Showing posts with label Bubbles. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Bubbles. Show all posts

Sunday, September 7, 2014

Collections

When I was younger, I collected lots of wonderful treasures, including dolls and picture books. My father started me with my first collection: stamps.  I never was particularly interested in that hobby, but I was very interested in being the center of my daddy’s attention, so I took the stamps he brought me and dutifully placed them into the binders. Lord only knows where those collections are now…

When I was a little older, I became a tomboy, which was only natural since I was the middle child born between two boys. I collected scrapes and bruises from following them over fences and through blackberry bushes or by following the culverts and tunnels that guided the Town Creek from Sam Houston's home and museum and our house. I also collected a toughness that comes from playing firecracker shootouts and having an occasional firework explode in my hand rather than in the air flying toward a brother’s head.

As I entered my teens, I collected lots of personas along with fitting names, trying to find the right fit for the individual I would become. My cousin and I gave each other sassy names to fit the images we had of becoming saucy women someday. I was Kitten; she, Bubbles. My older brother Stone’s friends named my younger brother Pebble and named me Rox.  We felt very cool among our friends who had no siblings and were faceless to the older crowd.  My friends had fun giving me derivatives of my given name Joyce: I was called Jerse, Joycie, Juice, and Jice. Because I was named after my mother, my daddy kept trying to get me to adopt the name Junior, but I was  past my tomboy days and had no desire to be known as Junior.

I collected my first boyfriend at sixteen, and my favorite name, Baby, came out of his mouth in that easy Southern drawl of his, pronounced, “Baay-be.”  Occasionally I was known by another “b” name for my cattiness, especially when it came to trashing some other girl’s reputation because she didn’t fit the standard I had set for teens outside my clique. Shame on me.

During my young adult years, I collected college degrees and years of experience in classrooms as both a student and as a teacher. I found that the best way to become an expert in anything was to teach the subject. As a result, I became an expert in college marketing and collected a slew of awards and plaques from state and national organizations while I climbed the ladder in administration and made a reputation for myself. For about a decade, I was one of go-to women in the Texas community college movement. I also collected two sets of divorce papers.

At mid-life I collected illnesses and maladies: fibroid tumors, ulcerative colitis, psoriasis, diabetes… but thankfully, I also had a collection of friends who would not let me give up, lie down, or step off the path but, rather, to move on to the next collection, which is the greatest one of all—the collection of memories.

I may be battered, but I’m far from through!

Sunday, August 24, 2014

The Amazng File

Years ago (as in thirty years ago),  my friend Jackie Crowley gave a seminar for her colleagues at Houston Community College. TAF stood for The Amazing File, and the idea was for us to create a file and fill it with photos, letters of accolades, awards, and other things that documented how uniquely wonderful we were.

Jackie gave each of us a red file folder labelled "TAF 101."  ("So you can find it quickly among all those manila folders in your filing cabinet," she explained.) She had her own file to show us--although it was an expandable file because she'd had it awhile and needed more space for her documents.

I came across my file recently. Here's what is in it:
  • a photo that Jackie took of me in a hotel room reading the New York Times, documenting the time she and I had been sent by the college president to a national marketing seminar that ultimately led to my doctoral dissertation;
  • a letter from my son expressing his love and belief in me;
  • a thank you card from a colleague for helping her get funding for a project;
  • an honorable mention from Southwest Writers Conference for the opening chapter of a novel;
  • birthday cards from friends and family with personal notes written inside telling me what a fun and caring person I am;
  • a letter from the United Way thanking me for chairing the campaign for the college district;
  • a transcript from Texas A&M University showing heaps of A's earned in grad school;
  • pictures of Christmas parties I hosted over the years for friends who couldn't go home for the holidays;
  • certificates of appreciation for service work on various community and  college committees;
  •  pictures of Ireland from my first trip across the Atlantic that I took with my cousin "Bubbles";
  • a letter from my dad conveying his delight and pride in being my father; and
  • my beloved Trixie Ann's dog tags.
Going through the file always gives me such a warm feeling because I can see clearly that my life matters, not because of the job I have or my job title, but because of who I am as a person.

It's good to have a file where I can go and be reminded of my value because, unfortunately, there are days when I am so depressed and discouraged that I need to see concrete evidence that tells me I'm not a failure.

If you don't have a file on yourself, I highly recommend that you begin building one.