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.