has outlived William Loy Rowe Senior by 3 years now. The takeaway, is that it is good to remember.

It’s also good to remember extra crispy chicken for Baptist funeral dinners. Just saying.

Heart Bend

 I’ve been thinking of heartbreak.

Tony Campolo once said that, if you’re a Christian, your heart will break at the things that will break the heart of Jesus. I think that’s true. I think Jesus would be most broken-hearted by discrimination, prejudice, cancer, murder, pain, abuse…the list goes on and on.

What heartbreak looks like to earthlings is more acute, I believe. Lately, it has seemed a tad too acute.

My friend, Art Hains, is fighting for his life. You can’t find a better man. I hugged his wife last week and just told her how we love them. You don’t have to be blood to be family.

Today I went to my pastor’s wife’s visitation. Her daughter in law told me, “She didn’t just teach us how to live, she taught us how to die.” Betty was a force in my life, and in the lives of many. Because I am a Christian, I believe she is in a better place. As we drove home, I told my squeeze, Jim, that I don’t weep that she is gone. I weep for all she meant to me. You don’t have to be blood to be family.

Before I was seven, I’d been to more funerals than birthday parties. I know grief. But last week at school I had a conversation with my students about trauma. What some of them have endured is beyond measure.

I’m thinking of making it “heart bend” instead of break. I keep bouncing back; my kiddos at school bounce back. The bend just hurts so very much. But we still have our hearts, and are all the better for the people we love.