Trip highlights (sort of)

This is one of the many antique shops we visited in Wiscasset, ME. 

It's been more than a month since my last post. During that time, I spent two weeks on my trip east —half of it with Jordie and half of it with Kim. 

On the first half of the trip, Jordie and I drove to Chicago to sightsee and watch a Cubs game. Then we headed toward Baltimore to catch an Orioles game at Camden Yard, which is a super nice field. The game was fun, but it wasn't as awesome as Wrigley Field in Chicago, with all the crazy, screaming fans. 

After our Baltimore and Chicago (mis)adventures (driving in downtown areas pulling the trailer, I might add), we headed to Boston to do the touristy things. LOVED it! But I wish we had had more time.  I definitely want to go back.

Don't ask about our drive through New Jersey and New York City. HIDEOUSLY stressful. By the way, Gov. Christie is a thief. Those New Jersey toll fees are criminal. We paid $50 at one of them!! I don't know why, either, because the state's roads are terrible. Is all that money padding politicians' pockets, instead of going to road maintenance???

Kim and I sat at a little cafe for lunch in Townsend, MA. Lots and lots of little white churches in the Northeast.

Jordie and I had a great time at the awesome Wrigley Field. 

One of many fancy homes in Martha's Vineyard.

Jordie flew back to Amarillo from Boston, because school started in a couple of days for him, and Kim met up with me in Boston. Kim and I began the "girly" and antique portion of the trip with our Boston Harbor (Hahba) cruise and then our drive to West Townsend, MA. 

From Massachusetts, we headed up into Maine so I could shop at all the places I've only seen and heard about. I felt all giddy and like a kid in a candy store the whole time. Poor Kim. She's not into my kind of early American antiques. But she was a trooper anyway. 

This is the red-painted hutch table and yellow Samuel Gragg elastic back Windsor chairs I picked up in Massachusetts. 

We ate lobster rolls, and I don't even like lobster. These surprised me so much that I ate them at two different places. We saw so many beautiful homes and landscapes, I didn't want to come home. I wanted, instead, to tell Dorsey to pack up and move us to Maine. He would never, of course. 

I guess I'll just make another trip or two in my lifetime ...

After spending two nights in Portland, ME., which I really enjoyed and could have spent more time, Kim and I headed to Falmouth, MA., where we took the ferry across to Martha's Vineyard. We spent a day sightseeing MV,  and then it was time to head back home ... for two-and-a-half days.

The overall trip was great. I enjoyed everything we did, but I could have spent so much more time at each place. I felt disappointment at leaving each destination — except Baltimore. Baltimore scared the crap out of me. I learned, too, to avoid busy cities when pulling a trailer. Way too scary. I mean, really really scary. 

I also learned I need to learn to back up the trailer, even though I don't like it. To me, the best way to back up a trailer is to not have to. 

I found, too, that I can do just about anything scary (i.e., out of my comfort zone) I make myself ... I drove almost 5,000 miles. Just me. I didn't let Jordie or Kim help. (Audio books are the best.) 

Kim and I headed home by way of the southern states until we got to Flower Mound, where I dropped Kim off, spent the night and headed home. 

I missed my family and my zoo!  

Allie was so clingy when I got home. 

Max has sat in the water bowl since he was little. I don't think he realizes he's getting too big.

Emma's all snuggled up to Indy.

These three pups love one another.

It's been nice to be home — although I'm already thinking about the next trip east, next summer! It was that impressive to me.

I'll write a new post in a couple of days about what's been happening since that trip ... like painting projects and an antique show.  And Mama Kitty. 

More pics, too. 

One year is just around the corner ...

Since my parents died close to a year ago now, I sometimes feel like all I am is a downer when it comes to discussing this whole grief ordeal. Yes, there have been some really great times during the past year ... got to go to Sandpoint, ID, and to Curacao, and I started my Tin Cats Antiques business.

All of that has been great, and the business has been the perfect distraction from my emotional reality.

But, honestly, since about Thanksgiving or a little before, I have struggled. I got a little break from constant sadness when getting ready for Round Top, and then during Round Top ... but then a man from Santa Fe visited with us for a long time at our booth ... and the man looked like my dad in the eyes. I swear we could have been talking to my dad! 

After that, I had difficulty concentrating, especially during the last two days of the show when it was so slow, and because I was sooooo drained. I hadn't had much time to myself, so I felt pretty crowded and overwhelmed.

For a week after Round Top, my days were a flurry and a mess. I had to get my financial stuff straight, figure out where to store furniture our house can't handle, and get some much-needed things done around the house.

Everything is in order now. Dorsey started his new job TODAY! (We've known about it since the day we left for Round Top — thank you, Jesus.) Finances are in order. Taxes are filed. The garage is fixed and painted (Dorsey did it), insurance policies have changed, health insurance is taken care of, pets are all good, the inside of the house is all painted and caught up, the trailer for hauling antiques is bought, Jordie is having a phenomenal baseball season and I'm getting to go to all the games ... 

And here we are. Almost all caught up. 

Mom and Dad with Jordie in May of 2013. Yes, we knew Dad had cancer, and yes, Mom had just had a "small" stroke. Still ... all was well. 

So today, with Dorsey away on his first day on the job (in Tampa — we stay in Amarillo), my parents' deaths hit me like a hurricane, reminding me that distractions only work for a little while. Only a little while. There is no escape from grief. None.

So what happened today to set me off? My usual walk with Indy when I tell God I'm all messed up and confused and disordered, and I don't know where to turn or what to do. And then Jordie texted me that he will be pitching on Friday — his 21st birthday. — and my first thought is, "I need to call Dad!" 

Whoops.

Dammit! (No, Jordie, it's not your fault. It's life.)

And here I am again. 

I know this grief thing is forever. 

I know it is. I will never NOT miss my parents. I will never stop wanting to see them again. I will never stop hoping for the evasive visit from the heavens ... 

But I'm truly counting on the words of my friends before me who say that someday, the memories and thoughts will be more pleasant than painful.

I  need that to be true. 

It's only been almost a year ... I don't think I can last another 30-40 years otherwise ... 

Lord, have mercy.

Baptism by fire

Stuff EVERYWHERE! The cats are totally bent out of shape.

Here we go, folks! Dorsey recently posted on the Wilmarth's Tin Cats web site that everything is about to get real ... his perspective.

Of course I get my two-cents worth.

I've been told by fellow dealers I'm getting to know that I'm nuts for debuting our business at a show like Round Top. It is, after all, HUUUUGE! And a big deal. And respected.

And lasts for six days instead of the usual two to three!

Here it all goes, then. Call me brave, call me stupid. It's happening.

I'm totally stoked about this late 1700s hutch table from New Hampshire. If it doesn't sell in Round Top, well, darn, I guess I just get to live with it for a while. :-)

I have spent the last several months plotting and planning my merchandise. I have had all of my "smalls," as we call them in the business, and quite a few furniture items, but my main pieces, the ones I've been extremely excited about, finally arrived after a touch-and-go, nerve-wracking few weeks of truck driver serious illness, bad Louisiana flooding and broken trailer parts. Still ... it's all good now. Besides, what would life be without drama ... always some drama.

I love the grain-painted mustard dry sink (top left). The top right shows a celery painted hanging cupboard.
The green-painted basket and tall wall cupboard came from my new friend in Sedona.

Arizona finds. They all came from New England, of course, but I found them in AZ.

And I found a few bonus items on an unexpected trip just the previous week when I traveled to Arizona to see Jordie pitch in a Tucson baseball tournament. Who would have thought? After all, my stuff is early American, mostly country antiques. Arizona wasn't even founded until 1912 ...

During the first week of March, I set out to get everything on my checklist for my booth and the trip ... much of what was learned after we visited the Round Top Winter Show in January, and from my mother-in-law's vast experience.  My new dealer friends have given their input, too.  Wall paper, tool kit, lights, packing stuff, hooks, nails, screws, signs, bags, various tapes, tax registration info, receipt book, pens, money, tape measure, step ladder, rug ... and all kinds of things I would never think of on my own.

This past week has found me battling a migraine (thank you, West Texas wind) while enduring my torn up house and packing for the show. (Not to mention Dorsey was gone a day or two for job interviews ... still working on that.)

Two kitties think they should go, too.
Socks is guarding all the tools and other important things.

Oh, and then there's the whole planning-what-am-I-going-to-wear-for-six-days-straight? To me, that's the worst part.  I hate packing. Really, really, really hate it. What if I forget something important, like the hanging clothes that aren't packed in my suitcase? Which black sandals do I take? The strappy ones or the wedges? Or both? Both pairs of boots or one? Will this top look OK with that skirt? What about these jeans? Boot-cut or narrow? How about a couple of each? Ugh!

Dorsey picks up the U-Haul trailer in the morning, and we load, with the help of a friend. That's when we run through the checklist one more time and then hit the road. I'm glad to have Dorsey with me this time. That trip to Arizona (and back pulling a trailer) by myself was quite a drive and an adventure!

We'll spend the night with Kim and Vince tomorrow night in Flower Mound and then head on to Round Top Saturday for set up. The show starts Monday. (I still think it's strange this is all happening Easter weekend ...)

And meanwhile, our friend Carmen will be holding down our fort and taking care of our crazy herd.

What a strange new world this is!

Everything but the grief

The garage sale at our house to let go of more of our parents' things went well. I'm still shocked by the amount left over.

So I will say it again: Every year, I'm going through our things and ridding us of whatever we don't use or enjoy anymore.  I told that to anyone and everyone at the garage sale who would listen.

I decided to keep a few more of my parents' things ... chairs that go so well in our living room (so we sold a love seat), some small fiesta dishes and a little dish "thingy" my mom bought years ago from the ABC Catalog. That bowl set is symbolic of the many, many, many Mexican Pile-on dinners we had at my parents' house. It just has to stay in the family and carry on with its beloved duties, I guess.

Today we boxed up and delivered the rest of the things to Downtown Women's Center.

It's over. That's over. (I hate garage sales, and people sometimes simply make me go ... "hmmm.")

Kim and I accepted an offer on my parents' house. It appears that if all goes as planned, that will be over in mid March. I cried when accepting the offer. I only want the house to go to people who will love it and take care of it. My parents poured themselves into it; it was the first and only home they ever owned. That backyard was their pride and joy.

Then it's over. Really over.

Everything but the grief.

Truly, I can't believe it's almost been a year since Mom and Dad died. It feels like yesterday. I cry sometimes like it was yesterday. I cry every time I take Indy for a walk, so lately, that's been about 5 days a week.

And if you're tired of hearing about it, sorry. I'm tired of living it.  What I am learning from others who have been through this is that the pain never goes away ... no matter how old you are or how old your parents were when they died. Instead, you somehow just move on to living life without them in it.  Woo - effing - hoo.

Whatever. I'm so not in the mood for grief.

*****

Dorsey is still job-searching. It's been a month since he got laid off, and he's worked hard every day in his quest for something new. He's treated the job search like a job. Thankfully, he has a few irons in the fire, which keeps us hopeful and emotionally able to keep going. Of course, we hope something works out soon; it's quite scary to be in this position. I try not to think about a time when no fish are biting, and he's just casting his resume into the big black hole, as he calls it.

Not knowing whether we're staying in Amarillo or moving somewhere else is unnerving to me. I don't know why. I just don't care much for uncertainty. There was a time not long ago when I was adamantly opposed to moving because we were just getting to the point where I could do things to the house I would love. Our home is perfectly designed to house early American antiques, some of which are quite primitive looking. (Plus, I've always thought about how much crap — after 14 years of living here — we would have to sort through, which seems daunting. But I have done a great job of unloading things lately.)

Now, while I still think about those things and have determined I might as well still go on with the low-cost home improvements (painting, etc.) ... one, to stay busy and the other, to help resale potential ... I have resigned myself to moving.

In fact, sometimes I enjoy thinking about making a new start in a new place with new people who know absolutely nothing about me. This is popularly known as the "geographical cure," which really doesn't exist, you know. Still, there could be some fun things about it. But if we're going to move, I hope it's closer to Kim and Vince; our family seems awfully small right now. And I hope that someday, Jordie will settle close to us, too. Doesn't much look like Hart will (he's in Maryland), but you never know.

*****

Speaking of Jordie, baseball is going GREAT for him. (School has never been an issue.) He is doing well in his pitching, and old injuries are staying out of the way. His team is doing well, and I have been able to see him play. When he's been on the pitcher's mound, I've pictured his granddad looking down from Heaven's portal, Grandma by his side, and they're cheering him on. I know my dad would be so pleased. Interesting fact: When I've actively watched Jordie in a pitch, imagining my dad watching, Jordie has thrown strikes.

*****

We finally launched our new business! Wilmarth's Tin Cats Antiques. http://www.tincats.com
Yes, please visit the site, shop, refer it to others and help us to carry on. This business has been the key to my moving on at all during the past several months. And, ironically, it has only been possible because of my parents. My mom would be so proud, I know this is true ...

.... time to go wipe my eyes and blow my nose ...

Grief sucks.

Mom and Dad are everywhere

Dad gave Jordie his Tundra last November. 

Jordie and I spent most of yesterday together while he was home for the weekend. The time was special to me because we actually talked quite a bit. We even talked about our grief, and some of the things we have experienced in the past year. (Oct. 16 will mark the beginning of what I truly believe was a traumatic experience for us all.) I also felt like my parents were right there with us, because everything we did and said seemed to circle around, right back to them.

We visited Dale and Connie Blaut at the hospital; it's been two weeks since Dale had a series of heart attacks and then surgery. Hopefully, he will be going home soon (just so he can heal enough to have another surgery in a couple of months). Dad and Dale were tight, tight, tight. If men had BFFs, I would call Dale one of Dad's. They coached, they golfed, they ate foods their wives wouldn't approve of, they drank coffee ... everything. Only God knows what the heck they talked about! And Dale was with Dad almost every day until Dad died. I grew used to seeing Dale in my house every day, as if he were just part of the family. It was the same with Leslie Broadhurst.

I realized when sitting with the Blaut's yesterday that Dad's friends had become family to us. They were always there, both physically and emotionally. I did not know how much I missed those coaching buddies of his — and their wives — until we sat with Dale and Connie yesterday. I loved catching up, and I wanted to hear more. I have really, really missed the Blaut's, the Broadhursts, the Weese's and the Lombards. And yesterday, I saw a post from Ronnie Glenn on Facebook and thought, "Awww, there's Ronnie!" (Facebook has been a great tool for keeping up with people, if only just a little bit.)

Dean Weese celebrated his 80th birthday Saturday with a surprise party. I told Jordie yesterday that I should call Dean and sing him the "Very Merry Unbirthday" song to him, in memory of Dad. Dad's tradition was to call us after our birthdays and sing the song. I loved seeing the pictures of Dean with his family, and his great big smile. I had only seen a very sad and troubled face before.  When the Weese's came to visit us during Dad's illness, one of our caregivers, Barbara, whispered to me, "Mr. Dean is taking this so hard."

Jordie and I had to run to the store yesterday, too. I got some cash and handed it to him. He said, "No! I don't need this!" I told him to take it anyway. He said, "Well, OK. Thanks, Granddad." I told him somebody had to take over! (My dad was notorious for stuffing wads of cash in Jordie's pocket every time he came to visit.)

We talked about Dad's truck and how I've enjoyed driving it, and that I no longer see myself with a BMW instead. I just like the truck. :-)

And I spent a big part of yesterday afternoon hanging out in the yard with Blaze, our newly adopted kitty that my mom adored; Blaze is one of three kitties my parents took care of in their backyard, although one would run off for months at a time, so he almost doesn't count. It was like Mom was there with Blazie and me.

Of course, not all the memories that came back were happy ones, although I'm grateful that now I have the good ones that make me smile and not just cry. I was able to recognize that growth yesterday, too.

When we drove into the BSA parking lot, the same way I always drove in every day for two months after Mom's stroke last year, I felt nauseated. Walking through that hospital, into that elevator, seeing all the healthcare professionals coming in and out of Dale's room, and especially noticing the pullout bed where Connie had been sleeping were enough to send me back to ugliness for awhile. How, other than by God's grace, did we get through that? What a terrible, horrible, awful, traumatic time. There is no other way to describe it.

In spite of that, yesterday was amazing, once again thanks to Jordie and Dad's friends. And I suspect another corner has been rounded in being able to notice and relish the happy times.

Teebox, part 7: "A Lot to Live Up To" & "Golf Partners"

Note: My son, Jordie Henry, is now 20 years old. When he was a junior at Randall High School, he had to write a story similar to the format of "Tuesdays With Morrie," for Mr. Lance's English class. He wrote his story about his granddad, Jim Wilcoxson. 

With Jordie's permission, I am sharing the final two parts of the story. It has been in typing his story that my dam of tears have broken loose. I suppose my grieving must begin. 

Luke 11:9-10 — "So I say to you: Ask and it will be given to you, seek and you will find, knock and the door will be opened to you." 

A Lot to Live Up To

When I tell about the things I've learned from my granddad, it is hard to sum it up in a concise way. However, this will be concise, and I will do my best to hit the important things. 


Three things I have learned are: How to think for myself and make my own decisions, how to understand personal morals, and how my granddad changed his own life. 

Jordie, with Mom and Dad at graduation in May 2013.
My parents are a HUGE reason Jordie has turned into
such a good person.

Usually I talk to Granddad about sports or things that are troubling me, whether it's about school, sports or family. He always answers with good advice and basically tells me that I need to "go with my gut" or to pray about it. If a tough decision arises, I can use one of the many coping skills he's taught me, and I can decide based on what I want to do or what's best for me; not by what others say to persuade me. 


My granddad's morals are based on the concepts of Christianity. Through this, he has become one of the most beloved people of his peers. He is widely respected and known for the way he treats others (although he will deny all of these things, being his humble self). He has taught me some of these things, and most of it, I have not yet caught a grasp of. I'll be lucky if I ever do. But because of his influence, I find myself more caring and sensitive to the things deep down inside of me.


The things he has taught me are things that he's acquired over time. There was a period in his life when he was different, to say the least.  I know from Granddad's story, changing the course of one's life is possible. *See note.

Through the years I've known my granddad, I've never really thought about these things until a few years ago. In my life, I hope to carry on his influence. Like I said, I would be lucky to be half the man he is now when I get to be 67. I believe that to be the truth.


I know it is the truth.

*NOTE: Three or so years ago, I could share details of my granddad's story for a private school assignment. While I know he never shied away from the truth about his past troubles and was always willing to help someone who might need his experience, I never knew him to share his story in a public forum — so I'm not going to do that now. All I know is that through his faith in God and his acceptance of God's grace and forgiveness in his life, he was able to change and move forward in God's will for him. Granddad adopted this biblical truth as a way of life: 

"... but one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and reaching forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus." 

— Philippians 3:13-14

Granddad would say that because God does not play favorites, then if God's grace was good enough for him, it is good enough for the rest of us. All he had to do was accept that grace and move forward — and he did. I admire and respect him for that. 

* * *

"Who can ask more from a man than giving all within his span, giving all seems to me, is not so far from victory." — George Moriarty

Golf Partners

It is the summer before my sophomore year. My granddad is among average age of most of the golfers, and I am younger than most of them, considering that I am in high school. To make up for my youthful presence on the course, I wear presentable golf attire, use my granddad's expensive hand-me-down Ping G2 clubs, and ride in the cart. We travel to the course in a red Toyota Tundra, with a new car smell and the air conditioner blasting. I seek my own approval in playing — but it is my inconsistent play that frustrates me, and because I only play golf in the summer, I am timid.

I finish that summer's worth of golf and come back for another. Granddad is an easy playing partner, always choosing me for his first choice. One day, I remember during a rushed schedule, Granddad quit playing a round of golf all together because I had to leave early.

He begins to call me his "bestest bud" the way kids of the same age address each other in his eyes. He finds humor in it.

"My bestest bud," he says, "Ya know, we can play golf together any time. It's my favorite thing in the whole world. But we don't have to if you don't want to ... Ya know I'm up for it any time."

Sometimes I have other plans. Granddad, to his delight, tries to show up to every event I have. He tells jokes instead of talking, laughs with joyfulness and delivers a little joke with a hint of seriousness; the "bestest bud" joke being a perfect example.

It cracks me up. In all the time spent with him, I realize why everyone enjoys him: He's the nicest person in the world, and he has fun showing it.

***********

Remember this your lifetime through

Tomorrow there will be more to do

With some success made yesterday

Tomorrow you must try once more

And even harder than before.

Teebox, part 6: Simple But Perfect

Note: My son, Jordie Henry, is now 20 years old. When he was a junior at Randall High School, he had to write a story similar to the format of "Tuesdays With Morrie," for Mr. Lance's English class. He wrote his story about his granddad, Jim Wilcoxson. 

With Jordie's permission, I am sharing part six of this story.

Matthew 6:34 — "Therefore, do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own."

Simple But Perfect

Granddad's perfect day is a simple one. He only mentioned four things. I did not expect a list of only four things, but now that I think about it, it makes sense to me. It seems it would be easier to have a simple list on a perfect day. It is perfect because there is not a lot to do. There is no stress, there could be downtime, and you can sit back and relax the day away. You can really soak up your perfect day and enjoy it when you add the simplicity to the equation. 

Dad, Jordie, and Jordie's dad, Dave Henry. This was
the day we moved Jordie into his dorm at Wayland.

The first thing that Granddad mentioned was that he wanted to play 18 holes of golf with me at the La Paloma golf course. I am well aware of the fact that he loves playing golf, and he has always harped on how much he likes playing when I am with him. Sometimes I wonder why this is, because one thing I've regretted most about the subject is my attitude on the golf course. I can be very unpleasant, to put it nicely. But, I know that Granddad enjoys the nature of being outside and playing a game he loves with his grandson. I guess when I become older, I will not take those things for granted either. 

The second and third things he listed go hand in hand with each other. He said that he would like to do good for somebody who needs it, with no expectations or favors in return. He also said that he would like to perform God's service. God's service does include doing good for people who need it.

Lastly, he said that living with God's intentions would complete his perfect day. This means praising God, living through the works of His word, and spreading His word to others. 

One thing he doesn't realize, however, is that he performs these four things on an almost daily basis, especially in the summer. In the summer is when we play golf together, because it is when I have the time to get in a round of golf. He always does good for somebody who needs it by simply putting a smile on many people's faces each and every day. By doing this, he does perform God's service. He also influences many people, including me, with God's word, which is living with God's intentions. 

In a short summary like that, I have explained his daily rituals, and I have described his perfect day, which are pretty much the same two things.

It is simply amazing. 

Next: Part 7: "A Lot to Live up to" 

Teebox, part 5: Working Through His Influence

Note: My son, Jordie Henry, is now 20 years old. When he was a junior at Randall High School, he had to write a story similar to the format of "Tuesdays With Morrie," for Mr. Lance's English class. He wrote his story about his granddad, Jim Wilcoxson. 

With Jordie's permission, I am sharing part five of this story.

Philippians 4:6 — "Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God." 

Working Through His Influence

There are two main accomplishments that my granddad has taught me throughout my lifespan of 16, almost 17, years. The first is the ability to play sports. Being a two-time state champion basketball coach, he got me hooked on basketball from a very early age. The earliest instance I can remember of myself playing basketball was when I was in Childress, in the driveway of my great granddad, Grandaddy Wilcoxson's, house. I was throwing a little rubber ball into a Little Tikes basketball goal, made of plastic. There is even a famous picture of me doing exactly what I just described, although I really do remember it happening.

Granddad coached my club basketball teams all the way until 8th grade, right before high school. He taught me everything I know about the sport. Golf is the same way with him. He taught me how to play golf at a very early age, as well, and he really got me playing on a course at the age of 8. He has taught me that golf is a game of frustration, a game of patience, a game of hard work, and a valuable commodity for life in instances you would never think about, like business.

That red Toyota Tundra now belongs to Jordie.
This is the day granddad gave it to him,
in November.

Just recently, in the summer of 2011, I shot a 79 in Childress, of all places. It was the first time I had ever broken the score of 80 on the golf course, which is a milestone for golfers everywhere. I never would've been able to do it without him. He taught me everything I know about the sport.

The second accomplishment is the greatest. He taught me how to have a relationship with God. Now, before I go any further, I will say that nobody is perfect. I am by no means the perfect example of a Christian. But, I am a Christian, and I do talk to God. I do not care if people who are not Christians know about that. To each his own. 

However, Granddad has taught me a lot about life, and that includes God. He is always giving me advice and tips on life. He never forgets to mention the importance of the Lord in our lives, and how important it is to be involved in His teachings. Faith has gotten me through many struggles in life, especially my sophomore year. I will never forget that.

The extent of these accomplishments will help me through my entire life, for I have already figured that out for myself. 

Teebox, part 4: Cracker Barrel and the Heart-to-Heart

Note: My son, Jordie Henry, is now 20 years old. When he was a junior at Randall High School, he had to write a story similar to the format of "Tuesdays With Morrie," for Mr. Lance's English class. He wrote his story about his granddad, Jim Wilcoxson. 

With Jordie's permission, I am sharing part four of this story.

"Preach the Gospel wherever you go ... and if necessary ... use words!" — St. Francis

I find myself in my granddad's red Toyota Tundra on the way to Cracker Barrel. Accompanying me is my granddad, obviously, and my grandma. It is a normal weekday on a crisp October night in Amarillo, Texas. The sun is setting and it is just barely sitting on the horizon, so it is basically dark outside. I have just been picked up from my mom's house, and I could've driven myself; however, Grandma and Granddad have insisted on chauffeuring me to dinner. They do this to spend more time with me, and I realize this.

On the way, Granddad begins his little small-talk interrogation on the present day. Usually, this is kicked off on the subject of sports, no pun intended. Today was a throwing day in my rehab program (I am recovering from a shoulder injury from baseball) and Granddad begins with questions about how my throwing went, such as the usual, "How'd the throwin' go today?" and "How many sets of throws did you end up doin'?" I reply with the usual, "It was fine," or "It was alright," and I proceed to tell him how many sets I completed.

"So your arms gettin' better, ya think?"

"Yeah, I think so. Had a little accuracy problem today, though."

Granddad chuckles and says, "So your dad had to chase down the balls today, did he?"

"Yeah, but it's because he just can't catch 'em. Well, it's both, actually."

Grandma and Granddad both laugh, and Granddad switches the subject by mentioning about how the "Cowboys found a way to lose." We talk about our distaste for Dallas and overanalyze it just like the talking heads on ESPN. Even Grandma chimes in, "Even I saw that!" and tells her side from watching it on television. Then we talk baseball because it's the middle of the playoffs and my favorite sport just happens to be baseball, so I can't control myself from talking about it. We overanalyze this, too, and our opinions usually agree. Granddad finishes the topic by announcing that "one bad thing about democracy is that the dumb-butts can have a say in whatever." 

As usual, Grandma comes back with a funny aimed at Granddad.

"Now ... by saying that, are you including yourself in the group of dumb-butts?"

The evening goes smoothly at Cracker Barrel. Granddad and I always get the Sunrise Sampler, and the day is settled.

A few days later, Granddad agrees to answer a couple of meaningful questions that I need to ask him.

My first deep question is, "What is your biggest regret in life?" 

I'm 99 percent sure that I know the answer to this; even though I've heard it only once, I have never forgotten it.

Granddad kind of hesitates and struggles to find the words, and he pauses every once in a while. "Well ...ya know ... when I was younger ... I was a workaholic ... whether it was working on the golf course or coaching basketball. I didn't have much free time, so ..." 

He takes a really long time to utter the last part, and it is a tone that is whole-heartedly confessing, "my biggest regret was not spending more time with your Aunt Kim and your mom ... That's my biggest regret."

I wait awhile for him to recover, and even act like I'm still recording what he just said to give him some time to re-gather his thoughts.

My last question is simply, "What is the purpose of life, and why are we on Earth?"

This one is easy for him ... a cakewalk compared to the last one, as he is a man of strong Christian faith. "Well, if you're a Christian, obviously your purpose is to glorify Christ and tell people about the gospel, ya know? That's the main reason we're here."

He leaves it at that, and I do, too.

Next: Working Through His Influence

Teebox, part 3: Oh What a Life!

Note: My son, Jordie Henry, is now 20 years old. When he was a junior at Randall High School, he had to write a story similar to the format of "Tuesdays With Morrie," for Mr. Lance's English class. He wrote his story about his granddad, Jim Wilcoxson. 

With Jordie's permission, I am sharing part three this story.

"Oh, What a Life!"

On Nov. 15, 1944, James Marvin Klostar was born.  James was adopted by Buddy and "Pokey" Wilcoxson, who were residents of Childress. He grew up in Childress while being called "Jim" or "Jimmy." He would go on to graduate as a Childress Bobcat in 1963, being an all-state basketball player and golfer. His senior year in golf, he won a state championship. This would've never happened had Texas Tech alum Don Kaplan not moved to Childress to teach Jim the game of golf, which he instantly found a passion for.

During school, he met Nicki Sooter, whom we would later marry and go to college at Texas Tech University with. He became a Red Raider on a golf scholarship to play on the team, which was, back in the day, the Southwestern Conference. This must have been a dream come true at the time, as he has always said golf was his number one love.

Jim and Nicki had two children, both daughters, who were 4 years apart: Kim, who is now 47, and Jami, who is 43. During their growing up years, Jim behaved in ways he regrets; he's been on a good path for 30 years now.

Jim went on to become the Amarillo Country Club golf course superintendent at an early age. Jim went back to college at the age of 38 to become a basketball coach at the age of 40.

Jim recalls that the only reason he got into coaching was because his oldest daughter, Kim, had nobody to coach her third-grade basketball team. This (coaching), allergy problems from the golf course, and liking coaching in general made him want to continue to coach. 

His coaching career got underway as the volunteer assistant basketball coach for Amarillo College in 1983 under head coach Kelly Chadwick. In 1985, he received his first head coaching position at 1A Booker High School in Booker, Texas, with his youngest daughter, Jami, on the team. After one year, he moved back to Amarillo to become the head coach at Tascosa High School, and coached the Lady Rebel basketball team to its first regional tournament berth in school history. 

His most prominent tenure as a head high school basketball coach began in 1989 at the then young Randall High School, which was only two years into its existence. After three years as head of the Lady Raiders, in 1992, he coached them to a state championship ... the first basketball state title in school history. Later on in 1998, he repeated the state championship win as coach of the Randall Lady Raiders in front of his family, including his grandson (myself) Jordie. In 2004, after 15 years as the head coach, he retired. All in all, he recorded 469 career wins, 139 losses and two state championships. This would earn him a spot in the Randall Raider Hall of Fame and the Panhandle Sports Hall of Fame in 2005 as the 135th member.

Throughout this time period at Randall High School, his daughters each gave birth to one son. Jami, the youngest, gave birth to Jordan Cale Henry in 1995, and Kim, the oldest, gave birth to Cole Thomas Migliaccio in 1999.

Also throughout this time period and some years after, Jim showed his family and friends that he was a fighter and a survivor. He went through bouts of melanoma and recently survived and defeated prostate cancer. After it all, he is still "as healthy as a horse," in his terms.

After his retirement in 2004, Jim took up playing golf again and has only played "on the days that end in Y" since then. A usual group of golfing partners accompanies him on a daily basis, and it seems like he couldn't enjoy life more. In the summers, he enjoys playing golf with me, as well, as it is the only free time for golf that I have outside of school and year-round baseball.

His obsession with golf nowadays leads him to a mass purchase of golf clubs, tools, and a trillion golf hats that he gets his money's worth for. Wherever he can, he stops and makes a golf outing. Usually, it's at one of the hundreds of golf courses in the Dallas-Fort Worth region, or it is at the newly constructed Stoney Ridge Golf Club in Childress.

Still having his old touch, he consistently shoots in the low 70s and occasionally breaks 70 into the high 60s. The golf talent that he owns is almost uncanny, although he refuses to believe it because of his humble personality, always shying away from the compliments for his game.

When he isn't playing golf, he enjoys watching Cole and me play baseball on our respective teams. He also started working out several years ago for three to four days a week at Zach's Club 54. Being a licensed personal trainer, he also helps me with workouts after his own.

Throughout his life, he has always stayed strong in his faith in God, and his personality and influence on everybody shows this. Even now, church attendance and Bible study members include him.

He and his wife, Nicki (my grandmother) are two of the best people in the world, and they have been married for 46 strong, healthy years.

JANUARY 27, 2012: It was officially announced that Jim Wilcoxson will be inducted into the Texas High School Basketball Hall of Fame, along with five other members, in San Antonio, Texas. He will be inducted for his career at Randall High School, including two state titles and a playoff spot in every season he coached, and also for his short tenures at Booker High School and Tascosa High School.

Next: Cracker Barrel and the Heart-to-Heart

Teebox, part 2: "The Physical Nature"

Note: My son, Jordie Henry, is now 20 years old. When he was a junior at Randall High School, he had to write a story similar to the format of "Tuesdays With Morrie," for Mr. Lance's English class. He wrote his story about his granddad, Jim Wilcoxson. 

With Jordie's permission, I am sharing part two of this story.

What I Learned From the Teebox

"The Physical Nature"

It just so happens that my granddad looks like the perfect golfer type. He is not overly built physically, but he does show the body type of a former athlete. At around 5'11" and a "fat man's gut," as he would call it (though he is not anywhere near fat), he shows the effects of a long sports tenure on a body. These effects include a curved pointer finger from being a gym rat and shooting a basketball so much, and overall good health, except for one thing: His leather-like brown skin from spending so many days in the sun as a young man, which deteriorates the protection of his skin. He bruises easily and gets small cancers sporadically. 

His attire consists of mostly two things: golf clothes, which include khaki shorts and collared shirts, and athletic shorts, t-shirts, and caps. He has kept up with the styles, sporting the longer shorts and stretchy fabric that clothes are made of nowadays. Being from Childress, Texas, he has a thick country twang accent that exits from a little gap in the top row of his teeth. This twang is used frequently on the golf course, however. The links are his place to socialize and have fun. Having fun, for my granddad, includes talking to everybody he sees.

On "the days that end in Y," he pulls up to the Tascosa Country Club parking lot in his crimson Toyota Tundra. The country club includes two golf courses: Tascosa and La Paloma, which are separated by one street. On La Paloma, you will be met by rough terrain, rolling hills, thick Texas grasses and vegetation, and narrow fairways. It is most likely the hardest course in the Panhandle, but it is by far mine and Granddad's favorite. Tascosa is La Paloma's fraternal twin. It has many trees, and thin grass. The fees for both courses are very high for guests, which keeps the courses held for its members. The club has a tennis center and a brand new pool with mini soccer fields and a grill accompanying it.

Next: "Oh What A Life!"

What I Learned From the Teebox ... by Jordie Henry

Note: My son, Jordie Henry, is now 20 years old. When he was a junior at Randall High School, he had to write a story similar to the format of "Tuesdays With Morrie," for Mr. Lance's English class. He wrote his story about his granddad, Jim Wilcoxson. 

With Jordie's permission, I am sharing this story, in parts. I think my son is a writer ...

What I Learned From the Teebox

"Sweating Out a Day in Childress, Texas"

It is the late summer of 2011, a humid, unbreathable Saturday morning. We both sit next to each other, side by side, on the white cushion of the golf cart beside the #1 tee. We wear similarly-designed golf attire. We do not have to wait on anybody. When we tee the ball up, we take our backswings, and strike the white ball into the Texas air, seemingly the only golfers on the course in the town of Childress. For both of us, a round of golf has just come underway.

Jordie Henry

On the 18th tee, I see Jim Wilcoxson, my granddad, and he congratulates me joyfully on my first round for shooting under the score of 80. He is not a shy man, for he knows everyone, as if he has connections with anybody he crosses. In his gold-collared shirt and black shorts, he still looks like a natural golfer. He has light-colored blue eyes, thinning gray hair combed across the top of his head, tanned skin, a small gap in his teeth, and a distinct smile. Although his sayings are redundant and his jokes are, too — he thinks of them on his own — when he says them, it the most amusing thing you'll hear all day because it's just plain goofy and original.

People always ask him how he's doing when he is greeted. He replies, "If I had a tail, I'd be waggin' it!" Knowing that was coming, I still smile and wait for the person's delighted reaction. Before we leave, he has to buy a souvenir (usually something for me), a white Stone Ridge Golf Course hat. I wanted to make sure it fit. It was a special occasion. We make this trip together annually.

"Jordie H. Henry, you ready to head back to Amarillo?" he asks, knowing full well my middle name starts with a C (I guess he likes the ring of the "H" sound). Then he pats me on the back. I feel like I've been playfully punched. I'm much taller than he is, but when he pats me on the back, or grabs my back with pro-wrestler-like strength, I feel like he's the bigger one.

He asks if I need "anything to eat, drink, spit, or chew," and without hesitation, I reply with a laugh, "Naw, I'm fine."

When he hears the answer, he simply steps back and laughs.


Next: "The Physical Nature" 

Mothers can be wrong

Jordie

My son, Jordie, is a 19-year-old student at Wayland Baptist University and a freshman pitcher on the baseball team.

I readily admit I never thought I would see the day he was on a college team, much less actually pitching in real games.

Wait, before you tell me I'm horrible for not believing in my son, I must explain.

I've always had faith in Jordie. I did not, however, trust an unconventional route into college baseball. I mean that, to the best of my knowledge, generally only the "star" athletes go on to play college ball — in any sport.

While Jordie has always been great in my eyes, and I've always truly, truly believed he is gifted at pitching, the fact is, his high school baseball career mostly produced disappointment and frustration for him. He faced a nagging elbow injury, and when he was healthy — whether right or wrong — he played "behind" other players.

Plain and simple: This type of play severely limits a kid's chance to get noticed by college recruiters.