Marjorie R. Barlow, Ph.D.

Most of our friends and family know that Paul and I read a lot of books.  Every day, we begin with our daily apple, green tea or coffee, and a delicious reading from many interesting books.  Yes, we read out loud to each other, and sometimes get caught in long discussions that make for a later breakfast.

I like Duane Elgin’s books.  Two of them are, “Promise Ahead” and “Voluntary Simplicity”.  In the first, he describes our evolutionary growth as a human species.  We are near the end of our adolescence and just might grow up in time to save our planet from an evolutionary crash.  He says we could even have an evolutionary bounce!  I like that and want to do my part in making sure we bounce instead of crash.

In Voluntary Simplicity, I like the questions on consumption:

1. Does what I own or buy induce and promote activity, self reliance and involvement, or does it invite passivity and dependence?

2. Are my consumption patterns providing basic satisfaction–or do I buy much that I don’t really need?

3. How tied are my job, my life, and my life style to installment payments, repairs and maintenance, costs, and the expectations of others?

4. Do I consider the impact of my consumption patterns to other people and the whole earth.

Thinking on these things, I came to a nice conclusion: Our life is active, involved, satisfying, and increasingly responsible in a sustainable way for this earth.  Nice to ponder what more we can do to add to sustainable living.

To dream a dream…..

And, to actually build the ships, hire the crew, and take the voyage…a rare sort of mind like the archetypal Odysseus, our son, Dr. Edward M. Robiinson dreamed a dream he never dared to dream…..from AUSTIN TO ABBEY ROAD.

The beginning was Haloween, 1983, a newly formed rock and roll band, naming themselves “Scurvy Otto and the Ricketts”, played at Young’s Pizza in Kingsville, TX.  Their songs fit the times.  Crowd favorites were, “Bang, Bang, It’s Alright” and “Rita, Rita, Won’t You Come on Home”.

Twenty-five years later, one of those band members dreamed a dream–to get the band together again.  Like Odysseus who took a hero’s journey around the Grecian Seas, Ed created a voyage, first in his imagination and then, in real time with real money.  Ed has a Ph.D. in Computer Science and other degrees in Physics, but his lifelong passion for music is a creative force in his world.

Returning from a successful adventure in the world of high tech, he came back to his roots.  Geographically, that meant returning to Texas and emotionally, it was a return to the world of music and his college days with the Ricketts.  He had another band in those days, which he named, “Special Ed and the School Bored”.  We enjoyed many nights out in Kingsville, listening to his music.

And, so the ship set sail in summer of 2008.  The result is an album called South Texas Stomp.   I admit I am prejudiced, but I really like listening to it.  I’m the Mom, so I confess to being biased.  When I watched this young man re-capture the spirit of that time 25 years ago, placing his venture capital in the support of the adventure, I was touched with the dare of the dream.  He risked an amount that could have been used for an Astin-Martin or top of the line Porsche.  He termed it his “mid-life crisis” but a car would have depreciated and the memories the band created will be forever adding value to the lives of all who were there.

Ed hired his sister, Kaye Barlow, to manage the details.  Another sister, Cynthia Barlow-Thompson, was chronicler and photographer.  Yet another sister, Anna Brown, was hired to be an assistant back at home.  Mike Morgan, Bobby Aycock, Alan Barnette, who were the original Scurvy Otto and Ricketts, were recruited and brought to performance and recording standards at Five AM Studios here in Austin.  Robert Thompson was all around go-for rounding out the crew.

So the trip was made and they created a song to tell the story, “From Austin to Abbey Road,” complete with sound effects of the flight and the streets of London.

Family is a priceless gift.  Paul told me early in our marriage that all we can give our children is memories.  Now the children are returning the favor.  Ed’s creativity was the source of yet another memorable family story.  The band will be in Kingsville on Haloween this year, performing again at Young’s Pizza.  We are going to be there with bells on.

I learned another method for good communication today. Chuck Shamel, a friend of the long road, wrote about RESPECTful Communication Guidelines in his report of a recent Vestry Retreat for All Saints Episcopal Church in Corpus Christi, TX. The retreat was led by another friend, Rev. Faith Baldwin. Faith introduced them to a new meaning for RESPECT as a way of listening and responding to one another.

Here are the guidelines, using the letters of the word, RESPECT:

R -take RESPONSIBILITY for what you say and feel without blaming others.

E-use EMPATHIC listening.

S-be SENSITIVE to differences in communication styles.

P-PONDER what you hear and feel before you speak.

E-EXAMINE your own assumptions and perceptions.

C-keep CONFIDENTIALITY when it is requested; share CONSTRUCTIVELY.

T-TRUST ambiguity because we are NOT here to debate who is right or wrong.

These principles will be great to use in any conversation!!

(Respectful Communication was developed by Eric H. F. Law. You can read more about them in his book, “The Wolf Shall Dwell With the Lamb”.)

I last saw my beloved cousin on July 29, 2007 at her home in Amarillo. We were there for our grandson’s wedding so I was privileged to see her and say goodbye. Wistie died on Haloween. Her funeral at First Baptist Church in Amarillo was a time of great family love and connection. This is the letter I wrote in July before her death in October. Fortunately, she responded to it and we had a loving conversation by telephone. I still miss her and I treasure our time together.

HARVEST OF MEMORIES

To: Wistie from Margie

You were there when I was born in our grandfather’s little white farm house 9 miles south of Ralls, TX. Jimmie and Poppie took care of you in my baby bed, rolling it back and forth, while Josie, Odie, and Dr. Haynie delivered me in the middle bedroom. Mother remembers the squeak of the wheels as you were kept quiet. That was January 23, 1929 and you were five months old.

When we were toddlers, our mothers sewed those little pink dresses, just alike. Then, they would take us to town and Mr. Ralls, with his pince nez monicle eye glass, would greet us with a big laugh. After warm hugs, he gave each of us a nickel to buy an ice cream cone at Spencer’s drug store.

When Don was born, Ernie kept you and me in Ralls while your mother did her mid-wife service. We rolled up in quilts and Ernie would unroll us very fast. He also was dead set on controlling you, which seemed rather hard to do. Auntie often referred to you as her little monkey. You did keep us all laughing.

Do you remember lathering our faces with soap suds and asking the family to identify which one of us was Margie and which one was Wistie? Jimmie, Auntie, Uncle Jim, Odie, Billy, Poppie, and Joe were there, usually at a table with lots of delicious home cooking. The laughter made the food more delicious, I think.

Another time, we turned our dresses backward and walked in backward just for the laugh…..all these clever ideas were always yours, of course.

We got crooked maize stalks from the field, blew them like saxophones and got straight ones to take to the toilet so we could “pee like boys”……

We took the Chinese Checker marbles to the maize patch and just threw them up in the air (or maybe you just said we should do that and I stopped you for fear of Odie’s wrath???)

Another memory: Odie had fashioned a way to take a bath by punching holes in a gallon can and filling it with water. So, you and I were taking a great bath and giggling when Don sneaked up and peeked through the outdoor shower curtains at us. He was “talked to” by Odie. He begged him to “just whip me—don’t talk to me”. The shame ran deep that day.

Your family was always a bright shining star to me. Your mother loved me and warmly welcomed me; Uncle Jim was my ideal of a man; and you, Ernie (“Boy”) and Louise (“Sister”) were like jewels to me. When we saw you coming, happiness came over the whole family like a blessed curtain of love.
I still love Ruidoso because you, Auntie, and Uncle Jim took me on a wonderful weeklong vacation to a log cabin there. We caught fireflies and kept them in a fruit jar.

I remember that I was taken to visit you in Lubbock for a few days (unexpectedly) and it just happened that you were going on your very first date. Auntie said, “Margie Ruth will just go with you!” And you and the boy you were dating hustled up someone for me to be with. Oh, my goodness, can you ever forgive me?

There was the time in Waco, when I was president of the BSU in Kingsville and on the state BSU council. You were there from Hardin Simmons and you yelled my name when our bus arrived. You grabbed me up and whirled me around in the absolute best greeting I ever received. It made the trip for me. Didn’t hurt my reputation with the Kingsville group either!

You and Louise were so helpful in the James Robinson-Margie McNeely wedding on May 25, 1947 in Weslaco at the First Baptist Church. You were my maid of honor. I chose Sunday morning because I remembered that Louise and S.S. had married on a Sunday morning in Lubbock FBC. I was always looking to your family for the right path. I chose to be a business major because Uncle Jim was the building inspector in Lubbock and I thought I might be a secretary in an office like his. Notice, I was limited to the women roles. I could be a secretary, a teacher, or a nurse. But that is another story, isn’t it?

Then you and Bill married, but I was so pregnant with my firstborn child that I couldn’t go to your wedding. I couldn’t believe that you had married someone from Ralls. Bill’s sister Rosemary was so beautiful. My brother, Don, competed for her in first grade with his best friend, Bobby Anthony. And, there many years later was my favorite cousin marrying Rosemary’s brother Bill!! Such a joy that was for our family.

Even though I missed your lovely wedding, Bill ended up working—“Roost-a-bootin” he called it—in Premont, Texas just a few miles away from where James and I lived. You were there the day our pre-mature baby died, offering love and caring. Once again you led the way, suggesting that we could visit each other on Fridays, we had those wonderful Friday nights in Premont and Kingsville when we lived close enough to see each other more often. I will not ever forget seeing Vicki on the day of her birth there in that little tiny hospital. The nurses played with Kathy while I visited you and Vicki.

Images from your time in Premont: You had the cleanest house—Tide and Clorox kept the kitchen linoleum spotless—and great food. I remember a truly splendid white cake you had prepared when you were about 8 months pregnant before Vicki was born. You served it to James and Kathy and me on one of those nice Friday night visits.

So, we both became wives. Then you had all those children and I had all those children. What wonderful years and how blessed we have been. I will never forget the night I called to ask you to feed a crowd as we returned from Colorado…only to get to your door and be astonished that you were yet again pregnant! I apologize to you and Bill for eating all your bacon and eggs that night, but I will never ever forget the love and laughter that we enjoyed. Must have been around 1963???

You and your family have always meant light and love and joy and happiness. Your warm heart has blessed thousands of people and I am one of those grateful ones.

I suppose at this age, it is OK to look back, so I seem to be in a life review of some 78-79 years, a miraculous and wondrous time here on this planet. I am aware that I was most fortunate to have your soul enter this world just 5 months ahead of me on August 22, 1928. I want you to know that you have always been a guiding light to me. You are a genius, with unique talents, creative vision, and a heart of purest gold.

I love you, Willa Jeanne Reid–Wistie McKee

There were moments in my childhood that have lasting images burned on the mind of my soul. Many of these moments are remnants of memories from the family meetings we had—reunions they were called. The reunions were held at Christmas time in the homes of each of the six children and the grandparents’ family home in Canyon. I never knew how they decided who would be the host family but somehow the process seemed to keep us coming together. (more…)