I was asked to write this for Veterans Day, and it was my pleasure. This is a man who much deserves to be recognized. Art is a 97-year-old, 30-year Marine (WW II, Korea, Vietnam). Great life, wonderful story.
Showing posts with label Trinity Terrace. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Trinity Terrace. Show all posts
Friday, November 13, 2020
Monday, March 30, 2020
A different time, but staying busy
So the questions have been posed repeatedly in the past three weeks: How are you things at your place? How are you spending your time?
Short answers: We are fine; we are well. But, believe it, we are staying fairly busy.
We are reading a lot -- here are the stacks of books Beatrice and I have been working. (That's in addition to e-mail and Facebook messages.)
I am working on my sixth book in the past month. Some are sports-related, some are not. I have had some of these stacked here for months, and now have time to read them.
Bea usually reads books much more than I do -- I read more Internet (sports) news than she does -- so she always is in reading form.
We are watching more television news than I care to do. Enough said.
We are not on lockdown, but we are being urged to mostly stay out of sight. So we venture out some -- we have walked to the nearby store, across the 7th Street bridge, to stock up on a couple of times recently.
(Haven't found any toilet paper, though.)
To expand on the answers -- if you care to know more -- here is a blog post with some details.
For those who live in our facility and read this blog, they will be familiar with some of this material. For you "outsiders," here is what is going on here (if you care).
First, credit to management here at Trinity Terrace and at Pacific Retirement Services (PRS), the managing firm based in Oregon, for doing all they can to keep us safe.
Most importantly, no outside visitors, including family and friends. Only exceptions: (1) essential health personnel -- nurses, doctors, (limited) caretakers; (2) end-of-life situations.
Before people come in from outside, medical personnel is checking their temperatures and asking health-related questions.
Emphasis is being placed on social-distancing rules, urging us to stay at least 6 feet apart. Do you realize hard difficult that is on, say, an elevator? (They now have spaces marked in the elevators, so no more than four people at a time.)
Hand sanitizers available in many, many places. This had been a growing concern before the current crisis.
No exercise classes (yes, I miss them -- yoga, stretch-training, water aerobics, and for Bea, tai chi).
Getting some exercise with daily walks; I am still going for lengthy walks -- weather permitting -- outside a couple of times a week. There are people here who regularly walk the hallways in the buildings, and they still are.
No gatherings. So no Social Hour in our big auditorium -- every Thursday at 4 p.m. -- with a program each week (usually a guest speaker or musical performer, sometimes a resident).
No twice-a-month Saturday Morning Coffee events (with a program). No monthly birthday party. No regular Wednesday PM practice for the world-famous Trinity Terrace Ukulele Orchestra and Singers.
No regular events scheduled by the Resident Services department. (Exception: a sing-along on the apartment balconies and in our terrace area, with people spaced apart, a couple of Saturdays ago.)
No scheduled outside trips scheduled by Resident Services -- to restaurants, museums, plays, concerts. These are usually popular.
No transportation services, except medical/dental visits. Those of us who no longer have a car can take seven "free" trips -- not counting medical/dental rides -- we are allowed per month.
Limited access -- one hour early in the day, two hours in the afternoon -- to our in-house Country Store (a convenience store for residents, guests and staff).
No White Elephant Store (an in-house retail store for goods) activities, which also means no apartment sales. (This store's benefits go almost exclusively to workers here.)
The pool, usually open at all hours, is limited to one person at a time, for no more than 30 minutes -- and that time must be scheduled.
Nail and hair salons closed.
Restaurants (three of them here) closed. But we're not going hungry. We now order meals (one a day) and they are delivered -- in a bag, with plastic dispensers -- to our door.
(What made the decision to close the restaurants an easy one for management was evident a couple of Sundays ago when there were some 60-plus people at one time in the restaurant at one time, and the buffet line was full, with people standing right next to each other. We saw that, and said that ain't going to work.)
Housekeeping service -- once every two weeks -- remains intact. This requires an explanation.
Management had decided that housekeeping services could be a hindrance in social distancing. But many of the aging, limited residents suggested -- uh, complained -- that they were not capable physically of doing their own housework. So management reversed its thinking, and reinstated the schedule.
Same was true with the Country Store (this is basically not a money-making operation, but available for the convenience of staff and residents).
Decision was made to close the store (which is usually open 10 a.m. to 2 p.m. Monday through Friday, 10 a.m. to noon Saturday).
Reasoning: often too many people in the store, too close together, at once, too much touching. Doors, especially to the coolers that hold the most popular items (50-cent soft-drink cans, 50- and 80-cent ice cream bars), being touched repeatedly. Items on shelves -- candy bars, chips, cookies, etc. -- being touched.
But several/many older residents were not happy with the closure, saying they could not go to outside stores and regularly relied on our Country Store for some items.
So management partly reversed its decision. Now instead of two residents volunteering to work the two-hour shifts, the staff person (Brandon Roberts) who usually buys and stocks the store's goods is manning the store three hours a day, setting up at a desk blocking the door entrance, taking people's orders and filling them, handling the money (while wearing protective gloves).
We thank him. I especially thank him.
To personalize this -- and I don't mean to be bragging -- I have been committee chairman (with some co-chairs) of The Country Store since December 2018. That means scheduling the workers, filling in when needed, and often stocking the store (mostly soft drinks) between shifts.
Similarly, the suspension of the Social Hour also affects me. With several other people, we have been chairpersons of that committee since the start of this year, which means being the host/emcee of the program and scheduling the guests.
We had the programs lined up through the end of July. When we resume activities, it will require rescheduling guests ... so far we have a month's worth to reschedule.
Ah, heck, we like doing it.
Bea also is affected by suspension; in her case, the White Elephant Store activities. Starting a few weeks ago, she took over the chairperson role of that 25-person committee and -- I'm sure a lot of those people will agree -- it is no easy task (much more difficult than Social Hour or Country Store).
Frankly, it had been about a month's work -- several hours, many phone calls and visits a day -- for Bea. There was some stress involved. No, a lot of stress.
White Elephant goods -- clothes, furniture, miscellanous discarded items -- are donated by residents and/or staff, but much of them come from apartments that are vacated here. Most, unfortunately, are vacated by deaths, and after the family takes what it wants from the apartment, the rest is left to the White Elephant committee' disgression.
There is a near-the-end-of-the monthly sale, plus apartment sales. Whatever profits are made go into year-end bonuses for staff, and for school scholarships for staffers.
It is, in our opinion, one of Trinity Terrace's biggest assets, an important contribution to this place.
And we give credit to management for re-thinking some of its decisions, thinking of the benefits for our residents and staff.
Good news -- and we pray this holds up -- no COVID-19 cases here.
---
As for me, I have been asked if I miss sports. Obviously, yes, but so do all sports fans.
I would be deep into following major-league baseball right now -- especially the New York team in the American League -- but, honestly, people remaining healthy is a helluva lot more crucial than any sports event.
So, like everyone, we missed the NCAA Tournaments -- always fun -- and college spring sports, and the NHL and NBA playoffs (so far). But, don't laugh, the intensity of LSU's football season wore me out, so the break is OK.
In addition to reading, one of the things that keeps me busy -- in addition to writing way-too-long pieces like this -- is that I do research online.
I generally have some research projects going regarding the history of Louisiana high school athletics ... that has been a passion since I was a teenager.
Spent way too many hours looking at microfilm at The Shreveport Times and Shreveport Journal in the 1960s, '70s and '80s when I should have been working on becoming a better writer.
So I have updated Louisiana baseball state-championship game results, and for the past year and a half, have been researching, updating and, in some cases, correcting Louisiana high school state track and field champions -- individual events, relays and team results -- that Jerry Byrd Sr. had compiled (and published in a book) through 2004.
Having to retype what Jerry had because they were not available online, and still working on that. Still to go: compiling the results from 2005 to 2019. (Looks as if we won't have to deal with 2020; that's awful, isn't it?)
So big task, hours and hours of looking at past files in newspapers.com
Always plenty to do, always plenty to read.
Stay safe out there. Keep the faith that all will be well.
Short answers: We are fine; we are well. But, believe it, we are staying fairly busy.We are reading a lot -- here are the stacks of books Beatrice and I have been working. (That's in addition to e-mail and Facebook messages.)
I am working on my sixth book in the past month. Some are sports-related, some are not. I have had some of these stacked here for months, and now have time to read them.
Bea usually reads books much more than I do -- I read more Internet (sports) news than she does -- so she always is in reading form.
We are watching more television news than I care to do. Enough said.
We are not on lockdown, but we are being urged to mostly stay out of sight. So we venture out some -- we have walked to the nearby store, across the 7th Street bridge, to stock up on a couple of times recently.
(Haven't found any toilet paper, though.)
To expand on the answers -- if you care to know more -- here is a blog post with some details.
For those who live in our facility and read this blog, they will be familiar with some of this material. For you "outsiders," here is what is going on here (if you care).
First, credit to management here at Trinity Terrace and at Pacific Retirement Services (PRS), the managing firm based in Oregon, for doing all they can to keep us safe.
Most importantly, no outside visitors, including family and friends. Only exceptions: (1) essential health personnel -- nurses, doctors, (limited) caretakers; (2) end-of-life situations.
Before people come in from outside, medical personnel is checking their temperatures and asking health-related questions.
Emphasis is being placed on social-distancing rules, urging us to stay at least 6 feet apart. Do you realize hard difficult that is on, say, an elevator? (They now have spaces marked in the elevators, so no more than four people at a time.)
Hand sanitizers available in many, many places. This had been a growing concern before the current crisis.
No meetings (we have a Resident Council and its various committees and a Foundation group that meet occasionally).
No games (regular card games, bingo games, pool table and ping-pong table).No exercise classes (yes, I miss them -- yoga, stretch-training, water aerobics, and for Bea, tai chi).
Getting some exercise with daily walks; I am still going for lengthy walks -- weather permitting -- outside a couple of times a week. There are people here who regularly walk the hallways in the buildings, and they still are.
No gatherings. So no Social Hour in our big auditorium -- every Thursday at 4 p.m. -- with a program each week (usually a guest speaker or musical performer, sometimes a resident).
No twice-a-month Saturday Morning Coffee events (with a program). No monthly birthday party. No regular Wednesday PM practice for the world-famous Trinity Terrace Ukulele Orchestra and Singers.
No regular events scheduled by the Resident Services department. (Exception: a sing-along on the apartment balconies and in our terrace area, with people spaced apart, a couple of Saturdays ago.)
No scheduled outside trips scheduled by Resident Services -- to restaurants, museums, plays, concerts. These are usually popular.
No transportation services, except medical/dental visits. Those of us who no longer have a car can take seven "free" trips -- not counting medical/dental rides -- we are allowed per month.
Limited access -- one hour early in the day, two hours in the afternoon -- to our in-house Country Store (a convenience store for residents, guests and staff).
No White Elephant Store (an in-house retail store for goods) activities, which also means no apartment sales. (This store's benefits go almost exclusively to workers here.)
The pool, usually open at all hours, is limited to one person at a time, for no more than 30 minutes -- and that time must be scheduled.
Nail and hair salons closed.
Restaurants (three of them here) closed. But we're not going hungry. We now order meals (one a day) and they are delivered -- in a bag, with plastic dispensers -- to our door.
(What made the decision to close the restaurants an easy one for management was evident a couple of Sundays ago when there were some 60-plus people at one time in the restaurant at one time, and the buffet line was full, with people standing right next to each other. We saw that, and said that ain't going to work.)
Housekeeping service -- once every two weeks -- remains intact. This requires an explanation.
Management had decided that housekeeping services could be a hindrance in social distancing. But many of the aging, limited residents suggested -- uh, complained -- that they were not capable physically of doing their own housework. So management reversed its thinking, and reinstated the schedule.
Same was true with the Country Store (this is basically not a money-making operation, but available for the convenience of staff and residents).
Decision was made to close the store (which is usually open 10 a.m. to 2 p.m. Monday through Friday, 10 a.m. to noon Saturday).
Reasoning: often too many people in the store, too close together, at once, too much touching. Doors, especially to the coolers that hold the most popular items (50-cent soft-drink cans, 50- and 80-cent ice cream bars), being touched repeatedly. Items on shelves -- candy bars, chips, cookies, etc. -- being touched.
But several/many older residents were not happy with the closure, saying they could not go to outside stores and regularly relied on our Country Store for some items.
So management partly reversed its decision. Now instead of two residents volunteering to work the two-hour shifts, the staff person (Brandon Roberts) who usually buys and stocks the store's goods is manning the store three hours a day, setting up at a desk blocking the door entrance, taking people's orders and filling them, handling the money (while wearing protective gloves).
We thank him. I especially thank him.
To personalize this -- and I don't mean to be bragging -- I have been committee chairman (with some co-chairs) of The Country Store since December 2018. That means scheduling the workers, filling in when needed, and often stocking the store (mostly soft drinks) between shifts.
Similarly, the suspension of the Social Hour also affects me. With several other people, we have been chairpersons of that committee since the start of this year, which means being the host/emcee of the program and scheduling the guests.
We had the programs lined up through the end of July. When we resume activities, it will require rescheduling guests ... so far we have a month's worth to reschedule.
Ah, heck, we like doing it.
Bea also is affected by suspension; in her case, the White Elephant Store activities. Starting a few weeks ago, she took over the chairperson role of that 25-person committee and -- I'm sure a lot of those people will agree -- it is no easy task (much more difficult than Social Hour or Country Store).
Frankly, it had been about a month's work -- several hours, many phone calls and visits a day -- for Bea. There was some stress involved. No, a lot of stress.
White Elephant goods -- clothes, furniture, miscellanous discarded items -- are donated by residents and/or staff, but much of them come from apartments that are vacated here. Most, unfortunately, are vacated by deaths, and after the family takes what it wants from the apartment, the rest is left to the White Elephant committee' disgression.
There is a near-the-end-of-the monthly sale, plus apartment sales. Whatever profits are made go into year-end bonuses for staff, and for school scholarships for staffers.
It is, in our opinion, one of Trinity Terrace's biggest assets, an important contribution to this place.
And we give credit to management for re-thinking some of its decisions, thinking of the benefits for our residents and staff.
Good news -- and we pray this holds up -- no COVID-19 cases here.
---
As for me, I have been asked if I miss sports. Obviously, yes, but so do all sports fans.
I would be deep into following major-league baseball right now -- especially the New York team in the American League -- but, honestly, people remaining healthy is a helluva lot more crucial than any sports event.
So, like everyone, we missed the NCAA Tournaments -- always fun -- and college spring sports, and the NHL and NBA playoffs (so far). But, don't laugh, the intensity of LSU's football season wore me out, so the break is OK.
In addition to reading, one of the things that keeps me busy -- in addition to writing way-too-long pieces like this -- is that I do research online.
I generally have some research projects going regarding the history of Louisiana high school athletics ... that has been a passion since I was a teenager.
Spent way too many hours looking at microfilm at The Shreveport Times and Shreveport Journal in the 1960s, '70s and '80s when I should have been working on becoming a better writer.
So I have updated Louisiana baseball state-championship game results, and for the past year and a half, have been researching, updating and, in some cases, correcting Louisiana high school state track and field champions -- individual events, relays and team results -- that Jerry Byrd Sr. had compiled (and published in a book) through 2004.
Having to retype what Jerry had because they were not available online, and still working on that. Still to go: compiling the results from 2005 to 2019. (Looks as if we won't have to deal with 2020; that's awful, isn't it?)
So big task, hours and hours of looking at past files in newspapers.com
Always plenty to do, always plenty to read.
Stay safe out there. Keep the faith that all will be well.
Saturday, March 7, 2020
Here's the toughest part ...
Move into a seniors residency, which we did in June 2019, and you soon face a stark reality:
Many of our fellow residents don't have long to live.
And it hurts to lose people. It especially hurts when we have gotten to be friends with them, or with their family members.
It's never easy, and it's been especially difficult the past two weeks as we've lost three men and one woman.
Two of the men had been close for years, part of a three-couples group that spent much time together, in and out of the facility. Those two men, sadly, visibly declined health-wise over the past couple of months and their passings came four days apart.
Because of shared beliefs and interests, I became a parttime member of that little group. So those losses, while not unexpected, were tough to take.
But again, reality check. We had 43 deaths here last year; in the first 67 days of this year, the count is 10.
Not unexpected, though. The great majority of our residents (and there are about 450) are at least 80; a significant number are near 90, and many are ailing. I know of three that are 100-plus.
And so, health is fragile in many cases. Mobility is limited. That's just the way it is; aging is a challenge.
Here's what else: The great majority are genuinely nice people, and they are doing the very best they can manage. There is a lot of determination, and from me, there is admiration for all.
When someone dies, the Resident Services office posts their photo and an "in memorium" label above it. Each day, as you walk past the spots where those picture frames are posted, you learn to look for them.
Any day without one of those picture frames posted is a good day. There are, fortunately, a lot of good days here.
Every resident -- everyone, really -- has his/her own story, and we cannot possibly tell all. But because of the respect for and the connections with these three men and their families, here is a closer look.
To begin, common threads: (1) long marriages; (2) military service; (3) college educations; (4) long, steady careers; (5) families of which they were proud, as those family members were proud of their man.
Joe Armstrong, 85, was married to Frankye for 64 years; Bill Starz, 92, was married to Janice for 68 years; Robert Brower, 95, was married to Joyce for 74 years. Wow.
Joe, right out of high school, was a U.S. Marine who served in the Korean Conflict and he was as proud a Marine as one could be (then again, all Marines are proud). At our events here, with military mentions, he was the first one on his feet at the sound of the Marine Hymn ("The Halls of Montezuma"). His memorial service ended with that hymn.
Bill was a Navy man; Bob in the Army Air Corps during WW II.
Mr. Brower grew up in Queen City, Missouri, and attended Vanderbilt and Tarrant County College. For years and years, he was postal inspector, retiring in Fort Worth in 1978 from a significant post in that role here.
Mr. Armstrong was from Bowlegs, Oklahoma -- not making that up; he loved being from Bowlegs -- and, while he worked in the utilities business, he went to night school for more than a decade to finally earn a degree from University of Texas-Arlington.
Mr. Starz was from the New York City area -- his accent told you that -- and he went to Seton Hall and New York University. In Fort Worth, he retired as a vice-president at Alcon Laboratories, the huge eye-care device company based here.
The Browers have two children, three grandchildren, six great-grandchildren; the Armstrongs have three children, nine grands, seven great-grands; the Starzs had three children -- two died relatively young -- and have two grandkids.
Because Joe's original family was a large one, the family that attended his memorial service must have numbered at least 50.
Reading the Starz obit, we saw a heartbreaking aspect of his and Janice's lives -- one child died at age 12, another at 24. Which is why they were big supporters of the WARM Place, a grief support center for children in Fort Worth.
There were many conversations and fun times with Joe and Bill, and they were well-liked in this facility.
We knew that Joe Armstrong had a sly, quiet sense of humor and he was more a listener than a talker, but when he contributed to a conversation, it was usually a thoughtful (and often funny) moment. Bill Starz could spin some stories and he was our "harmonica man" -- he loved entertaining with that instrument -- and he was the driving reason for the expansion of our weekly Thursday afternoon "Social Hour."
Did not know Robert Brower as well; he was wheelchair-bound and not vocal, and his room was in our skilled-nursing unit. But we had a couple of connections -- his wife lives on our floor; his son and daughter went to high schools in Louisiana, and both attended Louisiana Tech University.
The son, a doctor, is a Bolton High (Alexandria) and Tech graduate who roomed there with one of our old Woodlawn High buddies, and he now lives in Baton Rouge, so he is -- what else? -- an avid LSU fan. (And he knows what's happening with LSU teams).
The daughter, a Behrman High (New Orleans) grad, has been the main caretaker for her mother and father, with much help from her son (their grandson) Nick. She, too, is an LSU fan, but also partial to TCU.
We are sad for them, but so appreciative that they have been here so often for their folks.
Just as we felt for Frankye and Janice as they took such great care for the loves of their lives over the past couple of months.
We are blessed here to have a chaplain, Tricia Baldwin, who works to make her pastoral reflections at memorial services so reflective, finding ancedotes -- often humorous -- through her talks with family members and friends.
There is much support -- and love -- here among the residents and staff, and what we know is that as we age, we need to stay active, physically if at all possible, and mentally. So many activities and events here are geared toward that.
We know, too, that losing people is part of our lives. "We are living in God's waiting room" is how one resident puts it.
We see our mortality; we know that one day it will be us.
So we reflect on where we are, and we certainly can identify with the often-used words of condolence, "sorry for your loss."
Many of our fellow residents don't have long to live.
And it hurts to lose people. It especially hurts when we have gotten to be friends with them, or with their family members.
It's never easy, and it's been especially difficult the past two weeks as we've lost three men and one woman.
Two of the men had been close for years, part of a three-couples group that spent much time together, in and out of the facility. Those two men, sadly, visibly declined health-wise over the past couple of months and their passings came four days apart.
Because of shared beliefs and interests, I became a parttime member of that little group. So those losses, while not unexpected, were tough to take.
But again, reality check. We had 43 deaths here last year; in the first 67 days of this year, the count is 10.
Not unexpected, though. The great majority of our residents (and there are about 450) are at least 80; a significant number are near 90, and many are ailing. I know of three that are 100-plus.
And so, health is fragile in many cases. Mobility is limited. That's just the way it is; aging is a challenge.
Here's what else: The great majority are genuinely nice people, and they are doing the very best they can manage. There is a lot of determination, and from me, there is admiration for all.
When someone dies, the Resident Services office posts their photo and an "in memorium" label above it. Each day, as you walk past the spots where those picture frames are posted, you learn to look for them.
Any day without one of those picture frames posted is a good day. There are, fortunately, a lot of good days here.
Every resident -- everyone, really -- has his/her own story, and we cannot possibly tell all. But because of the respect for and the connections with these three men and their families, here is a closer look.
To begin, common threads: (1) long marriages; (2) military service; (3) college educations; (4) long, steady careers; (5) families of which they were proud, as those family members were proud of their man.
Joe Armstrong, 85, was married to Frankye for 64 years; Bill Starz, 92, was married to Janice for 68 years; Robert Brower, 95, was married to Joyce for 74 years. Wow.
 |
| Joe Armstrong and Frankye at our recent Valentine's Day gathering (photo by Daniel Mancillas) |
Bill was a Navy man; Bob in the Army Air Corps during WW II.
Mr. Brower grew up in Queen City, Missouri, and attended Vanderbilt and Tarrant County College. For years and years, he was postal inspector, retiring in Fort Worth in 1978 from a significant post in that role here.
 |
| Robert Brower |
 |
| Bill Starz |
Mr. Starz was from the New York City area -- his accent told you that -- and he went to Seton Hall and New York University. In Fort Worth, he retired as a vice-president at Alcon Laboratories, the huge eye-care device company based here.
The Browers have two children, three grandchildren, six great-grandchildren; the Armstrongs have three children, nine grands, seven great-grands; the Starzs had three children -- two died relatively young -- and have two grandkids.
Because Joe's original family was a large one, the family that attended his memorial service must have numbered at least 50.
Reading the Starz obit, we saw a heartbreaking aspect of his and Janice's lives -- one child died at age 12, another at 24. Which is why they were big supporters of the WARM Place, a grief support center for children in Fort Worth.
There were many conversations and fun times with Joe and Bill, and they were well-liked in this facility.
We knew that Joe Armstrong had a sly, quiet sense of humor and he was more a listener than a talker, but when he contributed to a conversation, it was usually a thoughtful (and often funny) moment. Bill Starz could spin some stories and he was our "harmonica man" -- he loved entertaining with that instrument -- and he was the driving reason for the expansion of our weekly Thursday afternoon "Social Hour."
Did not know Robert Brower as well; he was wheelchair-bound and not vocal, and his room was in our skilled-nursing unit. But we had a couple of connections -- his wife lives on our floor; his son and daughter went to high schools in Louisiana, and both attended Louisiana Tech University.
The son, a doctor, is a Bolton High (Alexandria) and Tech graduate who roomed there with one of our old Woodlawn High buddies, and he now lives in Baton Rouge, so he is -- what else? -- an avid LSU fan. (And he knows what's happening with LSU teams).
The daughter, a Behrman High (New Orleans) grad, has been the main caretaker for her mother and father, with much help from her son (their grandson) Nick. She, too, is an LSU fan, but also partial to TCU.
We are sad for them, but so appreciative that they have been here so often for their folks.
Just as we felt for Frankye and Janice as they took such great care for the loves of their lives over the past couple of months.
We are blessed here to have a chaplain, Tricia Baldwin, who works to make her pastoral reflections at memorial services so reflective, finding ancedotes -- often humorous -- through her talks with family members and friends.
There is much support -- and love -- here among the residents and staff, and what we know is that as we age, we need to stay active, physically if at all possible, and mentally. So many activities and events here are geared toward that.
We know, too, that losing people is part of our lives. "We are living in God's waiting room" is how one resident puts it.
We see our mortality; we know that one day it will be us.
So we reflect on where we are, and we certainly can identify with the often-used words of condolence, "sorry for your loss."
Wednesday, May 1, 2019
About the "Social Hour" at our place ...
(Note: Wrote this for our monthly in-house publication, The Terrace Talk)
---
Ah, the Social Hour ... it is a time for wine, not whine.
From its humble beginnings (hint: Mr. Harmonica Man) to a sometimes overflow, standing-room-only Longhorn Auditorium, the Social Hour is now a Thursday afternoon happening at Trinity Terrace.
---
Ah, the Social Hour ... it is a time for wine, not whine.
From its humble beginnings (hint: Mr. Harmonica Man) to a sometimes overflow, standing-room-only Longhorn Auditorium, the Social Hour is now a Thursday afternoon happening at Trinity Terrace.
It has become perhaps the most popular weekly gathering for our residents. Starting at 4 p.m., it is indeed a happy hour (give or take a few minutes).
The food/fruit platters provided are a nice treat -- thanks to Dining Services -- and so are the punch, the wine and even the water. Oh, and by the way, the BYOB aspect is very much a part of it (as if you didn't know).
The food/fruit platters provided are a nice treat -- thanks to Dining Services -- and so are the punch, the wine and even the water. Oh, and by the way, the BYOB aspect is very much a part of it (as if you didn't know).
 |
| Trinity Terrace's ukulele band/"orchestra" is one of the most popular features of the "Social Hour" on Thursday afternoons. |
This requires planning and "recruiting" by the Social Hour host/emcee, for the past year-and-a-half our "music man," Ken Knight, and before that, Bill Starz (for five years), Charles Kelley (for one) and Bill Gould (for three). It is not an easy task.
Making it more difficult, says Ken, "is having no budget to pay people [to perform or speak]. That severely limits the field."
(Fortunately, Resident Services does have a budget to bring in, on a regular basis, musical acts, book reviewers, speakers, etc., to enhance what the Social Hour also provides.)
What pleases Ken -- who billed himself as "chief procurer of talent" in a recent Social Hour committee report -- is "the satisfaction of enriching people's artistic lives," and, he adds with a smile, "the continuing adulation I receive [for the host role]. It is nice to feel appreciated. People are constantly telling me I'm doing a nice job."
Bill Starz and Bill Gould know that feeling. Because many of the roots of the Social Hour belong to them.
---
Bill Starz inspired the beginning, organized the group -- and brought along his harmonica.
Shortly after he and Janice moved to Trinity Terrace in August 2008, he noticed that the events schedule included meetings of the "Sundowners."
That was a group of about 10 -- mostly women -- and trailer park-inspired name came from the premise that it is 5 p.m. somewhere, time for a drink. They met maybe twice a month on Thursday afternoons in what was then "the river room" (where the TT library is now), and they brought cheese, crackers and a bottle of wine or two.
"Mind if I play a few songs on the harmonica?" Bill asked. "Yeah, fine" he was told. So, he played Moon River and Shenandoah, etc., and "everyone enjoyed it."
He asked, "Any more people with musical talent here?" and got some responses. Soon the group suggested, "Why don't you take this over?" -- and he did.
And here came the "acts" ...
Shortly after he and Janice moved to Trinity Terrace in August 2008, he noticed that the events schedule included meetings of the "Sundowners."
That was a group of about 10 -- mostly women -- and trailer park-inspired name came from the premise that it is 5 p.m. somewhere, time for a drink. They met maybe twice a month on Thursday afternoons in what was then "the river room" (where the TT library is now), and they brought cheese, crackers and a bottle of wine or two.
"Mind if I play a few songs on the harmonica?" Bill asked. "Yeah, fine" he was told. So, he played Moon River and Shenandoah, etc., and "everyone enjoyed it."
He asked, "Any more people with musical talent here?" and got some responses. Soon the group suggested, "Why don't you take this over?" -- and he did.
And here came the "acts" ...
Martha Taylor was one of the organizers of the previous group and as much a part of the Social Hour beginning as Bill. And she was an early performer, a piano ragtime sensation even at age 90 then who -- as Bill noted -- "played by ear." A few weeks ago at almost 101 years young she proved at a Longhorn Auditorium party that she still can do a full dance (with Sherman Lawson).
One of the early popular acts was Millie Miller, a resident who played piano for funerals -- "religious songs not appropriate for Social Hour," said Bill -- but entertained here with Gershwin's Rhapsody in Blue.
Waldo Rios, a registered nurse who worked at Trinity Terrace (and moved on to work primarily with the Hispanic community, was a violinist and performed at Social Hour many times, along with his brothers, one on piano, the other on bass. Their "Tonic Trio," said Bill Starz, played at the Bush White House and the Kennedy Center, and Waldo had studied music at the New England Conservatory in Boston.
Millie and Waldo teamed up for one Social Hour, and Bill tried to accompany them with his harmonica. He found that "trying to hold a harmonica note along with a violin and piano, I can't do it. You have to stop to catch your breath."
But most weeks he kept playing -- just as his harmonica-playing father had taught him -- doing Sinatra, Streisand, Broadway and movie tunes.
---
Early on, residents could not move in with walkers, the requirement was a doctor's note that they were able to move unaided for at least two years. But as the TT population grew and aged, that was eased. Other significant changes:
(1) A new name. It was pointed out that sundowners was a reference to the first indication of Alzheimer's Disease, so Bill Starz recalls, "we really couldn't use that name anymore." "Social Hour" was approved by the committee, although not to everyone's liking. The name stuck.
(2) Changes of venue -- first to the newly built Worth Lounge. Soon, with walkers now needed, it got crowded with 20 to 30 people and made it a tenuous setting. So when the City Tower opened 11 years ago, the new Longhorn Auditorium was much more convenient.
(3) For several years, the piano that was used -- in the dining area and for the Social Hour -- was sub-standard. Suggestions for a new piano included purchase of a Steinway, but the newly formed Social Hour committee thought that too expensive. It was Janie Burnett who agreed with Dr. Jimmy Burnett to donate her Yamaha, a much appreciated addition.
And, of course, piano players -- in addition to Martha Taylor -- have been an integral part of Social Hour.
Marketing alerted Bill Starz to a resident talent: Juilliard School-trained pianist LaVerne Whitten. The reaction to her performances: "Oh, wow," said Bill.
Since then, Marjorie Montgomery, Jeanette Keim, classical talent Patrick Sanford and the versatile Ken Knight have followed.
Alina Bercu of Romania, a Cliburn International Piano Competition entry, returned to our city and played here last year, and another, Leonardo Pierdomenico of Italy, is set to play this Thursday (May 2).
Checking available Social Hour records of the past eight years, there are at least 30 residents (some no longer with us) who were the "stars" of the hour, plus several relatives (at least three daughters, one son and daughter-in-law combo, and a sister of a resident).
Many were musical; others were verbal. Some were serious; some were not.
---
After five years, Bill Starz gave up the "host" role.
"Too stressful," he said. "Getting people lined up and then having them cancel" was the biggest problem. "If you got, say, two months ahead [on scheduling], that was like a vacation."
Which is why Ken Knight can be seen pacing the lobby before a Social Hour, waiting for the featured guest to arrive. And why after someone cancelled a couple of months ago, the Star-Telegram's Bud Kennedy made a save on a same-week notice moving up his scheduled appearance.
Bill Gould, in his second week as host, had to deal with a last-day cancellation. His recall: "I said, 'great granny's garters, what am I going to do?' What have I gotten into?"
Martha Taylor to the rescue. "I'll play [piano] for you," she told Bill.
She began "and played the wrong key," Bill recalled, "and it never fazed her. ... And she could tear up [ragtime] on the piano."
Bill's goal was "to work six weeks ahead" on scheduling. It helped that the TT ukulele group began making several appearances every year. And our Goofy Geezers acting troupe take center-stage -- sort of -- a couple of times a year.
Ken Knight stresses that he is appreciative of the help he receives in lining up guest performances.
A few of the past and more recent favorites mentioned by the hosts/emcees:
-- Former resident Gene James, who Bill Gould recalled played piano in his apartment, and also played organ. "[Neighbors] would hear him play, so we invited him to Social Hour three or four times," Bill said. "He was a hit. It rocked people's socks to hear this guy. He was meek and mild, but he banged that piano."
-- Longtime Fort Worth advertising executive/jingles creator Frank Burkett (on ukulele) and his sons -- a bass fiddle player, one on guitar and a psychiatrist who played the mandolin.
-- Melissa Stewart, who shared the wild, weird claims she dealt with in her insurance business, and included the infamous Billy Bob/Saginaw adventure.
One of the early popular acts was Millie Miller, a resident who played piano for funerals -- "religious songs not appropriate for Social Hour," said Bill -- but entertained here with Gershwin's Rhapsody in Blue.
Waldo Rios, a registered nurse who worked at Trinity Terrace (and moved on to work primarily with the Hispanic community, was a violinist and performed at Social Hour many times, along with his brothers, one on piano, the other on bass. Their "Tonic Trio," said Bill Starz, played at the Bush White House and the Kennedy Center, and Waldo had studied music at the New England Conservatory in Boston.
Millie and Waldo teamed up for one Social Hour, and Bill tried to accompany them with his harmonica. He found that "trying to hold a harmonica note along with a violin and piano, I can't do it. You have to stop to catch your breath."
But most weeks he kept playing -- just as his harmonica-playing father had taught him -- doing Sinatra, Streisand, Broadway and movie tunes.
---
Early on, residents could not move in with walkers, the requirement was a doctor's note that they were able to move unaided for at least two years. But as the TT population grew and aged, that was eased. Other significant changes:
(1) A new name. It was pointed out that sundowners was a reference to the first indication of Alzheimer's Disease, so Bill Starz recalls, "we really couldn't use that name anymore." "Social Hour" was approved by the committee, although not to everyone's liking. The name stuck.
(2) Changes of venue -- first to the newly built Worth Lounge. Soon, with walkers now needed, it got crowded with 20 to 30 people and made it a tenuous setting. So when the City Tower opened 11 years ago, the new Longhorn Auditorium was much more convenient.
(3) For several years, the piano that was used -- in the dining area and for the Social Hour -- was sub-standard. Suggestions for a new piano included purchase of a Steinway, but the newly formed Social Hour committee thought that too expensive. It was Janie Burnett who agreed with Dr. Jimmy Burnett to donate her Yamaha, a much appreciated addition.
And, of course, piano players -- in addition to Martha Taylor -- have been an integral part of Social Hour.
Marketing alerted Bill Starz to a resident talent: Juilliard School-trained pianist LaVerne Whitten. The reaction to her performances: "Oh, wow," said Bill.
Since then, Marjorie Montgomery, Jeanette Keim, classical talent Patrick Sanford and the versatile Ken Knight have followed.
Alina Bercu of Romania, a Cliburn International Piano Competition entry, returned to our city and played here last year, and another, Leonardo Pierdomenico of Italy, is set to play this Thursday (May 2).
Checking available Social Hour records of the past eight years, there are at least 30 residents (some no longer with us) who were the "stars" of the hour, plus several relatives (at least three daughters, one son and daughter-in-law combo, and a sister of a resident).
Many were musical; others were verbal. Some were serious; some were not.
---
After five years, Bill Starz gave up the "host" role.
"Too stressful," he said. "Getting people lined up and then having them cancel" was the biggest problem. "If you got, say, two months ahead [on scheduling], that was like a vacation."
Which is why Ken Knight can be seen pacing the lobby before a Social Hour, waiting for the featured guest to arrive. And why after someone cancelled a couple of months ago, the Star-Telegram's Bud Kennedy made a save on a same-week notice moving up his scheduled appearance.
Bill Gould, in his second week as host, had to deal with a last-day cancellation. His recall: "I said, 'great granny's garters, what am I going to do?' What have I gotten into?"
Martha Taylor to the rescue. "I'll play [piano] for you," she told Bill.
She began "and played the wrong key," Bill recalled, "and it never fazed her. ... And she could tear up [ragtime] on the piano."
Bill's goal was "to work six weeks ahead" on scheduling. It helped that the TT ukulele group began making several appearances every year. And our Goofy Geezers acting troupe take center-stage -- sort of -- a couple of times a year.
Ken Knight stresses that he is appreciative of the help he receives in lining up guest performances.
A few of the past and more recent favorites mentioned by the hosts/emcees:
-- Former resident Gene James, who Bill Gould recalled played piano in his apartment, and also played organ. "[Neighbors] would hear him play, so we invited him to Social Hour three or four times," Bill said. "He was a hit. It rocked people's socks to hear this guy. He was meek and mild, but he banged that piano."
-- Longtime Fort Worth advertising executive/jingles creator Frank Burkett (on ukulele) and his sons -- a bass fiddle player, one on guitar and a psychiatrist who played the mandolin.
-- Melissa Stewart, who shared the wild, weird claims she dealt with in her insurance business, and included the infamous Billy Bob/Saginaw adventure.
-- Singer Beverly Branch, daughter of Nell and Jim Branch, who Bill Gould said, laughing, "She can belt it out; she doesn't need a microphone.
-- Red-haired Dace Sultanov and her enchanting cello, either as a solo artist or teamed with others.
-- Red-haired Dace Sultanov and her enchanting cello, either as a solo artist or teamed with others.
-- The vocals (including Beatles songs) of Nancy Sumner Froman (daughter of our Sue Sumner ) with her bandmates, husband Greg Froman and Phil Hennen.
They were early "recruits" by Bill Gould, who said, "Who knew how that would go? They were really a spark, being so young and perky."
Trinity Terrace staffers who have performed include house painter Arjan Golemi, who sang Greek songs, and Bobby Davis, director of facility services, on guitar.
In the early Social Hour days -- still in the Worth Lounge -- there was Alex Smith -- the happy, friendly and hard-working veteran of our maintenance crew. He sang a number of Al Green songs, and recalls, "That was back when I had some vocals. My voice isn't as good anymore."
In the early Social Hour days -- still in the Worth Lounge -- there was Alex Smith -- the happy, friendly and hard-working veteran of our maintenance crew. He sang a number of Al Green songs, and recalls, "That was back when I had some vocals. My voice isn't as good anymore."
Smiling, he added, "I felt like I did a good job. But maybe they [the resident audience] might have just been drunk. They were drinking, that's for sure."
Right. The setting has changed, but some things haven't.
---
Ken Knight was attending Social Hour, and performing, before he and Richard Morehead became residents, and Ken taking over as host/emcee "raised the whole level of performances," says Bill Starz, "because he's the first [music] professional to do this. He has so many contacts in the music field, in town, at TCU." And with his musical talents, he also has been a performer -- at times to fill in some waiting time.
---
Ken Knight was attending Social Hour, and performing, before he and Richard Morehead became residents, and Ken taking over as host/emcee "raised the whole level of performances," says Bill Starz, "because he's the first [music] professional to do this. He has so many contacts in the music field, in town, at TCU." And with his musical talents, he also has been a performer -- at times to fill in some waiting time.
Audience sizes, says Ken, have steadily increased since he took over the role in December 2017, often topping 100 (Joe Armstrong has been responsible for doing the head count). No question that one person's talk filled up the room.
Not long after he became a TT resident, New York Yankees star/American League president/longtime Fort Worth cardiologist Dr. Bobby Brown entertained for more than an hour, spinning his stories like pitchers' best curveballs. The "count" for that audience was 174, SRO.
Quite a jump from when "50 or 60 people was quite a crowd," said Bill Starz.
There are -- and always have been -- rules against off-color jokes or stories (no bodily function mentions), and against promoting "outside" performances and book sales. But, well, some rules are bent because we are thankful for the visitors' cooperation.
We are thankful, period, for what the Social Hour gives us each week. It is a happy hour, a good time.
"One purpose is for people to sit and visit, get to know each other and talk," said Bill Gould. "The way it has developed is super good. ... To get people to here to come out of the woods and socialize, that's the idea."
"It's good for a program started by an amateur harmonica player," said Bill Starz.
---
Current residents who have been featured in the Social Hour program:
Bill Starz, Martha Taylor, Ken Knight, Bill Gould, Eddie Whitten, LaVerne Whitten, Marjorie Montgomery, Louise Underwood, Tommie Sandstrom, Judy Norman, Maxine Kruse, Floyd Kinser, Marvin Bahnman, Melissa Stewart, Fran Stuart, Wilma Jean Tade, Joe Armstrong, Connie Pannell, Glenn Pannell, Dr. Jim Alexander, Don and Edith Martin, Patrick Sanford, Dr. Bobby Brown, Dan Baker, Hank Fitzhugh, Nico Van Thyn, Pat Richardson.
Former residents: Millie Miller, Gene James, Dr. Bill Craig, Joe LeGault.
Family of residents: Nancy Sumner Froman (daughter of Sue Sumner) and husband Gregg Froman, Paula Brower (daughter of Joyce and Robert Brower), Jim and Melanie Cleveland (son and daughter-in-law of Betty and Fred Cleveland), Beverly Branch (daughter of Nell and Jim Branch), Jodie Utter (daughter of JoAn Bates), Dian McCall (sister of Bill Gould) (and yes it is spelled Dian).
Friday, April 12, 2019
Mr. Miller was a class act, in many ways
Watch this video and you are likely to be awed by it, as many of us were when it played at the start of Ralph Waymon Miller's memorial service Thursday: https://vimeo.com/242403680
A clue, two words: Iwo Jima.
He was there in the Far East when he saw the U.S. Marines raise the American flag on Mount Suribachi (or Pork Chop Hill), as the island was taken back from the Japanese near the end of World War II, a scene immortalized in photo and statue.
He was 22 that day -- Feb. 23, 1945 -- as a sailor watching from the deck of a U.S. Navy carrier. As he mentions in the video, he had joined the service the day after Pearl Harbor.
We lost one of "the greatest generation" last Sunday morning here at our seniors resident facility, a kind old gentleman most of us addressed as "Mr. Miller."
Mr. Miller was 96, and his life was full of family, faith and service. As a career-long educator in Fort Worth (1947 to 1983), he is best known and remembered for a decade-and-a-half as the principal of R.L. Paschal High School -- one of our city's "old" schools, the one closest to TCU.
Mr. Miller lived in Fort Worth for 72 years, 66 of them with his beloved Evelyn, and the last 19 at Trinity Terrace -- eight of those somewhat lonely without her.
A clue, two words: Iwo Jima.
He was there in the Far East when he saw the U.S. Marines raise the American flag on Mount Suribachi (or Pork Chop Hill), as the island was taken back from the Japanese near the end of World War II, a scene immortalized in photo and statue.He was 22 that day -- Feb. 23, 1945 -- as a sailor watching from the deck of a U.S. Navy carrier. As he mentions in the video, he had joined the service the day after Pearl Harbor.
We lost one of "the greatest generation" last Sunday morning here at our seniors resident facility, a kind old gentleman most of us addressed as "Mr. Miller."
He was quite a man, with a quite a story.
"It's one thing to read about events in a history book; it's another to hear it from someone who was there," said his grandson Mark Miller at his eloquent speech in the Thursday memorial.
"It's one thing to read about events in a history book; it's another to hear it from someone who was there," said his grandson Mark Miller at his eloquent speech in the Thursday memorial.
Mr. Miller was 96, and his life was full of family, faith and service. As a career-long educator in Fort Worth (1947 to 1983), he is best known and remembered for a decade-and-a-half as the principal of R.L. Paschal High School -- one of our city's "old" schools, the one closest to TCU.
He was highly regarded, respected. Significantly, at Paschal, one of the most-used facilities is the Ralph Miller Auditorium.
He was as much beloved there, as he is/was at Trinity Terrace, our place.
"He was special, he was a treasure," said Tricia Baldwin, Trinity Terrace chaplain and official at the memorial service.
---"He was special, he was a treasure," said Tricia Baldwin, Trinity Terrace chaplain and official at the memorial service.
Mr. Miller lived in Fort Worth for 72 years, 66 of them with his beloved Evelyn, and the last 19 at Trinity Terrace -- eight of those somewhat lonely without her.
But our community embraces each other, and Mr. Miller, for a time, was comforted by a grief-counseling group. And he certainly was always welcomed as he made his way around, slowly but steadily using his walker.
A couple of days last summer, however, I was somewhat surprised to see Mr. Miller away from our facility, especially when he drove his car past as I was on a walk. Another day, we were in a Montgomery Plaza store when Mr. Miller drove up as we were leaving.
And his daughter, Beverly Lewis, said that he also took that car on the interstate for a few trips. Age did not deter Mr. Miller.
With our aging population, death is an everyday reality here at Trinity Terrace, and with a dozen deaths in the past five weeks, it has been an especially tough time.
Just last week we had a lovely memorial service for Miss Peggy Turner, a strong-willed, generous middle-school librarian and bookstore owner with whom I had a couple of nice visits.
Earlier in the month, on consecutive days, we lost Bill Kennedy and Jerry Hendrix, two fine, accomplished gentlemen. Cancer.
He lived on the 16th floor of our Terrace Tower -- the original Trinity Terrace building -- just to the right as you stepped off the elevators. An easy-to-spot apartment because it is on the path to the fine-dining restaurant.
A few weeks ago, as his health and mobility declined, he was moved to a room in our second-floor rehab area. But Beverly -- who had studied in Israel and lived in Jordan for the past 14 years, but came to stay in Fort Worth to care for her dad, sharing duties with his daughter-in-law Vicki Johnson -- brought him around, especially for meals, almost daily. He was not eating much, Beverly said.
Last Saturday, they spent the greater part of an hour in our Bistro, chatting with another resident, and I went over to say hello. Beverly's shake of her head indicated to me it was not going well.
On Sunday morning, they again came to the Bistro for breakfast. When they returned to Mr. Miller's room, he lost consciousness. Medical personnel summoned discussed resuscitation, but Beverly said -- and found the written proof -- that it wasn't Mr. Miller's desire.
"He was ready to be with Mom," Beverly said. "He has missed her terribly all these years."
"Anytime he talked about her, he had tears in his eyes," a friend at the memorial told his grandson. "He was so devoted to her."
As he neared the end, his outlook remained positive. He told Tricia Baldwin: "If God heals me, I win; if God takes me home, I win."
Three weeks ago, Tricia was visiting with the second-floor residents and asked if they had a favorite hymn. "Mr. Miller raised his hand," the chaplain said, "and said, Love Lifted Me."
That was the first hymn of his memorial service, audience participation.
"We sang it today," Tricia said, "by special request."
When Tricia, visiting Mr. Miller in recent weeks, asked him for his favorite Bible passages, he answered with eight yellowed notebook pages full of them.
Ralph and Evelyn's deep devotion was part of their everyday life. Their prayers carried through to their children (Beverly and son Terry), four grandchildren, five great grandchildren and one great great grandchild.
In summers, the grandkids visiting Mr. and Mrs. Miller, Mark Miller recalled, "They included us in their morning and evening Bible reading and prayer time, a continuation of their regular devotional routine, and one they weren't going to put on hold just because the grandkids were there. I heard them pray for me, for my parents, for their pastor, and for friends they knew who were struggling. This was their daily habit, and one my Grandfather maintained after Grandmother's passing."
He was a contributor to the Tinkers' Den wood-working shop, carving ducks, cars and other toys as gifts for children, and finally donating his personal tools to the shop.
And he was one of the best supporters to his Baptist churches, the Trinity Terrace chapel fund, and to the chaplain herself.
---
He was born June 14, 1922, and raised in Grand Saline (Van Zandt County), just off Interstate 20 about 75 miles east of Dallas and 35 miles northwest of Tyler. His father worked in the salt mines south of town; his mother was known for her cooking.
He played high school football in the days without facemasks, and played through a broken nose suffered in a game (it was set afterward).
In the video, he mentions that he enjoyed school and was a good student, and so it was on to North Texas State Teachers College (now University of North Texas) in Denton.
And there, in his freshman year, as mentioned in the memorial service, ice cream changed his life for good one day.
He took a date to the ice-cream shop, but it was a cute girl at the next table -- there with her date -- who caught his eye. Ralph walked over and asked if he could have a bite of her ice cream. (Quite an opening.)
He got much more -- a life partner.
The next Sunday he asked Evelyn Harden to go to church with him. They soon talked of marriage, but Pearl Harbor and then World War II and Navy service intervened.
Four years later, given a leave by the Navy, he was in Long Beach, Calif., called Evelyn and then sent money to her father so that he could send Evelyn to Long Beach. Good deal.
They married out there -- before a Justice of Peace and a stranger passing by asked to be a witness -- soon learned that the war was over, and they came home to North Texas.
They graduated from UNT and applied for jobs with the Fort Worth Independent School District. "I only applied for one job in my whole life," he would tell people because, as noted in the memorial service, he was promoted from job to job.
His teaching career began at William James Junior High; she also taught (for 25 years) at the middle school level.
His principal, seeing his potential as an educational leader, urged him to puruse a master's degree (at UNT) and he became an administrator -- vice-principal, principal, for a time assistant director of secondary education.
He was a vice-principal at two schools and a principal at three. The Paschal years were memorable.
---
There were two-dozen-plus tributes to Mr. Miller on his Star-Telegram obit and a Paschal-related Facebook page. FWISD officials knew that whatever school he oversaw was going to be organized and disciplined.
One comment posted by Susan Erline White referenced a memorable happening at Paschal that also was related at the memorial service:
The day Mr. Miller chased, caught and pinned down a streaker who had "invaded" the school and run through the hallways. He grabbed him in a parking lot, covered him with a blanket he had obtained in the school nursing room and held him until police arrived.
Another story: Two kids -- reportedly from rival Arlington Heights High -- thought it would be funny to turn loose a greased baby pig in the Paschal hallways. This time Mr. Miller again gave chase, but it was too slick a grab and he finally employed the school's coaching staff to make the capture.
Mr. Miller was known for his motivational weekly address to the school football team, in the foyer near his office.
Bob Vela (Class of '75): "I remember he would come around and asked our hands every Friday morning before the game that night. He was inspirational. ...
"He's one of those people you always looked forward to seeing. He always had an uncanny way of making me laugh with the Friday morning pep talk. He was a 'class act,' always seemed to have a word of encouragement for kids."
Talma Stancil, a Hurst resident: "Thank you, Mr. Miller, always will remember you knowing our names and treating me as a person, not a number."
It was Jan Johnson Rand who re-posted the original post by Lynn Andrews Swihart of Mr. Miller's WW II video that was part of the "Make Something Beautiful" project by Warren Cook.
And Carol Scurlock Montague, whose mother Sue lives at Trinity Terrace, attended the memorial service and posted a copy of the program handout.
---
Mark Miller, son of Vicki and Terry Miller (who died in 2012), much resembles the young sailor of World War II.
"Granddad was one of so many who put service to a greater cause over self," Mark said, "and as his grandson, I was blessed to witness his example up close."
They had frequent Saturday lunch outings, drives around Fort Worth with Mr. Miller telling stories and pointing out sites of his and Evelyn's lives and careers, and a memorable trip back to Grand Saline a few years ago.
"It felt like a scene from a Norman Rockwell painting," Mark recalled, "a simpler time when neighbors knew and cared for each other, where homes were warm, relationships were lasting, and loyalty was valued. These were the values that would shape him for a lifetime.
"Grandad told me stories of a life, a marriage and a career well done. He modeled Godly wisdom ..." And Mark then read a passage from his grandfather's Bible.
"My Grandfather's life was marked by instruction, from his career in public education to lessons shared with family and friends," Mark said. "He demonstrated, through both word and action, commitment to Christ, a strong work ethic, wise money management -- my, how he could stretch a dollar -- and loyalty to God, family and country. My own commitments were shaped by watching him.
"Grandad didn't just talk about wisdom, he lived it. Through the years, I've met students and teachers who knew Mr. Miller, and they described him as a man of faith, distinction and commitment to the right path. As his grandson, I saw him live those things at home.
"He knew no hypocrisy or duplicity. He kept his word and did what he said he would do."
A couple of days last summer, however, I was somewhat surprised to see Mr. Miller away from our facility, especially when he drove his car past as I was on a walk. Another day, we were in a Montgomery Plaza store when Mr. Miller drove up as we were leaving.
And his daughter, Beverly Lewis, said that he also took that car on the interstate for a few trips. Age did not deter Mr. Miller.
With our aging population, death is an everyday reality here at Trinity Terrace, and with a dozen deaths in the past five weeks, it has been an especially tough time.
Just last week we had a lovely memorial service for Miss Peggy Turner, a strong-willed, generous middle-school librarian and bookstore owner with whom I had a couple of nice visits.
Earlier in the month, on consecutive days, we lost Bill Kennedy and Jerry Hendrix, two fine, accomplished gentlemen. Cancer.
We had been here several months before I learned that Mr. Miller had been the principal at Paschal High, a school where for about seven years I walked the parking lots almost every weekend. Consider it my "home" school here, so to know that Mr. Miller was the guiding force at the place for a long time led to a conversation or two about it.
He told me that one of his top achievements was to have a street constructed leading into the school, where access had been limited to only one way in. He went to the Fort Worth City Council to express the need for more access -- and it complied, and had the road added, on the back side of the school.
(More on his working life, and Paschal, in a moment.)
---
Only a day or two before Mr. Miller's passing, daughter Beverly bought the only two wild blueberry muffins on the Country Store shelves that day for her dad. He ate one, and one went to his second-floor roommate.He told me that one of his top achievements was to have a street constructed leading into the school, where access had been limited to only one way in. He went to the Fort Worth City Council to express the need for more access -- and it complied, and had the road added, on the back side of the school.
(More on his working life, and Paschal, in a moment.)
---
When you saw Mr. Miller, most days he wore a ballcap to cover his bald head. So at the memorial Thursday, on display with several photos were some of his ballcaps -- Texas Rangers, a couple of with GOB (Good Old Boys) logos, a white (University of) North Texas one, one with a 3:16 inscription. But I most liked one of his favorites, a gray/brown one with an Old English "R" for Rice University.
Those of us working in our Country Store knew he would come in almost daily and purchase a wild blueberry muffin for $1. Only blueberry, no other kind. On days it was not available, Mr. Miller might shake his head and sometimes softly voice his dismay.
Those of us working in our Country Store knew he would come in almost daily and purchase a wild blueberry muffin for $1. Only blueberry, no other kind. On days it was not available, Mr. Miller might shake his head and sometimes softly voice his dismay.
He lived on the 16th floor of our Terrace Tower -- the original Trinity Terrace building -- just to the right as you stepped off the elevators. An easy-to-spot apartment because it is on the path to the fine-dining restaurant.
A few weeks ago, as his health and mobility declined, he was moved to a room in our second-floor rehab area. But Beverly -- who had studied in Israel and lived in Jordan for the past 14 years, but came to stay in Fort Worth to care for her dad, sharing duties with his daughter-in-law Vicki Johnson -- brought him around, especially for meals, almost daily. He was not eating much, Beverly said.
Last Saturday, they spent the greater part of an hour in our Bistro, chatting with another resident, and I went over to say hello. Beverly's shake of her head indicated to me it was not going well.
On Sunday morning, they again came to the Bistro for breakfast. When they returned to Mr. Miller's room, he lost consciousness. Medical personnel summoned discussed resuscitation, but Beverly said -- and found the written proof -- that it wasn't Mr. Miller's desire.
"He was ready to be with Mom," Beverly said. "He has missed her terribly all these years."
"Anytime he talked about her, he had tears in his eyes," a friend at the memorial told his grandson. "He was so devoted to her."
As he neared the end, his outlook remained positive. He told Tricia Baldwin: "If God heals me, I win; if God takes me home, I win."
Three weeks ago, Tricia was visiting with the second-floor residents and asked if they had a favorite hymn. "Mr. Miller raised his hand," the chaplain said, "and said, Love Lifted Me."
That was the first hymn of his memorial service, audience participation.
"We sang it today," Tricia said, "by special request."
When Tricia, visiting Mr. Miller in recent weeks, asked him for his favorite Bible passages, he answered with eight yellowed notebook pages full of them.
Ralph and Evelyn's deep devotion was part of their everyday life. Their prayers carried through to their children (Beverly and son Terry), four grandchildren, five great grandchildren and one great great grandchild.
In summers, the grandkids visiting Mr. and Mrs. Miller, Mark Miller recalled, "They included us in their morning and evening Bible reading and prayer time, a continuation of their regular devotional routine, and one they weren't going to put on hold just because the grandkids were there. I heard them pray for me, for my parents, for their pastor, and for friends they knew who were struggling. This was their daily habit, and one my Grandfather maintained after Grandmother's passing."
Mr. Miller was a church deacon and an elder, and at Trinity Terrace, he and close friend Fritz Meyer took their usual places near the back of the chapel for Sunday afternoon vesper services. Not to be the first ones out at the end of the service, Tricia Baldwin noted, "but to greet everyone else as they left the chapel."
Mr. Miller was a daily visitor to the second-floor health-care and rehab area, staying to the end with Fritz Meyer until his passing last summer.He was a contributor to the Tinkers' Den wood-working shop, carving ducks, cars and other toys as gifts for children, and finally donating his personal tools to the shop.
And he was one of the best supporters to his Baptist churches, the Trinity Terrace chapel fund, and to the chaplain herself.
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He was born June 14, 1922, and raised in Grand Saline (Van Zandt County), just off Interstate 20 about 75 miles east of Dallas and 35 miles northwest of Tyler. His father worked in the salt mines south of town; his mother was known for her cooking.
He played high school football in the days without facemasks, and played through a broken nose suffered in a game (it was set afterward).
In the video, he mentions that he enjoyed school and was a good student, and so it was on to North Texas State Teachers College (now University of North Texas) in Denton.
And there, in his freshman year, as mentioned in the memorial service, ice cream changed his life for good one day.
He took a date to the ice-cream shop, but it was a cute girl at the next table -- there with her date -- who caught his eye. Ralph walked over and asked if he could have a bite of her ice cream. (Quite an opening.) He got much more -- a life partner.
The next Sunday he asked Evelyn Harden to go to church with him. They soon talked of marriage, but Pearl Harbor and then World War II and Navy service intervened.
Four years later, given a leave by the Navy, he was in Long Beach, Calif., called Evelyn and then sent money to her father so that he could send Evelyn to Long Beach. Good deal.
They married out there -- before a Justice of Peace and a stranger passing by asked to be a witness -- soon learned that the war was over, and they came home to North Texas.
They graduated from UNT and applied for jobs with the Fort Worth Independent School District. "I only applied for one job in my whole life," he would tell people because, as noted in the memorial service, he was promoted from job to job.
His teaching career began at William James Junior High; she also taught (for 25 years) at the middle school level.
His principal, seeing his potential as an educational leader, urged him to puruse a master's degree (at UNT) and he became an administrator -- vice-principal, principal, for a time assistant director of secondary education.
He was a vice-principal at two schools and a principal at three. The Paschal years were memorable.
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There were two-dozen-plus tributes to Mr. Miller on his Star-Telegram obit and a Paschal-related Facebook page. FWISD officials knew that whatever school he oversaw was going to be organized and disciplined.
One comment posted by Susan Erline White referenced a memorable happening at Paschal that also was related at the memorial service:
The day Mr. Miller chased, caught and pinned down a streaker who had "invaded" the school and run through the hallways. He grabbed him in a parking lot, covered him with a blanket he had obtained in the school nursing room and held him until police arrived.
Another story: Two kids -- reportedly from rival Arlington Heights High -- thought it would be funny to turn loose a greased baby pig in the Paschal hallways. This time Mr. Miller again gave chase, but it was too slick a grab and he finally employed the school's coaching staff to make the capture.
Mr. Miller was known for his motivational weekly address to the school football team, in the foyer near his office.
Bob Vela (Class of '75): "I remember he would come around and asked our hands every Friday morning before the game that night. He was inspirational. ...
"He's one of those people you always looked forward to seeing. He always had an uncanny way of making me laugh with the Friday morning pep talk. He was a 'class act,' always seemed to have a word of encouragement for kids."
Talma Stancil, a Hurst resident: "Thank you, Mr. Miller, always will remember you knowing our names and treating me as a person, not a number."
It was Jan Johnson Rand who re-posted the original post by Lynn Andrews Swihart of Mr. Miller's WW II video that was part of the "Make Something Beautiful" project by Warren Cook.And Carol Scurlock Montague, whose mother Sue lives at Trinity Terrace, attended the memorial service and posted a copy of the program handout.
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Mark Miller, son of Vicki and Terry Miller (who died in 2012), much resembles the young sailor of World War II.
"Granddad was one of so many who put service to a greater cause over self," Mark said, "and as his grandson, I was blessed to witness his example up close."
They had frequent Saturday lunch outings, drives around Fort Worth with Mr. Miller telling stories and pointing out sites of his and Evelyn's lives and careers, and a memorable trip back to Grand Saline a few years ago.
"It felt like a scene from a Norman Rockwell painting," Mark recalled, "a simpler time when neighbors knew and cared for each other, where homes were warm, relationships were lasting, and loyalty was valued. These were the values that would shape him for a lifetime.
"Grandad told me stories of a life, a marriage and a career well done. He modeled Godly wisdom ..." And Mark then read a passage from his grandfather's Bible.
"My Grandfather's life was marked by instruction, from his career in public education to lessons shared with family and friends," Mark said. "He demonstrated, through both word and action, commitment to Christ, a strong work ethic, wise money management -- my, how he could stretch a dollar -- and loyalty to God, family and country. My own commitments were shaped by watching him.
"Grandad didn't just talk about wisdom, he lived it. Through the years, I've met students and teachers who knew Mr. Miller, and they described him as a man of faith, distinction and commitment to the right path. As his grandson, I saw him live those things at home.
"He knew no hypocrisy or duplicity. He kept his word and did what he said he would do."
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