A heartfelt message

     Like to wear the shirt with this message  because every time I do, people comment on it.

     Special reason for posting it with this blog because ... today marks an anniversary.

     Five years ago today doctors saved my life. It was the day of the triple bypass for my heart.

     Hello, glad to be here.

     I feel fine, although, well, five years older. Still exercising, but not quite as much as before the 2019-20 discomfort down my left arm told me that -- maybe -- something wasn't right.

     But no issues now, other than sore knees and sore feet from my walks and exercise classes. Yes, still walking 2-3 times a week (and for those of you who know, still picking up loose coins and sometimes even paper money).

     I weigh more than I need to because the ice cream, cookies and cake I so like much take up residence around my (expanded) waist.

     Don't like thinking about it, or looking at it. But it doesn't keep me from activities ... or eating. 

      Life's good, although it has its issues. Staying busy here at Trinity Terrace, our seniors residency in Fort Worth, but did give up "recruiting" for The Country Store volunteers and stocking between store shifts. Six years was enough of that.

     Still organizing our weekly Thursday afternoon Social Hour, lining up program guests -- speakers or music or special events -- and, without panicking, trying to find replacements for the occasional late postponements.

      That's fun.

      Trying to spend more time with my best friend and roommate of 48 years, the beautiful and intelligent Beatrice. She is facing some challenges. Please excuse that I don't want to go into much detail.

      So appreciative and proud of our family -- the kids (Jason and Rachel, and son-in-law Russell) and our  spectacular and interesting grandkids -- Josie, 17; Jacob, 16; Kaden, 14; Eli, 10. My gosh, they are growing up.

     Plus, the extended Van Thyn/Wellen and Shaw-related families. 

      And we've gotten so much love and support from the friends from far back -- Shreveport-Bossier/North Louisiana/Louisiana, in general, all the way to Israel, Belgium and, of course, the Netherlands, where it all began for me.

     Also, the friends we've made over the years in athletics and newspapers, and since our move to Fort Worth in late 2001 and especially Trinity Terrace in June 2018.

      Maybe it's corny to say, but my heart is full. And it works.

       It is difficult to learn of the deaths of so many friends these days, especially those from way back in Shreveport-Bossier and the more recent ones here at Trinity Terrace.  

       Back to May 2020, when the pandemic kept me from having any visitors during the eight-day hospital stay. Let's say that the first month after the surgery -- before starting rehab -- was as painful and difficult as I have ever faced physically.

      After a couple of weeks, when every move hurt, Bea and I went for a walk in a nearby parking lot. It was slanted, and going downhill was slow but no problem. A couple of steps uphill, and nope, time to go home.

      Soon, I was stronger and the six weeks of rehab actually was kind of good. Still, I would prefer not to have to do it again.

      Kept my little blue pillow, which pressed against my heart area, eased the pain for the first month after surgery. It's right here next to my desk. Just a reminder.

      An older man here, learning of my triple bypass, told me then that he had his triple 15 years earlier. So it's now 20 years for him ... and he just turned 100. So there.

      No guarantees, of course, but 100 looks a long way off. I'll take 78 in a less than a month.

      And if I'm lucky, I will write about the 10-year anniversary five years from now. Stay tuned.  

---

     From five years ago -- the triple bypass adventure:

https://nvanthyn.blogspot.com/2020/05/its-heart-that-counts-most.html

     

Mom, Dad making an appearance in Iowa

      Mom's influence, her dedication to educating the world about the Holocaust, is still being felt ... in Iowa.
      Yes, Iowa. You read that correctly. Danville, Iowa, to be exact, a small farming community in the southeast part of the state.

Our young Rose

      Good timing, too. The day after this year's International Holocaust Remembrance Day, we received a note -- through a longtime friend -- from a man in Iowa asking for permission to use photos of Mom (and Dad) and one of her poems in a Holocaust-related museum.
      The Danville Station, a library-museum featuring the "Anne Frank Pen Pal Letters." It is a non-for-profit cultural institution.
      Intriguing? Indeed.
      Mom, who for 25 years talked and wrote so often about the Holocaust, has been gone 14 1/2 years (Dad for 16 1/2). But they would be so proud of an exhibit being put together in that museum to  honor them.
      We -- their family -- are pleased, and happy to help.
      In a world where Holocaust education seems to be dwindling as much as the actual survivors of that horror, this is a small bit of encouragement. 
      So were the responses we received this week about our (annual) post/e-mail on Holocaust Remembrance Day. We will never forget, or -- as one friend pointed out -- forgive.
    (And we don't approve of  Elon Musk's clownish "salute," or whatever he did, and certainly not of his coddling of Germany's far-right -- yeah, Nazi-leaning -- political party. He's not stupid, but that was. C'mon, he knows what a Nazi salute looks like. So why even go there?) 
---

    Back to the story, the Anne Frank-Rose Van Thyn connection of sorts.
     The origin of this tale is a note from Dr.  Stephen J. Gaies, who was director of the Center for Holocaust and Genocide Education and a professor emeritus in the department of languages and literatures at the University of Northern Iowa. He is now a consultant to the Danville museum, which opened in 2018.  

    He was writing our old friend Thomas Aswell (from Ruston, Louisiana Tech and now living in the Baton Rouge area where he is a longtime political journalist, and a good one.)
    Dr. Gaies: "I am writing about gaining permission to use a photograph that appeared in an article you published in Louisiana Voice on November 1, 2016 ..." (about the book Survivors: 62511, 70726, our family's story and that of my parents' Holocaust concentration camp experiences.)   
    He explained that he was helping design the museum's permanent exhibit and "featuring one of Rose Van Thyn's poems ('Where To') in a new part of the museum." They also want to include some images as part of the description of her life.

    While Dr. Gaies was our contact, he stresses that Janet Hesler is "the founder, director and 'soul' of the museum and this exhibit."
    Certainly, we granted permission. And we did send a good number of photos and blog pieces to hopefully enhance the exhibit.
---
     Now, to tell how Anne Frank (and her sister) figure into this story. 
     "It's an honor to tell your mother's (and father's) story to visitors [at the museum]," Dr. Gaies wrote. "Let me tell you ... how we plan to incorporate a sample of your mother's poetry and information about her life and accomplishments into the new exhibit area.
   Mrs. Hesler: "The Anne Frank letters began in 1939 when our teacher at Danville, Miss Birdie Mathews, started an international correspondence exchange program for her students.

        "The students drew names and Juanita Wagner drew the name of Anne Frank. The Wagner sisters (Betty and Juanita) wrote a letter to Anne and on April 29, 1940, two letters and a postcard arrived in the mail from Anne and her sister Margot.

    "Eleven days later the Nazis invaded Holland, so this is the only correspondence that we have."

      "The original letters are in the Simon Wiesenthal Center in Los Angeles and we have the only copies of them in the world."

      Dr. Gaies: "It wasn't until a few decades after the war, when Anne Frank started to become a central figure in America's representation of the Holocaust, that the significance of this letter was recognized. A small local museum was created in Danville to preserve this small bit of history." 

---

     Also at the museum is an  authenic pre-WW II cattle-car train, the kind  used to transport so many people -- mostly Jews -- to the concentration camps (Mom included, her ride to Auschwitz.)

     Dr. Gaies: "Years of efforts to obtain a WW II-era railcar similar to those used for deportations from Westerbork (the transit camp in eastern Netherlands) finally bore fruit, and a railcar was located and restored in Germany and shipped to Danville, arriving in 2023. 
     "An enclosure has been built to protect the railcar from Iowa's harsh weather. One wall of the enclosure is clear; the other three inside walls of the enclosure are new exhibit space. A museum design firm has been contracted to transform our ideas for the exhibit."

     Key to the purchase of the rail car, Mrs. Hesler pointed out, was the Iowa Economic  Development Authority. 

     "Through the grant 'Destination Iowa,' she wrote, "we have received $745,000 to obtain, refurbish, and ship the railcar" and also "construct the building with three wall exhibits that tell the story of the Westerbork camp and well as the rescuers that risked so much for others."

--- 

     Dr. Gaies: "Your mother's poem and a photo of her will appear together with an excerpt from a letter by and an image of Etty Hillesum, in a section entitled, 'Writing About Deportation.' ...

     "We are including a QR code that will link visitors to a webpage containing supplementary information about your mother's life. The information will include a prose summary, a timeline and a list of selected references, together with additional images, we hope. 

     "Etty Hillesum will have a different QR code and supplementary information webpage, as will two Dutch rescuers we are featuring in another section of the exhibit.
     "Even though the museum is off the beaten track, it already gets thousands of visitors each year, and there is every expectation that with the new exhibit and increasing publicity abut the railcar, attendance (including school visits) will continue to increase.
     "So I feel that this is a wonderful new opportunity to share your mother's -- indeed, your family's -- story with a world that can only benefit from learning about your parents' courage and resilience."
     We agree, and we are grateful. We will not forget.

Becoming a citizen: "I love it so much"

     For Gillian Boonzaier -- usually the first person people meet when they enter our residency (Trinity Terrace in Fort Worth) -- the American dream came true. 
      She now is an American citizen.
      On Wednesday morning, September 25, Gillian took the oath of U.S. citizenship -- some 20 years after moving with her family from South Africa to this country.
     She was one of 531 immigrants who took the oath at the Plano Events Center. It was one of three ceremonies that day, with another 1,000 or so also celebrating the achievement.

      Gillian's two daughters and one of her two grandsons witnessed a moving moment in her life. (She also has a son, and another grandson is due in December.)

      "It was so well-organized," Gillian said of the ceremony. "I knew it would be emotional, but it was more emotional than I thought it would be.

     "I cried."

     Because of the large crowd, the citizens-to-be were asked to be present by 8 a.m. -- so the trip from Fort Worth to Plano meant a very early departure -- and there was a wait of more than an hour before the ceremony began.

     There was a brief video about Ellis Island, where for more than 50 years through 1954 millions of immigrants were processed upon entering the U.S. An appeal to become voters and an explanation of the oath of citizenship followed.

     Then came a roll call of the 51 countries represented -- it was 71 countries in the afternoon -- with the applicants rising to stand in preparation for the oath.

      "So many countries," Gillian said, noting that India and Japan had the largest delegation and were met with loud cheers. When South Africa was called, "my three family members applauded (softly).

      One country was Estonia. "I didn't know that it was a real country," Gillian said, smiling. "I thought it was a make-believe land from The Princess Bride."

Gillian with daughters Katrina (left)
 and Lauren (right) and grandson Grayson

     She had been working in the U.S. on
a green card, but it was due to be renewed in 2025, and because the cost was the same as becoming a citizen, she felt it was time to make the move that her younger daughter Katrina previously had made.

      Gillian submitted her citizenship
papers in March, took the required test in July, and passed easily. (She had studied her 100 flashcards diligently and never missed an answer on "pop" tests in the front lobby.

      The Boonzaier family left South Africa in 2004 when job opportunities became scarce as the end of apartheid changed society there. Gillian had accompanied her then-husband on his business trips to the U.S., so moving here appealed to her because "it's the land of milk and honey."

      The family's three school-age kids settled in the Miami area, where jobs in the airline and travel industries were available. Oldest daughter Lauren eventually moved to Fort Worth and when she was pregnant eight years ago, Gillian came to be with her.

     "I told her I would stay if I could find a job," Gillian recalled. She applied for a child-care position that was advertised by First Presbyterian Church, then saw the nearby front entry at Trinity Terrace.

     "I walked across the street," she said, "and went to human resources, applied for the front-desk position ... and I got the job."

      She's been at Trinity Terrace ever since; her title is "lead concierge," meaning her work space is across from the front door. She is the smiling greeter, front-lobby traffic director and organizer -- it is often a busy place -- and she finds answers to questions and requests. She is the doer of good deeds.

      And now, a proud American citizen, with the citizenship paper and photos for proof.

      Trinity Terrace staff and residents honored her the next day with flowers, balloons, and a cake, and -- yes --- she registered to vote.

      "It was all so nice," she said. "I love it so much." 

      

              

       

       

    

One of my favorite columns

       Sometimes a writer walks into a wonderful column or story subject. And that's what happened here.

       I was reminded of this column written a little more than 39 years ago. Found it on the old Shreveport Journal files on newspapers.com, and it was sentimental to read it again.

       This was an award-winning piece in the annual Louisiana Sports Writers Association contest; in this case, the 1985 awards presented in July 1986.

       It was not a first-place award; it finished second in its category. Fine. Contest judging always is subjective, so we accepted -- with gratitude -- whatever the result.

       Winning awards is not why we chose the sportswriting/newspaper business, but they were a reminder that on a particular story, column or project, you did a good enough job to impress someone. 

       Doing the job well day after day -- and, well, helping sell newspapers -- was my personal aim. Didn't always succeed, sometimes in fact failed miserably, and had to move on. 

       Worked with many better writers and editors, some of them repetitive award winners. But awards did come this way occasionally, and every now and then, there is a reminder of the work involved. And it's fun to think back on that.

      This particular column came from a night when I covered a Texas League baseball game at SPAR Stadium, the (very) old home of the Shreveport Captains. It happened to be the Fourth of July, 1985.

       Sat down with an elderly man, a familiar season-ticket holder as he was making his return to the ballpark for the first time that season, and the first time as a widower. 

       Wasn't particularly looking to write a story or column, but simply to say hello to the gentleman, Mr. Eugene Hemard, who was 87. The story/column found us.

       Turned out to be a sweet piece, or maybe a bit bittersweet because Ms. Mamie wasn't there.

       Read it, and I hope you appreciate it. (And, yes, the photo is from when I was 38 years old. Don't look much like that anymore.)

 

The Holocaust museum in Amsterdam (at long last)

      

      On Sunday, the new Netherlands National Holocaust Museum will be dedicated in Amsterdam.

      (On the front of the building the sign says Nationaal Holocaust Museum ... that's the Dutch spelling of national).

       Anyway -- to use a favorite (borrowed) expression: What took them so long?

       It has been 82-plus years since the abuse, degradation and eventual deportation/deaths of Dutch Jews at the Nazi concentration camps began.

       There are several buildings and memorials to honor Holocaust prisoners and victims in Amsterdam; we have visited them on our three trips back to the old country, and we've written about them.

        But never has there been an actual Holocaust museum -- like many around the world, including those in Washington, D.C. and Dallas, for example -- in the Netherlands.

        Until now, thank goodness.

        We thank a friend at Trinity Terrace -- our seniors residency in Fort Worth -- for alerting us to The New York Times story about the museum (see link at the bottom of this blog). It was news to us. 

        If you know and understand our family's Holocaust history, you know that we think it is important.

        And it is important enough in Holland that today the Dutch king, Willem-Alexander, will attend the museum ceremony.

        (He will do so alongside the president of Israel, and with today's fragile Middle East situation, some 200 mosques -- Palestinian supporters -- and even a protesting Jewish organization or two suggested/demanded that Willem-Alexander not attend. His reply: I will be there.)

        Not coincidentally, we -- Beatrice and I -- were in Amsterdam the day (April 30, 2013) that Willem-Alexander became the first king of the Netherlands in more than 100 years.

       That was just a few days after we visited -- or re-visited -- four sites in the Jewish Quarter in Amsterdam: the Hollandsche Schouwburg,  the Joods Historisch Museum, the Portuguese Synagogue, and the Auschwitz memorial. 

    Here is a link to the blog piece I wrote then: https://nvanthyn.blogspot.com/2013/06/a-place-for-memories-and-tears.html

     Plenty of Holocaust history at those places, and we appreciated the sights.

     The new museum will tell -- as an Associated Press story this week noted -- the story "in video footage, photos, scale models and mementos, of Dutch victims of the Holocaust."

      As you also might know, my mother (Rose Van Thyn) spoke and wrote about her and our family's Holocaust experiences for many years. Will some of her material (photos, videos, articles, letters) be included in this Holocaust museum?

     Answer: We have no idea. Certainly no indication of that.

      My sister -- Elsa Van Thyn -- said in a note: "Guess the museum will feature Mama's statements about how the Dutch weren't the best for the Jews." 

      Don't know.

      But what we do know is that -- whether our family, especially those who lost their lives in the World War II years -- is directly acknowledged at the museum or not, the opening of this facility is a great thing.

       We cannot forget our people.

       And we are grateful for those who remember, and -- with this museum -- honor their memory.

---

      Here are links to information about the museum:

       -- Nationaal Holocaustmuseum  Museum/nl\ 

       -- https://www.yahoo.com/news/holocaust-museum-amsterdam-aims-tell-063005778.html?fr=sycsrp_catchall

     -- https://apnews.com/article/netherlands-holocaust-museum-antisemitism-4b7f1e725bb014283c57381425001aee

   -- With a New Holocaust Museum, the Netherlands Faces Its Past 

   

And now he's 50 (oh, my!)

     

      When our son turned 40 a decade ago, I wrote a blog titled, "When your kid is 40, where are you?"

      Let's catch up and change that 40 to 50. Yes, Jason Shawn Key is 50. Don't think he's too concerned about this milestone. 

      Just as 10 years ago, he stays busy with work and being a father -- and chauffeur to two boys (ages 15 and 13) who have lots to do and places to go.

       Reading back over the blog of 2014, we had to laugh at the recall of the Facebook message his sister -- five years younger -- posted then: "Hope you have a wonderful day and a long, slow, enjoyable slide down that hill."

      And then there was this:

      Gary West -- the horse-racing writer/expert and writer extraordinaire, period, and our old buddy from Shreveport Journal and Fort Worth Star-Telegram sports days -- sent this note on Jason's birthday:

       "This morning when I got up, I felt a little stiffness and soreness. When I wheeled out of bed and placed my feet on the floor, my knees sounded like two bowls of breakfast cereal. For no good reason, I was tired. In other words, I felt old. And now you tell me this:

       "J-Man is 40.

       "I'm going back to bed."

       Make that 50, and how are you feeling now, Mr. West? 

---

        First met him when he was almost 3, and I was single and enchanted with his mother. Didn't know that I wanted to get married, but when she brought him to my apartment for our first meeting, he was the most beautiful, cutest little boy I'd ever seen. His hair was blond, and perfect.

       Marriage, and being a daddy, soon didn't seem so daunting.

       He was still in a diaper some and still couldn't pronounce all his words -- I was "Nito" for a while and then "Daddy Nito" -- but his animal sounds were a hoot -- "cad-doo" (rooster) and "dobble-dobble" (turkey) -- and he wasn't fussy. And that dimple on his left cheek stood out, and still does.  

       Soon he was making trips to the newspaper with me and to

Centenary's Gold Dome and to SPAR Stadium for baseball, and after a while, he believed that Daddy owned those places.

       At 6, not long after he snuck his toy miniature trucks in his pants to school (and got them taken away, never to be retrieved), he began playing soccer. His Opa Louie was pleased by that, and -- well -- a referee for some of his games.

     In Hawaii -- where we moved in 1980-81 -- he was labeled "the franchise" by his  coach. He always could run fast, as fast as anyone on his teams, and he was solidly built and unafraid of contact. So soccer became a habit, and he played for 11 years -- always one of the best players on his team, but not always the star.

      He loved it, and Beatrice and I loved watching him. And we traveled a lot of places to do that.

       But he had a lot of interests other than sports. When it came time to stop playing on soccer teams, he began preparing for college. We were thrilled when, as we were living in northeast Florida, he was accepted at LSU. Maybe his "Daddy Nito" -- who first took him to LSU football games when he was 8 -- was an influence.

       He spent five years at LSU, loved it, and did earn a degree in business there. His mother was especially proud of his efforts; she had gotten over her everyday tears during his senior year in high school (Orange Park, Florida) when she thought of her little boy moving far away.

         But Mom and Jay were always close, and like her, he is a 

 people pleaser. He was from the time he was young, and still is. He is a helper, a  do-er. A dutiful son, and older brother, and friend. 

      More than anything these days, he is a father. His job -- vice-president of a construction plumbing supply company -- is important to him, but those boys are his world. 

        Jacob, the curly-haired one, is 15; Kaden, the growing younger one, is 13, and a budding soccer player whose speed is reminiscent of the young Jason. They are the middle two of our four grandchildren.

         They live about 45 miles from us, and come to Fort Worth to visit with us, and it's always great to see them. And Jason -- for years an avid foodie -- often brings a meal he has prepared.

         So now he's 50 -- and we are deep in our 70s. Wow. He is our J-Man, and he always will be. A beautiful little boy, a grown-up middle-aged man. We are pretty proud of him.

        

Super Bowl leftovers: Greatest? Too soon

Patrick Mahomes (15) proves again that he is a Super QB

    So the sports headlines this morning are suggesting that it's time to declare Patrick Mahomes the greatest quarterback ever.

       Please ... let's not rush into this.

       Yes, he's terrific, and played brilliantly in the Kansas City Chiefs' final two scoring drives Sunday in Super Bowl 58 (take your Roman numerals into the modern era, NFL).

       But greatest ever? Too soon.

       Three Super Bowl championships leave Mahomes only four behind Tom Brady (you do remember him, right?).

        Only two behind Bart Starr for NFL championships.

        Only one behind Terry Bradshaw -- Shreveport's and Woodlawn's/Louisiana Tech's Terry Bradshaw -- and Joe Montana.

       Tied in NFL championships with Johnny U. ... that's Unitas, for those of you who might have forgotten the Colts' No. 19 or don't even know who he was.  

      Tied, too, with the Cowboys' Troy Aikman.

      And even before our time -- the early 1950s -- Otto Graham and the Cleveland Browns were the NFL's dynasty team.

      (Quick note: Greatest ever? One of the most useless arguments in sports lore, in my opinion. Wrote a blog -- several years ago -- why I don't believe it this concept ... in any sport. Just too subjective a subject.)

Johnny U. (19), the legend began in 1958

     Speaking of Johnny U. ... let's go back to the famed 1958 NFL Championship Game -- "The Greatest Game Ever Played." Because that's what I thought about watching Sunday's game wind down.

      What Kansas City, and Mahomes, did on their final two drives was identical to what Johnny U. and the Baltimore Colts did on that early Sunday evening in December 1958 at, yes, the original Yankee Stadium.

     A desperate drive in the final two minutes of regulation for the tying field goal?

     Colts, 73 yards for a 20-yard field goal with 7 seconds remaining. (The first recognized "two-minute drill.") Check. Chiefs, 64 yards for a 29-yard FG with 3 seconds remaining.

     Winning overtime drive? Colts, 80 yards, after the Giants went three-and-out on a first possession. Check. Chiefs, 75 yards, after the 49ers had to settle for a field goal on their OT possession. 

     Clutch plays? How about Unitas' 11-yard pass to halfback Lenny Moore on a 3rd-and-10. Check. And Mahomes' 8-yard scramble on 4th-and-1 at the KC 36 when the Chiefs had to convert to extend the game.

    Great main receiver? The Colts' Raymond Berry (uniform No. 82) catching three consecutive passes for 62 yards to set up the tying FG. Check. The Chiefs' brutish Travis Kelce -- you know, the boyfriend -- with the 22-yard reception/run to the 49ers' 11 (ending at 0:10 in regulation time).

     So, 2023 Chiefs, meet the 1958 Colts. All the same.

      Think Andy Reid -- three Super Bowl titles as a head coach, two near-misses) -- is a legend? Well, he's well on the way, but ... 

      How about the 1958 NY Giants, the OT losers, whose offensive coordinator was Vince Lombardi and defensive coordinator was Tom Landry. Gee, what happened to those coaches? Did they ever have any more success?

    And Weeb Ewbank, the Colts' 1958 head coach, added another NFL title with the famed 1969 New York Jets. 

      And like KC now as a Super Bowl champion repeater, the Colts made it two titles in a row in 1959 (also against the same New York Giants).  

       KC has a dynasty, three Super Bowl titles in five years, four Super Bowl appearances in five years.

       Greatest dynasty? Let's not rush this.

       Almost -- almost -- as good as Lombardi's Green Bay Packers: five NFL titles in seven years, one near-miss (1960-66). Almost as good as Bradshaw and the Pittsburgh Steelers: four Super Bowl titles in six years (1974-79). Almost as good as the early 1990s Cowboys: three Super Bowl titles in four years.

       (You do remember the Cowboys in the Super Bowl? It's only been 28 years, but who's counting?)

       And the Patriots, Brady and coach Bill Belichick? Six titles, three seconds in 18 years. (And Belichick was the defensive coordinator for the only two Super Bowl titles Bill Parcells ever won, with the Giants.)

      Look, Mahomes is terrific and seems pretty humble about it (a lot more so than the boyfriend), and Andy Reid seems a likable personality and no one doubt his coaching genius.

     But greatest ever? Let's be sane about this. Old farts like me don't forget Lombardi, Landry, and Johnny U. ... And the Blond Bomber from Shreveport.

        

The Social Hour at Trinity Terrace: a history

          From humble beginnings, the Social Hour has grown into one of the best-attended, most-anticipated weekly events at Trinity Terrace.

      It began in 2008, and it was Martha Taylor's idea. Also credit Bill Starz for the start. (That's a tease; read below for the details).

      Whether the setting is Thursday-at-4 p.m. in the Longhorn Auditorium or the occasional evening venture outside on the terrace area, there are programs that draw up to 200 or so residents.

Trinity Terrace's ukulele players and singers

      Guests attend, too, especially when the "world-famous Trinity Terrace Ukulele Philharmonic Orchestra, Chorus, Marching Society and Drill Team" -- that's director Ken Knight's tongue-in-cheek description -- is featured (four times a year). 

      The uke group, which has grown from a dozen to some 40-plus residents, has been in existence since January 2010 and from its start a part of Social Hour. And it now usually draws a more-than-capacity crowd. So much so that two concerts -- Wednesday and Thursday -- are a new schedule feature.      

      Another great attraction: Resident Services director Behka Hartmann's program of songs ... be it jazz, classic or popular tunes and -- as in 2022 -- Christmas favorites. 

      Her annual program in late May, outside on a nice evening, has been tied to a meal for residents, sponsored and served in the past two years by home-care companies. 

      Since its very beginning, musical programs have been the core of the Social Hour schedule, and the main focus of those doing the scheduling.

      Bill Starz was the first Social Hour committee chairman, and the longest-serving: six years (2008-13). He was followed by Charles Kelley for a year (2014), Rev. Bill Gould for three years (2015-17), Ken Knight for two (2018-19) and currently Nico Van Thyn for four years (2020-23).

    There were two pandemic-forced interruptions -- four days short of one year, March 2020 to April 1, 2021, and then another eight weeks (last week of 2021, first seven of 2022).

     Lonely times at Trinity Terrace, right?

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     Many programs feature speakers -- book authors, newspaper people, Fort Worth notables, residents sharing their travel adventures, medical experts, etc.

     Some have attracted full-house audiences, such as then-mayor Betsy Price and most recently Tarrant County Sheriff Bill Waybourn. Most memorably, in 2017, there was then-new resident Dr. Bobby Brown -- New York Yankees star-turned-Fort Worth cardiologist who went overtime sharing his wealth of humorous stories. 

      Back to music: There are a dozen "regulars" audiences appreciate -- such as resident classical pianist Patrick Stanford; songs by Lisa Garrett, the aforementioned Ken Knight, Nancy and Gregg Froman, and Bob McClendon;  piano-and-trumpet by Debbie and Ken Cockerham; piano duos (Nancy and Bruce Muskrat, Doris Gameiro and Jose Cubela), piano entertainer Buddy Bray, piano/music historian Beverly Howard (a resident), the "Warmin'  Up team (Morgan Sullivan and Jim Duff), TCU students (with vocals and wind instruments), the Camp Meeting Boys group (with yodeler Devin Dawson); and the always reliable Texas Winds Outreach programs.

      Give a huge assist for at least 10 programs in 2023 to the Trinity Terrace Foundation, which provided $2,500 to pay for music and speakers. That meant -- in many people's opinion -- a boost in program quality.

      It gave the Social Hour a budget, an unprecedented development. Previously, when payment was requested, funds were drawn -- occasionally -- from the Resident Services department.

Paschal High School's mariachi group, 2022

      Resident Services also has tied several events to the Social Hour -- Valentine's Day, St. Patrick's Day, Cinco de Mayo (which in the past two years has featured high school mariachi groups from Paschal and Northside), Octoberfest, Halloween, Christmas, New Year's Eve. Next year, too: Christmas in July.

     Another goal in scheduling is to have residents do the program. They have done at least a dozen almost every year; in some of the early Social Hour years as many as 20.

     And Trinity Terrace staffers have been the performers, too. Once upon a time, the omnipresent Alex Smith -- now the events setup coordinator, but younger then -- sang Al Green tunes ("I wowed them ... I was good," he said, laughing at the recall.) 

      A decade ago, it was Bobby Davis (director of facility services) playing guitar alongside his teacher, our house painter Arjan Golemi (the Greek native). (Bobby since has switched to drums, and plays for his church worship group.)  

      And coming in November, five staffers -- Dining Services workers Kristian Thomas, Jaelon Wingham and Emily Gonzalez, weekend security guard Jacob Montgomery, and package-deliver specialist Emmanual Ogunyomi -- will perform a program of "scenes" and music.

      For a third year in a row, there will be a "Resident Roundtable" -- four residents covering their life stories -- on November 9.

A cooking demonstration: Dr. Loanne
 Chiu and chef Leon  Rivera III, 2022

    One more "in-house" program in the planning: Remember a year ago the cooking demonstration by resident Dr. Loanne Chiu and chef Leon Rivera III (with cookies by Diane Kessler). On the prospective 2024 schedule, February 1: a "cakes-cookies-pies" program featuring Elm Fork pastry chef Carol McFarland, with short segments by residents JoAnn Johnson, Jim Barker, Pat Adams and Diane Kessler (again). Plus, treats for the audience.

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      About those humble beginnings, and Martha Taylor. She is now the matriarch of Trinity Terrace. In 2008, she was a spy, energetic 90-year-old with a plan: a weekly gathering of residents for music and -- yes -- drinks, a social gathering.

Martha Taylor

     She took her idea to Bill Starz, who agreed to be the first chairman. And he could play harmonica, which he often did in the first few years of Social Hour.

      Their first meeting drew about eight people and was held in a room that no longer exists -- near the Elm Fork dining room on the Terrace Tower's main floor (the expanded library and mail area are there now).

     Word got around and the weekly attendance grew, and soon it was time to move to the bigger Worth Lounge.

     The name went from Happy Hour to Sundowners -- neither acceptable -- and then Social Hour was a fit.

      More music, more drinks, more people, and Bill Starz went to then-executive director Lee Patterson to ask if the Longhorn Auditorium could be used for Social Hour.

     The answer was yes, and Social Hour had a permanent home. 

     Martha Taylor taught herself to play piano, and she was the Social Hour program on several occasions. And much appreciated.

       "Someone would call sick at the last minute, or unable to come for another reason," recalled Bill Gould of his time as chairman, "and Martha would say, 'I can do the program.'

    "She could tear it up," Bill added. "She played ragtime. Couldn't read music, but she could play by feel, and people loved it. ... She would get after it."

     Also, he said, "She is one of the sweetest, most enjoyable, pleasant people to be with. ... She would play piano in her apartment with the door open, and her neighbors loved it."

      Another hero was resident Judy Norman, who was on the Social Hour committee and, said Bill, "saved my bacon a couple of times" by creating programs -- poetry reading, play acting, the "Goofy Geezers" comedy (?) troupe. She remains a help with program suggestions.

      Originally, the Social Hour plan was to have a program for some 25-30 minutes, then let people visit (drink) ... socialize. Bill Gould, as scheduler, found it increasingly difficult to bring in musical guests and limit them to a half hour. So gradually -- and continuing with Ken Knight as chairman -- the programs grew to 40-45 minutes (or more).

     Ken, who had begun visiting for Social Hour before he and Richard Morehead moved in as residents in August 2017, felt that not having a budget for Social Hour was a "major concern," and scheduling was "a constant, ongoing stressor." 

     But in one of his two years in charge, Ken lined up 40 musical programs (in 51 weeks). His first guest: classical guitarist Dr. Will Douglas, a program regular.

     "I got lots of tremendous feedback [from residents]," Ken said. "People thought I was walking on water. We were fortunate to have some good musical talent come in."

      With his leadership, the ukulele/vocal group has grown to the enthusiastic 40-plus.

      Currently, suggestions for programs are always welcomed, and usually followed up. With the help of Resident Services and the Trinity Terrace Foundation, programming will continue to be impressive.

     Humble beginnings to a weekly attraction. Who knows, we might get another Alex Smith sing-along or a Thai cooking demonstration by Sithichart Phatanapirom (our "Bob"). 

     Come to Social Hour, and check it out.

On this date 77 years ago ...

     On October 14, 1946, Rozette Lopes Dias -- then with the last name Lazer -- married Louis Van Thyn in war-weary Amsterdam.

    We are still grateful 77 years later.

The wedding photo: 1946

    Who knew on that day -- a Monday and a trip to City Hall for the wedding ceremony -- how long their lives would go, and how far they would travel.

     They'd known each other for little more than a year. And they had been through so much in the previous half-dozen years, some horrific experiences -- certainly not of their choosing.

     They each had lost so much, and they had precious little family remaining.

     So, who knows how deep their love was then. But they knew they needed each other.

      Their stories -- their combined story -- has a beautiful ending, of course: Almost 62 years of marriage, the last 51-plus in two homes they owned.

       And such good fortune: Two children they never expected -- me and my younger sister Elsa --  and from that, five grandchildren. From there, to the present-day nine great-grandchildren (but only a couple born while Louis and Rose still lived).

       Plus, a journey of almost 5,000 miles and two weeks from the wonderful place where they grew up (Hup Holland!) to the country  where Mom always dreamed of living, the result of how well American military personnel treated her and other women Holocaust survivors upon rescue in early 1945.

      And what culture shock -- from a busy center of a million people to a state and city of which they'd never heard (Louisiana? Shreveport?).

    They could not have known, did not know, how accepting, how helpful, those people in Shreveport would be. First, the Jewish community, but soon far beyond that, from all over. 

      It was a perfect fit, certainly moreso than it could have been in, say, the New York City melting pot of millions.           

      In 1 1/2 years, they were home owners. In five years, they became U.S. citizens ... and darned proud of it.

      Parts of their hearts, though, was with the few family members and many friends they left behind in The Netherlands. And also with the friends -- and eventually some family -- in Israel, the Jewish-dominated state created in 1948.

       That included the very couple that had introduced them to each other in the summer of 1945. Those two people were the only married couple housed -- in an attic room -- at the former factory converted into a safe shelter for women Holocaust survivors who had returned to Amsterdam.

     The man knew Dad from boyhood days in Amsterdam. The woman was Mom's best friend at Auschwitz; they had been in elementary school together and had reunited while standing in line after they got out of the cattle-car transport to the concentration camp.

     After they survived the Holocaust, that couple moved to Israel, specifically to Narahija.

      Which brings us to today, to this past week and Hamas' invasion of Israel. 

       Because -- as I've been asked repeatedly this week -- we do have distant connections in Israel.

      That couple's granddaughter is now on active duty with the Israel military.

      A grandson and granddaughter of Mom's favorite first cousin (Maurits) in Amsterdam, and the granddaughter's husband (a tank driver) are reservists called to active duty. 

      Maurits' son married an Israeli girl; they live in Jerusalem. And Maurits' daughter, who lives in Antwerp, Belgium, has four children living in Israel, but -- because they are Belgian citizens -- none are in the service. 

     (Maurits' children are our second cousins, once removed. At least, that's the best we can figure.)

---  

      Can tell you this: Grateful that Mom and Dad are not around to endure this latest invasion of Israel. They would have been extremely concerned.

      Because that's how they were in 1967 (the "Six-Day War" and 1973 (the Yom Kippur War) when Arab military forces invaded Israel.

       Television news then wasn't 24-7 -- Shreveport had only three TV stations and three networks -- but Mom watched (and worried) every report. Dad was working at the pipeyard, but I know he and the people there were paying attention.

       I think about this now because we've had the news on constantly here. 

      Thought about writing about baseball -- how much I've watched this Texas Rangers' season -- or football (LSU, Louisiana Tech and the Dallas Cowboys are always topics of interest in this apartment). 

      Wanted to say how good the Rangers have been and how good it feels for their fans. Same for the Houston Astros and their Yankees-like dynasty of the past seven years.

       But writing about athletics just didn't seem right this week. (Maybe if a certain team had recaptured its glory of so many decades I might be more involved, but that hasn't happened in 14 seasons. So there.)

        No, there is sadness here for all those deaths and injured in Israel, in Gaza. Not only the Jewish people, but the thousands of innocent Palestinians. They, too, are victims of Hamas, and Israel's penchant -- determination -- for revenge.

       No winners in this. None. No end in sight.

       Sad.

       And when I heard on TV someone say that "people died just because they were Jewish," I thought, yes, that's how it was for our grandparents, uncles and aunts, Mom and Dad's first spouses, plus their many uncles, aunts and cousins.

      Even through many good times, Mom and Dad never forgot. Nor do we ever forget, and we shouldn't.

      We want Israel to survive and thrive. But we, too, want the Palestinians to have peace and good times.

      We are for peace, period.

      I know those two people who took those wedding vows -- who committed to each other -- on October 14, 1946, would approve of that.

      They were blessed, and so were we. We wish the same for millions of others.