One Pharmacist's View

What age were you when you considered yourself “grown?” I was 16 and just got my driver’s license. I had, sometime back, fallen in love with cars. Especially those with a lot of horsepower under the hood. Dad had one of these “things.” But dad had little confidence in my ability to use one safely.

It was a nice day, that Sunday on December 7 , 80 years ago in Washington, D.C. The warmer than normal weather had caused New England’s famed pussy-willows to bud. The busy DC football stadium was hosting the Washington Redskins and Philadelphia’s Eagles. Strange times.

Thanksgivings are such a special time of the year. For most of us. For me it getting to see my loved ones. Sharing a big Thanksgiving meal and being thankful for one another. This year we planned a biggie. All four of my kids and most of their kids were to show up. All brought food. Lots of it.

Preparing is important. I had been told to prepare for the future. Other than preparing for my everlasting soul I thought of other things too. I had consulted a financial advisor several years back and he devised a savings plan and all. Other plans?

Thanksgiving? Here again? It’s almost stylish these days to say: “Thankful for what?” Well, let’s just look back a bit. One in particular noteworthy year in my life was 1963. Fresh out of college and my military service behind me, things never looked any better.

I was surprised to see that one of my favorite quarterbacks has come down with Covid. I was pretty sure (to myself) last week that I wasn’t going to say anymore about this world-wide pandemic and the number of people who won’t take the shots or wear the masks.

I had a lot of company last weekend. A lot of family from across the plain gathered at my house to celebrate the life of my late sister-inlaw, Freda Harry. Freda passed away recently in a Dallas Care Center and remains will be interred in Allen Cemetery at a later date.

My mother sometimes got onto me for daydreaming so much. I had a teacher or two over at Stonewall that agreed with her too. She always admonished me to quit my daydreaming. As though one could. Like most people I think I was meant to travel. Go places. Someplace where they speak different languages.

Sometimes this old Shakespearean quote applies to us. It sure did to people in Allen in 1938—a tough year for people here in Mustang land. I know it was for the Bullard’s. The business dad worked at in Allen was shuttered and gone. Whipped away by the dusty winds of the Great Depression.

Texas has a lot going for it. One of the things -- there is a lot of wealth and pride residing south of the Red River and the growth of North Texas continues unchecked. I remember back in the 1950s when I lived in a Dallas suburb and worked for a company called Chance Vaught, building jet airplanes.