Sunday, June 19, 2011

Thankful


Dad in Hawaii in 2006

Today, I'm focusing on the things in my life that I am thankful for. And with it being Father's Day, I cannot help but feel immense gratitude for having Jim Castle as my father. He just turned 66 years old a few days ago, and with me soon turning 30 and understanding how quickly these years seem to pass us by, life becomes more and more precious to me, and my love for my family grows deeper. Maturity as the years goes on finds us in a different place, wishing we hadn't spent so many years not truly appreciating the things that we hold most important.

My dad is a jovial man. Dark italian skin, weathered by years of hunting and fishing, a thick head of greyish hair that at one time was jet black, cheeks that get flush when he laughs or drinks beer, both which occur quite often.

He's not only a great father, but a fantastic, loving papa

He tells the best jokes. I have a rolodex of 'jokes by dad' in my memory- but what I love most about his joke telling is not the joke itself. It's how he manages to laugh about the joke for the following 10 minutes, chuckling under his breath, sometimes until little tears fill his eyes. How something can be so funny, I am not sure- but that is so endearing to me of my father.

Every year since grandkids, dad has dressed up as Santa as our grandpa used to do. The Santa accent and the floppy Santa hands are the best. You just have to see it :)

I was always a daddy's girl. I'd follow him around our pecan tree-filled 3 acres, picking up sticks and helping him do yard work. We would go to Houston Astros games as a family growing up and he'd sneak in freezer-size bags of peanuts into mom's purse because he didn't want to pay the exorbitantly high price at the Astrodome. Sorry for giving away your secrets on the internet, dad, but you passed it on. I also sneak my candy into the movies. Like father, like daughter.
At the hunting lease on dad's hunting jeep back when Jaime and I were kids

Mom & Dad in Hawaii in 2006- yes, he is wearing my ROXY hat. Hilarious.

I remember glowing when I saw you come to my freshman year volleyball game. You walked with me on the football field when I was homecoming duchess in my cheerleading uniform. You did what dads are supposed to do: you loved your girls. You took care of us. You still wash my car when I go home and make sure it has gas in it. Those little labors of love that have shown me over the years just how much you care. Dad, I love you and am thankful for you. I hope that my kids have a father one day who love them as you have loved us.

Dad and me in the summer of 2005 when I got my Arbonne, white Mercedes Benz. He was there with my to help with all of the paperwork. He was so proud of me.

Happy Fathers Day, everyone. I hope you can also spend some time thinking about your dad, grandfather or a man in your life who has acted as a father to you and how grateful you are for them.

Thursday, June 16, 2011

A Little London in Your Life Would Do Some Good

I just returned from a 4 day mini trip to London, a city that delighted me with its cleanliness, its history and its people with flushed cheeks and jovial grins. Not to mention, that notable and gorgeous English accent. I hadn't been to London in nearly 10 years, since my European backpacking trip through college when I was entering my Senior year in college. Goodness. I was only 20 years old then. Needless to say, life has changed dramatically and it is interesting to re-visit a place that is relatively the same when your life has done so much changing, and in such a short amount of time.


When I first went to London, it was my first European experience, my first taste of International travel and really my first taste of freedom. That 2 and 1/2 month trip through 9 different European countries was what birthed my love for travel and intensified my desire to explore every inch of life that this life has to offer. I remember arriving in London after being in non-English speaking countries for 6 weeks. I felt so relieved to be in a place that had somewhat of a resemblance of home, simply because I could understand people without needing a translation. My brain could take a rest from interpreting signs and asking questions beginning with, "Ou est...??" (meaning 'where is,' for you non-French speaking readers).


Back in 2002, I felt young and free and alive. Now it is 2011, and I still feel all of those things; I just feel a bit wiser and more seasoned with life, which is a good thing. That is a natural progression in the order of how life works, at least one might hope. It was London where I specifically recall having my first wine cooler with my best friend. Yes, I was 20 years old, which is an age where most kids have had at least 4 years of keg stands under their belts. I, however, grew up in the conservative south and I was both sheltered and naive. My friend and I got them and I remember feeling a mixture of cool and adventurous- when in fact, drinking a wine cooler doesn't lend to either of those images. We walked out of the convenient store and realized that these were not twist off caps and we had no bottle opener. A homeless man saw our confused struggle and came to our relief, taking the wine coolers and popping the tops off by using the door handle of the stoop that he had made his home. With a toothless grin, it was almost as if he was welcoming us into the world of debauchery and into his own private social club of alcoholic bliss. We tipped him a few pence and went on our way, coolers in hand.

Needless to say, almost 10 years later, this trip was a very different experience. I noticed and appreciated things about the city of London than I did back then, as I have seen much more of the world and have more travel experience under my belt. I noticed the beautiful architecture of the city and its layout and how tidy their tube system is compared to our New York subway system. In fact, I cannot imagine what the English think of Americans when they come to New York and enter our subways stained with graffiti and lord knows what, reeking of trash and many times of urine. It probably confirms their pre-conceived ideas of us, actually. I noticed how 75% of the people that I saw running along the Thames were wearing backpacks. And not just small camelbacks for water, but large backpacks, like they were training for an event. It was definitely a cultural difference. And, I noticed how even in the summertime, most women wear pantyhose under their skirts and shorts, even if dressed casually. It must be something about being English and being ranked substantially higher on the 'proper' scale than we are over here.


All of that said, in my reflection I am supposing that is how life works. Our perspectives change. It's not just a place that changes around us, but we are the ones who are evolving more rapidly to give that place its different meaning and feeling. Our first 20 years are mainly spent just learning by taking things in our environment in. In those years most of us don't have enough life experiences to really compare them to others. We're building our database of experience so that in our 20's, we start to really learn from mistakes and from the foundation of life's lessons that have been building and being stored in our minds and hearts for their proper time when they will come and teach us what they will.

As I am soon approaching my 30th year, I look at my life and see it as a collection of those lessons. In my early years and up until my early 20's, I was young and naive in many ways, and those years were spent gathering the information that I needed to form into the person who I am today. In my 20's, I have explored many aspects of my life and myself and made some mistakes along the way, all of which I am grateful for, as I have learned from them and been changed by them, to form the woman that I am today upon the strong foundation of my past. And yet I am still growing, and in to my 30's I will soon enter with the knowledge that I have gained through these prior years, more confident in who I am, more loving, more gracious and compassionate, more bold but also more tender.



From my last trip to London to this past one, I love what has transpired in my life and who I have become over the past 9 years. Sometimes it's not until we are in a place like that, a place we have not visited in quite some time, that we remember how far we have come in life's journey. I think ahead to 10 years from now, that perhaps I will see London before that time or possibly never again... but if I do have the privilege to visit again in a decade, Big Ben will still ring loudly, the changing of the guards will still be changing, and English bread pudding will still be as heavenly as it is today. Yet I will be different, hopefully more lovely with time, with more experience, with more of life's lessons. I hope that no matter where your journey takes you, it will be the same for you.