|As I Was Saying
By Opal Toney
I’ve often told you I never throw anything away, if I think it’s worth
And, when rodeo time comes every year, it brings back a lot of memories.
And, this week, I pulled out of my “memory box” the June 9, 1966 story of
the annual Western Week published in the Mabank Banner.
The headline reads, “Mabank Celebrating Annual Western Week.” Here is what
the story has to say about the highly anticipated event...
Mabank is cleaned up and decorated in preparation for Western Week and
the Annual Mabank Riding and Roping Club Rodeo to be held June 9, 10, and
The gala week began Tuesday night with street jamboree.
Wednesday night the Queen’s Dinner was held at the Andrew Gibbs home with
the Riding Club acting as host, the Rodeo Queen was to be chosen by drawing
a name from among the following candidates. They are Mary Ola Richman, Patty
Hyde, Andrea Gibbs, Donna Gibbs and Mary Ann Hyde.
The parade will be held this afternoon at 5 p.m. Rodeo performances will
begin at 8 p.m. each night of the Rodeo and will feature bareback bronc
riding, saddle bronc riding, steer dogging, bull riding, bulldogging, calf
roping and other attractions. The stock for the Rodeo is furnished by Roland
Reid of Fort Worth.
Admission to the Rodeo is adults $1.00 and children 50 cents.
And maybe next week I’ll tell you about how my sister Louise and I tried
havin’ our own rodeo.
As I was saying, this is not my first rodeo.
View From Here
By Katherine Veno
I was never as intelligent as I was at the age of 17. I certainly knew it
all. As I matured and hit my 20s, I found out pretty quick I really did not
know much of anything about most everything.
In my 20s, I was a focused go-getter. Capable of taking on challenges with a
cool, calm demeanor, I could conquer the world. Studies have shown that when
we are in our 20s, our brains impulse-control center is maturing at
breakneck speed. Better yet, conscientiousness, which is the predictor of
success, is the fastest growing trait. In our 20s we are building dreams to
complete in our 30s, 40s and beyond.
I hated turning 30. It was my most difficult of the decade birthdays. But on
the upside, I was more confident, and my personality was evolving along with
my language and social skills. I put down roots, made new friends and became
a little more confident and outgoing.
The 40s were a time I flourished. I felt better and I thought I looked my
best. It seemed I was a more well-rounded thinker and I was not as
extroverted or gregarious. I had normally contradictory traits. I had
introversion and extroversion sharing center stage. I was no longer
extra-social and coexisted with new-found reflective wisdom. I took on new
hobbies and tackled anything life threw in my way without a second thought.
My 50s found me looking into new opportunities, indulging my interests and
expanding my world. I found a sense of control and I was determined to take
on new challenges to ensure my second act would be even better than the
first. My 50s were my most empowered time. It was time to look to a new me.
Now I am in my 60s. I find all sorts of new ways to be creative. I can see
solutions where my younger friends can see none. It is all coming more
easily now. I feel smart, confident and socially savvy. I am bold in my
dress, and can go to the store with no makeup. No problem. I have the gift
of time in a day and whether it is a smile, a helping hand or a good meal, I
am ready. I can be a sounding board or give a piece of advice or a pep talk.
I can just have some fun. I can take a happy break.
Now I can clearly see there is plenty of joy to go around, but we must not
be afraid to claim it. I know I can touch more lives than I thought before,
and I believe that hope works.
|Escapades of Emily
By Emily Gail Lundy
For many reasons I have lost interest in pro sports for some time,
concentrating on local and colleges, where I know the players.
Then last year the Rangers took over my interest, and I saw the art involved
in baseball. This year my family talked so much about the Mavericks with
such enthusiasm, I began paying attention, asking questions. Some in the
family attend home games, from different communities, and have spoken via
cell phone in the same gym.
I wished I could have been outside the home center in the patio area just
one night, but some of us have silly superstitions about making the team
When the Mavericks made it to the playoff rounds, my husband and I could not
watch a televised game in its entirety. We kept two programs running, on one
or both television sets and went back and forth and then made ourselves
watch the final minute.
Even at close high school games, my husband has to leave the gym and walk
around to ease the tension. I can hide my eyes and go by the sounds of the
crowd. The Mavericks would get 14 points behind, and we needed to check on
the weather. It was a crazy time no one but us could understand.
With the big win and all the other hoop-la, I was a follower.
Thus, last week’s parade for the championship Mavericks took my breath away,
hit me with nostalgia I haven’t experienced with sports at its highest level
in sometime. Interspersed with interruptions, I watched the parade from the
beginning through the impromptu pep rally following.
One word struck me about the entire event – class. If there is one thing my
world could use more of it’s class.
This word or act or event does not equate with money or success. On the day
of the parade, of course it did, and that made the “word” more special.
I was not aware of vulgar, shocking display of clothing or non-clothing,
gyrating cheerleaders in actions that have made it down through public
schools and has little to do with cheerleading, arrogance, three and
four-letter inappropriate words. Something about the entire affair was
old-fashioned, maybe a trip back through time for an elderly watcher to
Classy people can have any amount of money. Classy people act appropriately
wherever they are seen, usually with the mouth shut.
Classy people don’t have to sprinkle curse words into their conversation to
make a point.
Classy people don’t dress in public to shock, show too much skin, or stress
a “don’t care about you or anyone else” attitude. Classy and successful
people are not synonymous.
Think of a recent television show or movie that was funny and then picture
it without 30 or more of the four-letter words, the most popular the old one
from centuries and centuries ago that relates to fornication. I know you
would still be laughing throughout the movie.
Humor and cursing are not synonymous either.
Someone wrote a long time ago the meaning of success: old dogs and little
children like you. You have planted a garden. You have a left a child who
will make the world a little bit better or you, yourself, have improved
something, no matter how small. If class involved any part of this, consider
yourself a success or one in the making.