Ten Years in Texas

September marks my tenth year in Texas. The actual arrival by rental truck came on Sunday September 16, 2001. I had never been to Texas, although 2 years earlier the news director at KVIA in El Paso interviewed me by phone for an opening in the weather department. I began thinking I was destined to live here when, in the summer of 2001, Houston became a place for possible relocation.

At the time I was married and my radio news anchor wife interviewed for a job at KTRH. We didn’t tell many people about it. We had already moved so many times in the five years prior.

Ogdensburg to Watertown

Watertown to Rome

Rome to New Hartford

New Hartford to Albany

So we did our research of Houston, and didn’t make it known to most people that we could be leaving New York State soon. When the actual job offer came, and she accepted, then we shared the news. Some people we knew were happy for us. Others thought we were just moving on a whim.

In between her accepting the job and us moving, some significant things occurred. My grandfather passed away. Her mother’s health began noticeably failing. And then there was 9/11. The timing of our departure suddenly seemed horribly inconvenient, but there was no looking back.

Okay, there was some looking back after we arrived. On numerous occasions, my wife applied for radio jobs in cities such as Boston, New York and Chicago. I also applied for jobs that would have brought us closer to home again. She and I even developed a pitch for a TV show that would be shot in her hometown of Alexandria Bay, New York. So we weren’t exactly settled here instantly and planning to stay forever. But the move out of Texas never happened, although a move within Texas did occur—first by her and then by me.

Ten years later, I can look back and examine my choice to move to Texas. I wanted a change, a big one. I was not satisfied with where I was, working as a noon news producer at a local TV station. It wasn’t my dream. It wasn’t even my chosen profession. It just happened.

Houston seemed promising in 2001. In many ways, the promise paid off. Opportunities that previously appeared out of reach were realistic in Houston. I discovered new professional challenges and creative endeavors. I stepped away from TV news, except for one part-time stint that lasted a year, and produced TV shows. I wrote my first TV commercials, and began acting in commercials and films. I even started writing books, which may turn into a lifelong pursuit.

My time in Texas has also provided me with another life-altering experience. The birth of my daughter in 2005 is the most memorable moment of my life, and the joy of raising her overpowers any other experience, personal or professional, in my life. As the family’s only native Texan, she is in a class all by herself.  For her, Texas will always be home.

There is also one more valuable aspect of my Texas experience that I must acknowledge. Since arriving here a decade ago, I have met some of the most inspirational and supportive individuals in my life. Some have served as role models and mentors—even without knowing it. Others have provided support in the form of kindness, praise, friendship, even transportation. Their devotion to bettering their own lives and the lives of those around them underscores an important point for me to reflect on as I celebrate ten years in Texas. In the words attributed to Nobel Prize winner Dario Fo, whose controversial and comical works as a playwright and theatre director are popular in Italy: “know how to live the time that is given you.”

Not the Same School

As the school year came to a close in June, Aidan said goodbye to her elementary school. The plan was to move from Lewisville to Richardson a month before she begins first grade.  I felt sentimental during the last time I walked her home after school. We made that same walk so many times, often snacking or sharing a cool drink on the way. Aidan said we could come back from Richardson sometime and do that walk again. I smiled, quietly knowing that her idea would never actually happen.

A few variables prevented that move to Richardson from happening, but we got some surprise news this week that still means Aidan will not be going back to the same school. Oh, she’s going back to the same school building. It retains the same name. Yet something else has changed.

The latest public school accountability ratings in Texas means my daughter’s school has been downgraded from Exemplary to Recognized. It’s a change shared by many schools around the DFW area and around the state. The story was covered by numerous media outlets, including my ex-wife’s radio station, KRLD, a CBS property.

A year ago, the designation of Exemplary or Recognized didn’t matter to me. I wanted her in a good school but I wasn’t aware of the differences. After investing months in her education—and countless hours helping her develop reading and math skills—the change is significant. Even before this news, I was already responding to the normal summertime loss of skills developed in the classroom.

Now that I have this news, helping Aidan do homework in the coming year becomes even more important to me. She’s a bright girl and I want to inspire her to challenge herself more inside and outside the classroom. I also want to facilitate her exploration of new subjects and activities. This may be the year she begins to learn to play the piano. We may also consider signing up for a sport, such as soccer.

I have a feeling we’ll be watching less TV in the coming year and spending more time engaged in educational activities and outdoor recreation. I’m even thinking of setting up an agreement where she has to earn her hours of TV. I think the new brand of structure will be a valuable part of her experience as a first grader.

She doesn’t know anything about the ratings changes. She doesn’t even have an understanding of how different first grade will be yet. She does know that new experiences are coming her way. As August begins, new clothes and new school supplies will accompany the start of a new school year. While she’s enjoying the excitement of all that newness, I will be reminding myself that her school’s new ratings will challenge me to step up my commitment to her education.

Sure, I’ll pause to take plenty of pics of her first day of First Grade, then it’s all business from that point on. That reminds me, I also will need something new before the school year begins: a new wallet filled with cash. I wonder if I can find one at Marshall’s.

The Redefined Addict

The day after Amy Winehouse’s death became international news, a client of mine emailed me. He works at a long-term rehabilitation facility for addicts and alcoholics in Texas called Burning Tree. He wanted a 300-500 word article about the Grammy award-winning singer’s drug addiction and chronic relapse. I wrote it immediately.

While I enjoyed some of her songs, it wasn’t my appreciation of her talents that motivated me to start writing so quickly. Her death reminded me of an addict who spent years in my life, providing some of the worst experiences I remember in two cities: Albany, New York and Houston, Texas. One of the Albany incidents involved discovering him unconscious in his bedroom and struggling to open the door because his body was blocking it. I remember rushing to the phone to call 9-1-1. A 5 am phone call alerted me to an incident a couple years later in Houston. During an apparent drug deal, he had been beaten badly and was in the hospital.

At times, I felt like I hated him. He once “borrowed” some of my clothes and left them at a girlfriend’s apartment. She broke up with him and threw out “his stuff” one day, including a pair of slacks and leather shoes that he took from me.

At times, he inspired me. He often made gourmet meals for my wife and I, entrees I felt compelled to take photos of because they looked so lovely. And he would make these delicious dishes using whatever we already had in the refrigerator and cupboards.

Like Amy Winehouse, his life was like a rollercoaster ride through those years. In addition to taking him to detox, rehab, AA meetings, I accompanied him to court and visited him in jail. He eventually got out, left town, came back, left again, came back, and finally left for good.

If he had been a friend, the relationship with a chronic relapser would have ended a long time ago. But he was my brother-in-law. His sister spent years trying to save him, and finally accepted that he wasn’t willing to save himself. He’s still alive, and although I don’t keep tabs on his arrests and jail time anymore, there is a part of me that is still very concerned. That part of me is my daughter. As her uncle, he will always be part of her family story.

He’s still an addict. He will always be an addict. Yet knowing that my daughter would benefit from seeing her uncle clean and sober helps me redefine him and the experiences I had that were created by his substance abuse and dependence. Even the most difficult moments become stories I can share with Aidan in the coming years, and provide lessons from which to learn.

Meantime, his own life continues somewhere several hundred miles away. I hope he’s okay. I hope he figures it all out. 28 days were not enough. Jail time only helped while he was behind bars. Perhaps finding the means (and funds) to commit to a long-term rehab would have provided a solution years ago. It may still be his only hope.

I’m Addicted (and I just can’t get enough)

It’s Field Day at my daughter’s summer program. The theme: JERSEY DAY. Last night her mom brought over Aidan’s Boston Bruins jersey, an excellent choice following the team’s Stanley Cup victory over the Vancouver Canucks. So dressed as a little Boston Bruin, with her Chorkie puppy in her lap, she and I set off for the 3 mile drive to the school hosting her summer program.

I don’t think we managed to cover half a mile when I started to hear her little voice singing in the backseat:

“I’m addicted and I just can’t get enough, I just can’t get enough, I just can’t get enough …”

She repeated it a few times before we reached the first STOP sign. Hearing my six year old daughter sing the lyrics of a Black Eyed Peas song isn’t a new experience. She loves the group and she’s sung other songs in the car before. But it was this particular song that made me feel compelled to start a conversation about addiction. After all, one of my writing clients is Burning Tree, a long-term drug and alcohol rehabilitation facility in Texas.

Me: Do you know what addiction is?

Aidan: Yes.

Me: What is it?

Aidan: Um…I forgot.

I suspected that answer wasn’t quite true. This girl has an amazing memory. She can recall all kinds of details 24 hours, 1 week, 1 month later. She just needed a little coaxing.

I started by explaining how addiction is a dependence on a substance, one that becomes a habit that’s hard to break. She said, “I’m not addicted to anyone or anything. Are you addicted?” I replied, “I’m not addicted to anyone or anything either.” She seemed happy to hear that statement.

As we continued chatting, it was obvious that she’s had the addiction conversation before with her mother. Her mom knows more than a thing or two about addiction. In fact, she has a brother who’s been dealing with multiple addictions for more than two decades. I’m sure Aidan has learned a lot by listening to her mother talk about the subject of addiction. 

One of the points Aidan brought up was her mother’s own addiction to cigarettes. I acknowledged her example and said cigarettes are highly addictive, although not everyone will become addicted to them. For me, I told her, cigarettes are too expensive, taste bad, and have a nasty smell. I’ll never be addicted to them, I assured her. But I also reminded her that her mother has tried to quit and has had managed to stop smoking for long periods of time in the last several years.

The only other addictive substance we managed to cover in the short drive was pain killers. I explained how certain types of pain killers are more addictive than others. Her first question was, “have you taken those pain killers.” I told her that I had taken pain killers after my car accidents, but assured her that I never became addicted to them. It’s obvious that she’s trying to gather all the facts here and make sense of the world of addiction, as much as it could ever make sense to a young child.

Last night as we looked at the full moon together, she imagined being the first child to “discover the moon.” Today she may be thinking about discovering cures for addiction. I’m sure our brief conversation will be on her mind occasionally throughout the day, although I hope she can set it aside and fully enjoy Field Day. But if the topic comes up again this afternoon, I’ll be equipped with an kid-friendly view of addiction delivered by kids and created by Dr. Robert Lefever, Director of Promis Recovery Centre.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gzkA7ArGkak 

I’m sure one view of this 8-minute video will change the way Aidan thinks about that Black Eyed Peas song. It won’t prevent her from singing it again, but she will be a lot more informed the next time she does. Of course, if she comes home singing Beyonce’s “Best Thing I Never Had”, I may have to discuss a radio ban with her mother.

Long Distance Relationships

She’s only five years old, but my daughter is already in several long distance relationships. They’re not the romantic kind, of course, although her long-time “boyfriend” lives 4 hours away.  The two of them have known each other since they were babies and have a special connection. She even talks about them getting married when they’re grown up. For now, they only see each other on rare occasions, which seems to be typical of most familial relationships in my daughter’s life.

When her mother and I moved from New York to Texas in 2001, we understood the distance between us and family members would make seeing our loved ones on a regular basis more difficult. Four years later, I thought the birth of our baby girl would change that. I assumed we’d have visitors every year. I was wrong.

My mother, older brother and two sisters visited just weeks after my daughter was born. A year later, my older brother returned for another visit, and soon after, he moved in with us. No one else came back to visit us in Texas. Almost six years later, my daughter hasn’t spent a moment in Texas with a single grandparent, aunt or uncle—except for Uncle Will—since she was less than a month old. Even Uncle Will is no longer close by, separated by 4 hours of driving between Houston and the suburbs of Dallas.

When I was growing up, spending time with relatives was a constant. We shared holidays, reunions, Saturday night visits at my grandparents’ house and frequent Sunday visits to the homes of aunts, uncles and cousins. While we were creating wonderful memories together, the relatives who lived in other states were often missing those experiences. Now I’m raising a child who is missing many family experiences as she grows up, and I don’t like it. Some may argue that we choose to live far away and that’s part of the consequences of a long distance relationship. They have a point. But I still don’t like it.

The distance between my daughter and most of her relatives is overcome at times by phone chats with her grandparents and the Christmas gifts that arrive for her every year. But she’s starting to realize what she’s missing, and my response to the situation is changing.

I used to focus more on wanting her to see these people, to interact with them as much as possible. Now I realize that it’s more important to help her cultivate good relationships regardless of whether it’s a person in her daily life or a person she rarely sees. I no longer perceive the long distance relationship people as “absent” from her life. While they’re not present, they’re still a part of who she is, and she deserves to learn about them and love them no matter what. We’ll look at pictures together and I’ll talk about an interesting quality of each person or share a fun story about something that person did or said. She’s naturally inquisitive so she’ll ask a lot of questions, and that helps me understand what interests her most.

Moving closer isn’t an option right now. Neither is traveling to see everyone. But what is within my reach is finding ways to help my daughter feel close to her grandparents, aunt and uncles and create new ways to connect them with regularly. I also want her to realize that while I’m facilitating the development of those relationships, it will eventually be her responsibility to help them grow and flourish in the years to come.

I admit, it’s all a work in progress. But that’s what defines any good relationship, right?