Today was very nice. Holly gave me a pedicure and colored my hair. She and Dan bought me a set of salt and pepper shakers from Iraq and Holly cooked baked ham, potato salad and white beans for supper. Nicole gave me her special homemade Mother’s Day cards with a hand drawing of myself with a big smile on my face and big eyes twinkling. It truly amazes me when I see myself through Nicole’s eyes…and all that love makes me feel deeply! Stacy drove in to bring me a beautiful bouquet of flowers with a large chocolate heart. Maria called and wished me a Happy Mother’s Day and to say they will be here next Friday to stay the weekend. Then to top all of that Ken brought me a live trellis plant to remember Mother’s Day year after year. I called my own mother early this morning to wish her a Happy Mother’s Day too. Each breath she takes is a struggle and I know each year I have her is a blessing because her health is so bad. My cousins voiced their thoughts about their mother in heaven, as well as many of my friends sharing their loss ….thinking about what they would do if only they had one more day with their moms. Another cousin said she felt the urge to hug an older lady today….just because she needed it. I remember my mother braiding my hair so tightly that I just knew I was Chinese for many years.

However, the most important part of my day was spent with Holly this year. She and I laughed about all the things we remembered about growing up with me as her mom. I remembered the many times we were driving in the car and she would see something and scream for my attention…causing me to slam on the brakes because I thought something was wrong. We talked about school and her childhood friends and escapades…some of which I knew nothing about …but yet knew somehow. She told Stephen to eat his beans and they argued over it…and she said when she was his age she ate what was put in front of her with no argument…and that I wouldn’t let her argue. I remember driving her to school and singing to her in the car….her begging me to stop yet continued to sing. She remembered that oh so well. I have so many memories of each day she has lived on this earth and the road we both have travelled to get us to the relationship we now have together. Both of us have planted yucca plants under Stephen and Nicole’s bedroom windows…because we know how difficult it will be when they become teenagers to climb out their windows with pointy yucca plants in the way. Tomorrow Holly and I will go to her pre-op for her surgery on Thursday. This will be the very first time she will have surgery. Together we will do this…just like together we have travelled her life. The hours went by fast this Mother’s Day as we talked and talked and talked. I will cherish this day forever!

By Christian Struzan
YOU WANT TO GET MAD? We had eight years of Bush and Cheney, but now you get mad! You didn’t get mad when the Supreme Court stopped a legal recount and appointed a President. You didn’t get mad when Cheney allowed Energy company officials to dictate energy policy. You didn’t get mad when a covert CIA operative got ousted. You didn’t get mad when the Patriot Act got passed.. You didn’t get mad when we illegally invaded a country that posed no threat to us. You didn’t get mad when we spent over 600 billion(and counting) on said illegal war. You didn’t get mad when over 10 billion dollars just disappeared in Iraq. You didn’t get mad when you found out we were torturing people. You didn’t get mad when the government was illegally wiretapping Americans. You didn’t get mad when we didn’t catch Bin Laden. You didn’t get mad when you saw the horrible conditions at Walter Reed. You didn’t get mad when we let a major US city drown. You didn’t get mad when we gave a 900 billion tax break to the rich. You didn’t get mad when, using reconciliation; a trillion dollars of our tax dollars were redirected to insurance companies for Medicare Advantage which cost over 20 percent more for basically the same services that Medicare provides. You didn’t get mad when the deficit hit the trillion dollar mark, and our debt hit the thirteen trillion dollar mark. You finally got mad when the government decided that people in America deserved the right to see a doctor if they are sick. Yes, illegal wars, lies, corruption, torture, stealing your tax dollars to make the rich richer, are all okay with you, but helping other Americans… oh hell no. AND NOW YOU’RE MAD !

My best friends gave me an opportunity to live on a beautiful ranch in Bergheim, Texas for about 10 years. During that time I raised kids, dogs, goats, calves, sheep, turtles, horses and ran my own business. One day, my best friend, Jerry, decided that his wife, Susan, and I should learn how to operate a handgun, for protection. Recently, a rancher’s wife was attacked and murdered by an illegal immigrant who came on her ranch when everyone else was gone. So, Jerry hired a specialist and brought him out to the ranch one Saturday for our first lesson. While writing this memory, I asked my husband what I should call this man who was teaching Susan and I to shoot the handgun. Ken immediately replied, “a dumb-ass!” Well, anyway, this gentleman was very knowledgeable and had taught at the Army base in San Antonio so I felt very comfortable learning from such an expert.

Now, this was not my first time in operation of a weapon as my first husband had taken me squirrel and deer hunting on several occasions. I might add here that only one animal has ever been affected by my hunting skills as I often said if I actually killed something, it would have been that the animal climbed up on the barrel, got me off balance and the gun would go off accidentally… or, in other words, the animal chose my gun to commit suicide. My last hunting excursion was when I was only 23 and I shot a poor squirrel, and didn’t kill it. It climbed into a hole in the tree and cried loudly. I never hunted again because of that incident.

My husband, Ken, decided to take me hunting deer with him, only once. He said I made noise and had to pee too much. Even then, he was able to kill a young buck and as I watched this happen, I was horrified and screamed at him that I would never go hunting with him again that he was a baby animal killer! I cried for the rest of the day.

So, back to my learning how to operate a handgun….. the gentleman sat down and showed Susan and me how to handle the gun properly, how to load the gun, how to take it apart and clean it…the whole nine yards of speeches on gun safety and the basic gun handling 101 course was complete. The next step was to take us to the target range to learn how to shoot the handgun. Susan took a stance lifted her handgun and steadied it with her other hand. She aimed, shot and hit the target. We all clapped and laughed and were so excited. Then, it was my turn. I did everything exactly the way Susan did except hit the target. I hit everything else in a 30 yard radius other than the target. Shot after shot I tried, to no avail. The training session was over. The sun was setting. The handgun specialist went home.

Several weeks later Susan and I went on a trip from San Antonio to Beaumont. The road between Houston and Beaumont is very isolated. There is only one rest stop and we both felt it was necessary to pull into the rest stop. There were several cars near the restrooms with some men with tattoos working on a car. We looked around and instantly felt uneasy. Susan said, “I’m going to take the gun in with us for safety.” I watched her put the gun in her purse, step out of the car and lock it. We both walked into the restroom together. Susan told me to stand outside her stall and to tell her if any of those men came in. Here she is sitting on the pot with a handgun in her hand and me alone outside her stall as the “real target!”

It really was uneventful…the normal pee and leave routine that travellers do. But at that moment I really wished I had been better at the target training because I, and not Susan, would be holding the gun. We got back into the car and proceeded on with our trip.

A couple of weeks later, my uncle came to visit. Jerry told him about my terrible use of the handgun…as I was possibly untrainable. My uncle calmly told Jerry, “Well, as I see it Deb needs a shotgun with full choke….hand it to her and say shoot and keep shooting. She’ll be fine from then on.” From that point on, I am a shotgun momma. Have had one by my desk for years. All I know how to do is lift and pull that trigger. I have never had any intention of using this gun for anything than protection of myself or my family; but, if you try to take my gun away, I’ll be the first one to tell you no, you can’t.

The morning was going just fine. It was Saturday and Nicole was outside helping her dad tinker with stuff. I was playing a game of scrabble online and the telephone rang. I answered it and it was our middle daughter’s significant other. He told me she had left for work at 6 pm last night and had not returned. My heart skipped a few beats. I asked him if they had fought over something. He said, “no.. I kissed her goodbye before she left for work.” I said this was not like her and why didn’t he contact me last night. He said he left a text message at midnight… of course, I didn’t check my phone at midnight because I was asleep. I immediately called her phone and she didn’t answer. Fear set in and I started crying…walked outside and told Ken, “we have a problem, Stacy didn’t come home after work last night and Darren hasn’t heard from her.” He immediately came in and both of us started calling her friends. I called my other daughter, my mother, a few of Stacy’s friends. I was in terror mode! I called my next door neighbor and told her and the phone rang…it was another text message….from Stacy. She said, “mom, I’m ok. Darren and I had a fight and I am with some friends trying to relax from all of it!” I then called Darren and asked him why he lied to me about them not fighting, when in fact, they had.

I realized at that moment I had become the “bait” on his fishing pole. He was fishing for information and did not even consider how much fear it would cause her father and I. Just when you think you have finished the job as parent, you are thrown back into another time.

Immediately, I began scolding him. I didn’t want to know what their fight was about. I didn’t think it had anything to do with me. However, I told him he needed to decide whether he could commit to a relationship or not. I hung up and then Stacy called and we talked. She said she was sorry but she never thought Darren would call us when he knew they had a fight.

I am thankful that all has been resolved. The two of them sat down and worked out the problem (me thinks). They are coming for supper today. I now know what the feeling is when a mother’s worse fear surfaces….it is not something I ever want to endure again.

Last summer Texans watched empty rain clouds roll in and out on a daily basis. Lakes, rivers, aquafer, ponds (tanks here in Texas) all dried up. Water sports was a much wished for commodity. The temperatures were constantly over 100. During the winter rain came finally. All the lakes, rivers, ponds (Texas tanks) have finally come up to normal levels. This spring we’ve brought in more top soil and new plants for the flower beds and vegetables for the garden beds. We all hope to have some production. This reminds me of the plight of farmers who depend on weather for their financial well-being. We all complain about the price of groceries but never dig deeper into the roots of the problem. People say we do not have global-warming and that it is pure politics. We celebrated 40 years of Earth Day successes. The air is cleaner but hidden from us are many environmental threats to Earth’s gardens, animals, fish and birds. We all teased about doing rain dances last summer, and said we were “praying” for rain but nothing happened until it was “time” to happen. So, the question is, “when is timing” and how do we deal with “timing?” I say the time is now for all of us to do everything in our power to be good stewards of our Earth. We need to be examples to our children and our neighbors. When we all start doing our share, even if it doesn’t rain, we will be prepared. We need to remember the Texas drought and how it took away so many of our natural resources…resources that all of us have a tendency to take for granted. Live like there will not be rain again and then enjoy it when it comes.

We are connected now…through internet technology….on facebook, myspace, email, photo sharing…every way you can imagine yet the years between graduation and today hold the reality of personalities formed early in a lifetime. Those brave enough to actually attend these reunions are always hopeful in the beginning, thinking people who they absolutely loved are still the same people…and, of course, those who they hated…have been served a life of hell for their sins.

There is always hugging and kissing and laughter in the reunion. Promises to keep in touch. Sharing of personal information that you would not share with your next door neighbor…but, nonetheless, shared with someone they haven’t had any contact with in 40 years…just because of this invisible, lifetime bond shared as an alumni.

As I veiw the interactive postings, little informational blurbs, see who accepts who as a “friend,” or family pictures, I am reminded of all the times in my past where I really wanted to go back to high school with the “life experiences from the school of hard knocks” to see if it would be any different. Maybe I wouldn’t tell a schoolmate that she didn’t really need a bra yet in the 8th grade…or, maybe I would say she looks better with a bra on…both being equally goofy statements. But, maybe I would say that I pray she never suffers from breast cancer and to flaunt them as much as she wants, while she still has them.

Recently, a young friend of mine asked me if he could see a picture of me when I was young. I showed him and he said, “wow!” I said, “it is amazing what years can do to change a person’s appearance” …and equally as amazing to change a person’s soul. I asked him if it was what he expected and his response was, “I had a feeling.”

I still find myself being critical of others at times, even though I know my time to be judged is on the same level. So, I try real hard to look beyond the wrinkles, weight, graying hair and deeper into what the individual surrounds him/herself with to keep them safe from teenage fears that few will admit are always laying dormant in the thing we call our self-confidence and self-esteem. I really try to forget all the bullies in school…who always seemed to have a little crowd following them so they would be left out of such treatment. 40 years or 100 years will pass yet high school will always be somewhere within each of us.

Life goes on, the reunion will fade back into the shadows and we will continue to live our lives the best way we can. We will get closer to our family or we will move further away. Whatever we do, we do to protect ourselves the same as we do when we lock the doors at night before going to bed….knowing full well and good that locks only keep innocent people out….and a lock on your heart only keeps the pain one or two layers below the good feelings.

I was born in Port Arthur, Texas, the eldest of 4 kids. My father was German-French and my mother Russian-French. Historically, Port Arthur is a melting pot of different cultures with the Acadian French and Cajun families being predominant. Only 15 miles away, Beaumont, Texas, has a broader spectrum of nationalities. Having grown up in a politically based family from that area, I know there are two strong political forces there. One is Port Arthur-Louisiana politics, and the other is Beaumont politics. My great-grandfather Provost migrated to Port Arthur almost immediately after the Cholera Epidemic in and around New Orleans when so many died. He moved his entire family to Port Arthur for a new start and worked in the City of Port Arthur Warehouse. He died in his fifties while on a daily delivery and his horse carried him home that day.

I am very interested in old Louisiana and Southern family culture and religious interactive phases. On the religious side, I am very interested in Vodoun or Voodoo influence within the Catholic Church, as relates to the cajun and slave communities. This influence is most powerful within the old acadian families and I believe it is the roots from where I grew! To understand the “where it came from” sheds light upon the “who and what” of today.

I was educated, as most of the Provost family, in the Catholic faith as well as in Catholic School. I started 1st grade at St. James Catholic School (went to Nederland Public school 3 years) and graduated from Bishop Byrne High School. So, part of my determination stems from the strong influence of several self-made women: “nuns.” These nuns taught me how to learn on my own and they shared with me the true meaning of self-discipline. I founded my womanhood and career on what I was taught. They say “ONCE CATHOLIC, ALWAYS CATHOLIC” but over the years I have shied away from Catholic indoctrination and moved forward into a deeper idealistic attitude about organized religion. I do believe and have faith in a power higher than myself and try hard to live in a spiritual place.

I was raised in a musically inclined family. My paternal grandma was originally from Jeanerette, Louisiana. She was raised on a Provost plantation and had formal music tutors as a young girl. My father played every stringed instrument you could imagine and actually accompanied Tyrone Powers for a short time. My father personally taught every one of his 4 children music and we had a family band. We would practice in the evenings and our neighbors would bring lawn chairs into our backyard so they would hear us practicing. Over the years we entertained publicly and our family band grew to include other musicians, or wannabe musicians, from all around!

Life in the Port Arthur (lived in Nederland from 9 years old to 25 years old) area was wonderful! Our family was close and most of my best lessons in life came from my family. We drifted down the Bayous, dark and still, while the moss hung limply from the trees on the banks! We fished, crabbed and shrimped then came home to prepare the evening meal. We cut our teeth on “red pepper” and learned how to eat crawfish as our first “finger food!” We imagined ourselves at sea with the great pirate/ancestor, Jean Lafitte…Jean Lafitte, pirate/vampire/patriot of the War of 1812 (Battle of New Orleans), my geneological history. This may explain part of the rebel in my personality…however, I don’t expect it to completely exonerate me!

And when the great weather change occurs on the coast, many Port Arthur refugees ran to safety. Our family weathered those storms several times. During Carla, we had to be evacuated to San Augustine, Texas and found shelter in the courthouse. The jury room cots were our beds and the courtroom our playground. All the cousins participated with our eldest cousin being Judge. Many of us had our first taste of how cruel the justice system could be when Judge Charles issued the verdict for our crimes! So, began my own political foundation…never trust your cousin, if he is the Judge.

Sometimes things don’t turn out like you dreamed they would. In 1980, my wonderful father died at the age of 50. The Texas recession hit and many of the refineries closed causing small businesses supporting commerce to collapse. At that time, I found it necessary to relocate to a better economical region.

Hence, the great Hill Country relocation to live on a real working ranch in the Hill Country at Bergheim, Texas. Nestled in a 500-acre ranch with many oak trees, my large rock home built after the turn of the century! A “tank” (Pond) with catfish so full that all you had to do was stomp on the bank and see them surface! The ranch has a quietness to it where you can be swallowed up for life! You can walk down the ranch road on a cool Winter day and actually see the breath of a small squirrel searching for its “winter stash!” And, Spring, lovely Spring, where all the babies are born and run and jump..excited just for one new day! To live as part of it all instead of in it? Those are memories I share with anyone looking for romance! Or, you can ask me to tell you a few of my special “Texas Tales,” just to keep the conversation going.

Ken and I met in 1991 and married August, 1992 and relocated to Illinois for 5-years. The weather was too harsh for me, and I missed my family and friends, and more than anything, THE GREAT STATE OF TEXAS! I felt like a salt-water fish flopping around in a fresh water tank! So, on February 3, 1999 we relocated to Smithville, Texas to set up business and our home….. never again to leave Texas! Our roots are in place again. With Texas license plates and driver’s licenses, we both are very happy to be home again!

Our family tends to grow outward and there is always an extra chair pulled up to the dinner table. I know I’ve added more than a cup of water to the gravy in order to stretch the meals and so far I’ve not run out of extra pillows and blankets to create another sleeping pad. We’ve had baby skunks and o’possums, field mice and bugs, and done mouth-to-mouth life saving techniques on a baby rabbit that the dog thought we might enjoy for supper. We have a permanent burial ground for pets; some of which weren’t even ours.

We agree to disagree on many topics and I really don’t think our home is based on democracy. Every one has an opinion about something, but no one really listens to them anyway. I feel it safe to say that we consider ourselves quite normal–no matter what others think. One of the kids wants Barney shot and the other one loves Barney.

One kid thinks dad loves them more and all of them use what ever technique necessary to get attention–so, that must not be too important anyway. Well, whatever happens on a day to day basis, we’re still here for each other. And, I kinda like that feeling.

Behind every “good woman” is a “good family.” Without my family, I would have a very empty life. Ken and I spent 8 years as foster parents and many of our foster children have made our family their “forever family.” Many of our foster kids (adults now) still call us mom and dad (and some “grandma and grandpa” ) — forever — after they aged out of the foster care system. Part of our children still live in Illinois….the other part in Texas. Although miles separate us physically — distance doesn’t break the bond of our love!

My husband, Ken Nyberg, the greatest thing since the invention of the mouse trap! He has been a wonderful father to our children and a great husband for over 18 years now. Ken holds everything in our lives together with baling wire and thinks friends don’t let friends drive anything but Chevrolet. He has a John Deere tractor collection and still plays with them. Ken is an over-grown kid and you can find him tinker’n on something 24 hours a day. He is a Park Ranger for Bastrop State Park, in Bastrop, Texas.

When I turned 50, we adopted another little girl, Catherine Nicole. Her adoption was final September 25, 2003. She turned 8 years old on July 17th. She is now attending Brown Primary as a second grade student. Nicole is the mistress of the entire Smithville Nyberg Clan!

A facebook poster stated, “…I’m so conservative, I squeak!!! I’m sick of liberals trying to tell me what to do with my money too. I’m sick of them giving it all away to people who do nothing to earn or deserve it.”

REALLY? (1) ARE YOU GOING TO COLLECT SOCIAL SECURITY … that was voted in by liberal democrats years ago. Are you going to be on Medicare after you turn 65… that too was voted in by liberals!

And, all these so called “people who do nothing to earn or deserve it” are teachers who teach our children for pennies and law enforcement who protect the people but can’t afford to even put food on the table …. you better be more specific when you are saying liberals are the fault for the state of the economy…. make your point but show facts!

And why are you not concerned about all the money lost in the stock market and greedy conservatives in banking and the bailout that Bush and his cronies passed before a liberal got in? Debt was not brought into the subject until the Republicans decided what to do with “our” money….now we are in the process of cleaning everything up …liberally!

Are we to understand that as a Christian, your prayer to our Heavenly Father is to take the President of the United States away from his little girls and make a widow of his wife…all for political motivation? It is truly amazing what Christianity sanctions as prayer, constitutes murder. I Gotta rethink Christianity now.

The following so-called “prayer” is being sent all over facebook. I take offense to this! My comment above is in direct reaction to it. “DEAR LORD, THIS YEAR YOU TOOK MY FAVORITE ACTOR, PATRICK SWAYZIE. YOU TOOK MY FAVORITE ACTRESS, FARAH FAWCETT. YOU TOOK MY FAVORITE SINGER, MICHAEL JACKSON. I JUST WANTED TO LET YOU KNOW, MY FAVORITE PRESIDENT IS BARACK OBAMA. AMEN”