&nbs
Many, many years ago I decided to travel to America. It was to be a short visit; a fortnight at the most. Australia had always been at the top of my list of places to visit but opportunity landed me at DFW airport toting one tiny suitcase and a snazzy duffel. A handsome Texan, complete with Hawaiian shirt, had fallen in love with me at Victoria station in London and sent me an invitation with a plane ticket, to visit his home in Dallas while he was between rock and roll tours. Nothing ventured nothing gained I thought as I made my way through customs and into his waiting arms. Twenty-five years later I find myself still here, Australia is as yet unvisited and my parents have given up asking me what they're supposed to tell the neighbours.
My husband, the handsome Texan with blue eyes, who loved me at first sight, and then comforted, honoured and kept me in sickness and in health, forsaking all others, remains a faithful and perfect Southern gentleman. We have four grown children aged 24-18 who were my guinea pigs when I accidentally stumbled into the world of homeschooling. They willingly acquiesced for the fifteen-year lifespan of Wild Flower Academy, the fancy name I affixed to my one roomed schoolhouse. They have all graduated from home school, two have also graduated from college and two are currently enrolled in college. Yes, we did have four at college for a brief period but like having four teenagers under one roof, we survived to tell the tale
I encouraged my oldest son to follow his dream of joining a team of astronauts on the Space Station. Then the gift of a video camera on his 11th birthday resulted in him graduating Cum Laude at the age of twenty, from The College of Santa Fe with a degree in film.
I became the mother of the year for allowing: snakes to co-habit with us and shed their skins in my bath-tub; raccoons to learn how to swim in our pool; baby squirrels to be bottle fed every three hours and abandoned opossums to cling upside down from my hands by their tails. My outdoorsman youngest son went on to become an Aggie and earned a Wildlife and Fisheries degree when he was barely 21. At his graduation I discovered that his passion had switched from animals to rock climbing, and he learned that I had single handedly disposed of his snakes by airing them outside one afternoon under the brutal Texas sun.
With children under my feet every waking hour I insisted that they pursue one common activity at a time, and that it be under a roof. The first one was gymnastics. With this intense sport I developed a resistance to crowded, chalk filled gyms, hard bleacher seats and the sme ll of sweaty gear. These skills stood me in good stead for the next activity, ballet. I soon discovered that a dancer's bag seriously challenges any other sports bag when it comes to odiferous stenches! As the children grew we transitioned to our final common activity, theatre. We still volunteer, perform and work at the local community theatres in Garland. Directors and producers quip that all it takes is one phone call to the McNeny household to staff their show.
Before my quick trip to America I lived in many different countries. I began life in Hostert, West Germany and then traveled with my parents as they diplomatically made their way throughout the Middle East. When I graduated from London University I moved from the hustle and bustle of England's capital to a small island off the coast of France. Here I learned that the Guernsey patois had no words to adequately express the urgency of putting off doing something until the morrow.
My next move was to Southern Andalusia where all time as I knew it ground to a halt. This complete abandonment of the clock could only compete with God. Lunches stretched for hours, siestas were mandatory until 5pm, dinner was taken, with children, at 10pm or 11pm and in August the whole country closed so that everyone could go on holiday.
After a couple of years of Mediterranean living my biological clock began ticking and I was ready to pack up my tiny suitcase and snazzy duffel to head across the pond, which is where my story began. p;
When I'm not rushing around with my adoptive fellow countrymen, I enjoy reading and thinking. My children threaten to take my books away from me if I don't call them on my way home. They threaten to make me watch television for several hours if I talk back and they have threatened to make me keep my cell phone on all day if they catch me sitting in my room alone again.
When I'm not reading or thinking I capture my ideas on paper, screen really, and contribute regularly to my writing group who listen patiently to my stories and give me encouragement whether I deserve it or not. My husband, the gorgeous Texan mentioned above, and I share dinner dates at home each weekend, we reckon that our food is infinitely better than anything a local restaurant can set before us. We have the added fun of imbibing while we cook, chopping veggies side by side, creating sauces and indulging in witty, or so we think, conversation. We plan to open up a restaurant in Costa Rica, a place we have only visited on line. It looks beautiful and sounds like a mix of all the countries I've visited in my young life. Be bold and the Almighty will send in the troops to help you. Hey, I look at it this way, I'm more than half way to heaven, what do I have to lose?