Dr. Jackson Clay Kelley will be remembered for his irrepressible good humor – and an abiding affection for his Rotary Club, his adopted hometown of Waxahachie, Texas, and his family.
Honored for logging 49 years perfect attendance at the Waxahachie Rotary Club and as Most Outstanding Member of the Year by the Waxahachie Chamber of Commerce, Kelley, 92, died Thursday morning at home.
Memorial services will be held at 2 p.m. Sunday at First United Methodist Church in Waxahachie, with reception immediately following in the Family Life Center.
Jack Kelley had just retired from his veterinary business on Brookside Road when David McSpadden came to town to construct the Econo-Lodge there a quarter-century ago. Seeing the construction under way, “Jack just walked across the highway and came down to meet me,” he said, recalling the information Kelley shared of the history of the area and the road itself. “He was just being neighborly – that’s just Jack,” McSpadden remembered. “He was a true Texas gentleman in the finest tradition.”
He remembers Kelley a walking library of significant information, “a steel-trap mind” – and untiringly upbeat. “It didn’t matter what the circumstances were, he had good things to say about anybody and everybody. With that as the foundation of his world, Jack got up happy every day,” he said.
A card-carrying member of the Choctaw tribe, Jackson Clay Kelley was born in Soper, Okla. He went to school in Antlers, Okla., before graduating from Beaumont’s French High School in 1933. He put himself through Texas A&M University, graduating in 1937 as a vocational ag teacher. He returned to A&M to get doctor of veterinary medicine degree, finishing in 1945 and moving to Waxahachie with wife Geneva in 1946. He was the first veterinarian in Waxahachie, his son Bill said.
The younger Kelley recalled the love for fishing, hunting and the outdoors Jack Kelley learned from his loving father, Ike Kelley, in rural Oklahoma – and then passed on to his sons.He also remembered his dad’s deep Aggie roots. “He was 100 percent maroon-and-white. In his large animal practice, the stall where the sick cows were unloaded was painted orange. When the cows got well, he would put them in a maroon stall,” Bill said with a chuckle.
Jack Kelley was honored for almost a half-century of perfect attendance at Rotary meetings. He and Geneva traveled all over the world – and when they got where they were going, the Kelleys attended Rotary Club meetings there.Two years ago, at 90, Kelley was the oldest Rotarian on the district conference cruise – his first cruise ever. He invited David McSpadden to go on the cruise with him for company.“That old guy wore me out,” McSpadden recalled with a chuckle. “We walked all over and saw every level, including the captain’s helm. He didn’t miss a thing.”
Former City Manager Bob Sokoll recalled the Paul Harris Fellow as “the Rotarian’s Rotarian – the most dedicated Rotarian I ever met.” McSpadden agreed.“He was dedicated to the prospect that attendance and participation were the key to fellowship – that if you don’t show up, you can’t get to know anybody,” he said.
At Rotary Club last week, the 92-year-old was still showing up. He had to be helped into a rolling swivel desk chair to get to the meeting room because it was too far for his walker.
“That was the kind of indomitable spirit he had,” McSpadden said. “I sat next to him at Rotary last week and we had a great conversation. One of my regrets is that Jack wasn’t looking very good and, when I got back from L.A., I wanted to get together and turn on a tape recorder and let him talk.”Hearing that Kelley had donated his body to science at UT Southwestern Medical School, his Rotary buddy wasn’t surprised. “That’s Jack – giving even beyond the end. That’s him. I’m not surprised whatsoever – he was one of the most generous men I ever met – he just had a generous heart,” he said.
Jack Kelley’s last living son, Bill Kelley, said the avid Rotarian would be remembered for his sense of humor and his devotion to Waxahachie and to his family. As a public service, the Rotary Club put stickers on cars to remind area residents when their license plates had expired. A gentle nod to his humor and his role as the program’s biggest booster, the family plans to put one of the stickers on the display table at Jack Kelley’s memorial service.
Jack and Geneva Kelley were married for 67 years before her passing three years ago. They were members of the East Texas Lakes unit of the Airstream Club and Jack was also an enthusiastic “84” player.
Jack Kelley’s life wasn’t without its griefs. In addition to surviving Geneva, he outlived three of his sons – Pat, Mike and Steve.“About a month after we buried my third brother, we were out riding around and Dad said, ‘God has blessed me so much – He gave me my sons, and I enjoyed them to the fullest,’” Bill Kelley recalled. “That was a tremendous testimony – he was always thankful instead of having pity for himself.”
Waxahachie City Manager Paul Stevens attended First United Methodist Church with Kelley and recalled his friendliness from the first day Stevens’ family started attending the church.“It’s a tremendous loss for Waxahachie. Dr. Kelley was such a nice man and such a strong Christian,” said Stevens.
Bill Kelley agreed. “His faith was very important to him. He had a strong faith, and a lot of it was because of his heritage,” he said. “If there’s a Rotary Club in Heaven, and a fishing and hunting club, and a Wild Bunch – I think my dad’ll be a card-carrying member.”
Monday, June 30, 2008
Gone Squirrelly
So was Sex in the City's Carrie Bradshaw about right when she said squirrels are rats with cuter outfits?
One fellow journalist walking in Union Square (New York City), saw a squirrel drag an entire copy of the NY Times up into his nest. He lost a few sections on the way up but got most of it in there. I'm thinking maybe he was a literate squirrel, a member of the squirrel intelligencia - or maybe he was in it for the crossword.
One day I heard chattering outside my front room window. Poised on the back of the willow rocker on my porch, probably staring at his reflection just two feet away, a fat squirrel. I stared him down, and he fell off clumsily -- ha!That's what peeping Toms get.
My dog chased him into our drained swimming pool that had about a foot of water and a bucket we'd used to finish draining it. He sat on the bucket, dripping, miserable, cursing in squirrel at the top of his tiny lungs, black eyes huge and accusing. We tried to extend every kindness, a ladder, a pool skimmer. Finally, we dangled a stretchy hose and after about a dozen exhausing (but amusing to watch) attempts, he finally scrambled out and ran off screaming about the poor service he'd received at our resort and how he wasn't going to come back.
Problems with squirrels? Might want to check this out:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hRR4bOquEKQ&feature=related
According to National Public Radio, squirrel cuisine is gaining in popularity in (squirrel-ridden) England.No word on if it tastes like chicken, but you might want to check out this fine menu of squirrel recipes that includes Cajun Squirrel, Chicken-Fried Squirrel, Crockpot Squirrel, Easy Squirrel BBQ, Fried Squirrel With Mushroom Gravy, Squirrel Cacciatore, Squirrel Casserole, Squirrels in Cream Sauce, Squirrel Creole, Squirrel Croquettes, Squirrel Kabobs, Squirrel and Noodles and Squirrel Nuggets.http://www.backwoodsbound.com/zsquir.html
And there's always the old-fashioned fix, a nice, soft squirrel coat:http://cgi.ebay.com/Vintage-Russian-Squirrel-Fur-Cape-Wrap-Stole-Coat_W0QQitemZ250245236440QQihZ015QQcategoryZ63862QQssPageNameZWDVWQQrdZ1QQcmdZViewItem
One fellow journalist walking in Union Square (New York City), saw a squirrel drag an entire copy of the NY Times up into his nest. He lost a few sections on the way up but got most of it in there. I'm thinking maybe he was a literate squirrel, a member of the squirrel intelligencia - or maybe he was in it for the crossword.
One day I heard chattering outside my front room window. Poised on the back of the willow rocker on my porch, probably staring at his reflection just two feet away, a fat squirrel. I stared him down, and he fell off clumsily -- ha!That's what peeping Toms get.
My dog chased him into our drained swimming pool that had about a foot of water and a bucket we'd used to finish draining it. He sat on the bucket, dripping, miserable, cursing in squirrel at the top of his tiny lungs, black eyes huge and accusing. We tried to extend every kindness, a ladder, a pool skimmer. Finally, we dangled a stretchy hose and after about a dozen exhausing (but amusing to watch) attempts, he finally scrambled out and ran off screaming about the poor service he'd received at our resort and how he wasn't going to come back.
Problems with squirrels? Might want to check this out:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hRR4bOquEKQ&feature=related
According to National Public Radio, squirrel cuisine is gaining in popularity in (squirrel-ridden) England.No word on if it tastes like chicken, but you might want to check out this fine menu of squirrel recipes that includes Cajun Squirrel, Chicken-Fried Squirrel, Crockpot Squirrel, Easy Squirrel BBQ, Fried Squirrel With Mushroom Gravy, Squirrel Cacciatore, Squirrel Casserole, Squirrels in Cream Sauce, Squirrel Creole, Squirrel Croquettes, Squirrel Kabobs, Squirrel and Noodles and Squirrel Nuggets.http://www.backwoodsbound.com/zsquir.html
And there's always the old-fashioned fix, a nice, soft squirrel coat:http://cgi.ebay.com/Vintage-Russian-Squirrel-Fur-Cape-Wrap-Stole-Coat_W0QQitemZ250245236440QQihZ015QQcategoryZ63862QQssPageNameZWDVWQQrdZ1QQcmdZViewItem
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Hose are dead! Long live legs!
Hose are dead! Long live legs!
Great news in the fashion world, and this time it has trickled down to the real world: That scourge of womanly comfort, pantyhose, are dead. This is not a sad obituary.
It's official: the Wall Street Journal has proclaimed the death of hose. (See obituary here: Here)
Even the most hose-insistent golf-shirt wearing Midwestern exec, Jim Holt, president of Mid American Credit Union, a small financial institution in Wichita, Kan., formerly adamant that his female employees were not fully dressed without hose even under their pants, has conceded the point.
Once again, the revolution was led by the young, just as prior generations raised hemlines, shocked their grandmas by climbing into pants and shrugging out of corsets.
The shoe is on the other foot! And now there isn't any hose in it. The pressure is off to conform, for women who might not ever dream of getting breast implants but still had to pretend their legs were an unnaturally tan shade of plastic.
I do believe hose are dead. Further, I believe they were invented by men -- misogynistic ones at that, perhaps the forebears of the few corporate dinosaurs who still want women to suffer like sausages stuffed into casings.
And to those few guy execs still trying to enforce their nylon standards on the legs of women in the workplace, I propose a new bumpersticker: If you can tell if I'm wearing pantyhose or not, you're staring too close.
If men had to wear pantyhose, they would have been chunked long ago. And no, I don't buy the argument that if men have to wear ties, women should have to wear hose. Joe Exec, if you don't want to wear ties, then you'll have to get your own revolution.
Do I feel sorry for Hanes now their leg-irons have gone the way of the hula hoop? No. It was a conspiracy to keep women trudging (hose-bound) to the store, run after run (so to speak), to feed their addicted lingerie drawers, to kow-tow to a misogynistic society.
Next thing you know, women will realize that high heels can kill.
We'll wake up to the fact that, hello, no one is really fooled by hair coloring -- that everyone knows there's grey under there and we are all, in fact, aging despite our bottled protests to the contrary, and that's okay, and then L'Oreal and Clairol will have to suck it up and find something else to sell to us.
I hear hula hoops and hose companies are for sale cheap...
Hose were predeceased by their mother, Garter Belts. They are survived by their step-siblings, Socks, Bare Feet and Winter Tights.
See an ongoing debate about this on mediabistro.com here: http://mediabistro.com/bbs/cache/t39788_1.asp
Great news in the fashion world, and this time it has trickled down to the real world: That scourge of womanly comfort, pantyhose, are dead. This is not a sad obituary.
It's official: the Wall Street Journal has proclaimed the death of hose. (See obituary here: Here)
Even the most hose-insistent golf-shirt wearing Midwestern exec, Jim Holt, president of Mid American Credit Union, a small financial institution in Wichita, Kan., formerly adamant that his female employees were not fully dressed without hose even under their pants, has conceded the point.
Once again, the revolution was led by the young, just as prior generations raised hemlines, shocked their grandmas by climbing into pants and shrugging out of corsets.
The shoe is on the other foot! And now there isn't any hose in it. The pressure is off to conform, for women who might not ever dream of getting breast implants but still had to pretend their legs were an unnaturally tan shade of plastic.
I do believe hose are dead. Further, I believe they were invented by men -- misogynistic ones at that, perhaps the forebears of the few corporate dinosaurs who still want women to suffer like sausages stuffed into casings.
And to those few guy execs still trying to enforce their nylon standards on the legs of women in the workplace, I propose a new bumpersticker: If you can tell if I'm wearing pantyhose or not, you're staring too close.
If men had to wear pantyhose, they would have been chunked long ago. And no, I don't buy the argument that if men have to wear ties, women should have to wear hose. Joe Exec, if you don't want to wear ties, then you'll have to get your own revolution.
Do I feel sorry for Hanes now their leg-irons have gone the way of the hula hoop? No. It was a conspiracy to keep women trudging (hose-bound) to the store, run after run (so to speak), to feed their addicted lingerie drawers, to kow-tow to a misogynistic society.
Next thing you know, women will realize that high heels can kill.
We'll wake up to the fact that, hello, no one is really fooled by hair coloring -- that everyone knows there's grey under there and we are all, in fact, aging despite our bottled protests to the contrary, and that's okay, and then L'Oreal and Clairol will have to suck it up and find something else to sell to us.
I hear hula hoops and hose companies are for sale cheap...
Hose were predeceased by their mother, Garter Belts. They are survived by their step-siblings, Socks, Bare Feet and Winter Tights.
See an ongoing debate about this on mediabistro.com here: http://mediabistro.com/bbs/cache/t39788_1.asp
Monday, June 23, 2008
Why I will miss George Carlin
Iconoclast comedian George Carlin died last night from heart failure at 71. That's a shock to me -- he always seemed so youthful -- his razor wit, those huge eyes, his long hair, hip demeanor and black garb.
I had a few favorite Carlinisms, including this one cited on his own Web site: "Why do they lock gas station bathrooms? Are they afraid someone will clean them?"
He was the eternal hippy, constantly bucking the status quo. Lines drawn in the sand served one purpose only for Carlin -- to be stepped over. He thought that was what made America a bit healthier -- the constant skepticism, the push against conformity.
Unfortunately, it was perhaps that push that drove him away from religion. The acerbic stand-up comedian saw only society's little -- and big -- hypocrisies, and he equated religion with them.
Despite his witty take on things and his keen observation, he is most widely remembered for "Seven Words You Can Never Say On Television," the routine that got him arrested and led to a key Supreme Court ruling on obscenity.
His deeply philosophical view of obscenity -- or his shallow justification, depending on how you look at it -- had him blaming societal taboos on superstition."The whole problem with this idea of obscenity and indecency, and all of these things - bad language and whatever - it's all caused by one basic thing, and that is: religious superstition," Carlin told the AP in a 2004 interview. "There's an idea that the human body is somehow evil and bad and there are parts of it that are especially evil and bad, and we should be ashamed. Fear, guilt and shame are built into the attitude toward sex and the body. ... It's reflected in these prohibitions and these taboos that we have."
While George and I were polar opposites on religion, I greatly admired his God-given wit (although he never acknowledged it as such) as well as his willingness to take on some of the stupid trappings that detract from life's meaningful issues.
I had a few favorite Carlinisms, including this one cited on his own Web site: "Why do they lock gas station bathrooms? Are they afraid someone will clean them?"
He was the eternal hippy, constantly bucking the status quo. Lines drawn in the sand served one purpose only for Carlin -- to be stepped over. He thought that was what made America a bit healthier -- the constant skepticism, the push against conformity.
Unfortunately, it was perhaps that push that drove him away from religion. The acerbic stand-up comedian saw only society's little -- and big -- hypocrisies, and he equated religion with them.
Despite his witty take on things and his keen observation, he is most widely remembered for "Seven Words You Can Never Say On Television," the routine that got him arrested and led to a key Supreme Court ruling on obscenity.
His deeply philosophical view of obscenity -- or his shallow justification, depending on how you look at it -- had him blaming societal taboos on superstition."The whole problem with this idea of obscenity and indecency, and all of these things - bad language and whatever - it's all caused by one basic thing, and that is: religious superstition," Carlin told the AP in a 2004 interview. "There's an idea that the human body is somehow evil and bad and there are parts of it that are especially evil and bad, and we should be ashamed. Fear, guilt and shame are built into the attitude toward sex and the body. ... It's reflected in these prohibitions and these taboos that we have."
While George and I were polar opposites on religion, I greatly admired his God-given wit (although he never acknowledged it as such) as well as his willingness to take on some of the stupid trappings that detract from life's meaningful issues.
And I do respect that for a man who, though he was raised by a single mother and never got past grade 9 and whose checkered history included military court martials no doubt caused by his perennial failure to conform, didn't underachieve.
He hosted the first "Saturday Night Live" in 1975, despite being loaded up on cocaine all that week, the AP reported. Much later, he would tell NPR's Fresh Air host Terry Gross that he regretted the effect his drug use had on his own daughter.
Over the course of his career, he made 23 comedy albums, a number of TV specials, three books. His appearances ranged from "Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure" to Thomas the Tank Engine.
Honors he racked up included Emmy Awards, Grammy Awards, the Mark Twain Prize for American Humor, which will presumably be presented posthumously Nov. 10 in Washington and broadcast on PBS.
And if imitation is truly a sincere form of flattery, Carlin should have been bowled over. His own website tracked rounds of emails falsely attributed to him. http://www.georgecarlin.com/home/home.html
It might be appropriate to offer up 10 seconds of silence in memory of his blazing talent. Of course, it might also be appropriate to fill it with bleeps, equally in his memory.
He hosted the first "Saturday Night Live" in 1975, despite being loaded up on cocaine all that week, the AP reported. Much later, he would tell NPR's Fresh Air host Terry Gross that he regretted the effect his drug use had on his own daughter.
Over the course of his career, he made 23 comedy albums, a number of TV specials, three books. His appearances ranged from "Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure" to Thomas the Tank Engine.
Honors he racked up included Emmy Awards, Grammy Awards, the Mark Twain Prize for American Humor, which will presumably be presented posthumously Nov. 10 in Washington and broadcast on PBS.
And if imitation is truly a sincere form of flattery, Carlin should have been bowled over. His own website tracked rounds of emails falsely attributed to him. http://www.georgecarlin.com/home/home.html
It might be appropriate to offer up 10 seconds of silence in memory of his blazing talent. Of course, it might also be appropriate to fill it with bleeps, equally in his memory.
J. Louise Larson is a writer and editor whose work has appeared in Entrepreneur Magazine, the Dallas Morning News and a number of other publications. She is the editor of the Ennis Journal and a contributor to the Waxahachie Daily Light.
Saturday, May 24, 2008
When a child is lost
My heart goes out to Keltoi and his wife on the loss of their wonderful 2-year-old grandson who drowned two weeks ago, and to Christian singer/songwriter Steven Curtis Chapman and his wife on the loss of their 5-year-old daughter who was accidentally run over in their own driveway, by a car driven by their teen son.
I think I may know why they say "survived by" in obituaries.
To me it feels like a terrible travesty when parents and grandparents outlive their children and grandchildren.
Losing a parent is painful enough, but something that can perhaps be looked at philosophically when someone in their 80s or 90s dies. "He lived a full life," perhaps we can say.
In the play (and later movie) Steel Magnolias by Robert Harling (see the IMDB link here http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0098384/http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0098384/http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0098384/) M'Lynn wails that she was always ready to go first. I'm with M'Lynn.
While I was researching an article on Meals on Wheels of Ellis County, I was struck by the differences observed in two elderly women I interviewed. They were about the same age -- late 80s, and I recall.
One woman had 7 children, and she had outlived them all. The other had 10 children, and they were all still living. It's hard to describe (and harder to document as absolute proof) the difference in these two women's attitudes. Asked about their families, one said, "I had seven children and they're all gone." The other said, "I had 10 children and they're all still alive." The one whose children had all predeceased her was actually more fit and mobile, but I would have to say from just that brief meeting that the other one seemed much happier, like she had a purpose as the matriarch of that clan.
Someone on an online forum asked the question "What do you want to do before you die?" Sort of a "Bucket List" http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0825232/. I said I wanted to enjoy grandchildren. Even though I feel my articles, books, work will be a sort of legacy, I hope to live to see my children build their own nests, raise their own fledglings.
When that doesn't happen -- when a child dies, the pain is so acute it's hard to imagine that you could "get over it." It's more likely that the best we can do, at least in the short term, is to survive it.
Long live our children, and our children's children.
I think I may know why they say "survived by" in obituaries.
To me it feels like a terrible travesty when parents and grandparents outlive their children and grandchildren.
Losing a parent is painful enough, but something that can perhaps be looked at philosophically when someone in their 80s or 90s dies. "He lived a full life," perhaps we can say.
In the play (and later movie) Steel Magnolias by Robert Harling (see the IMDB link here http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0098384/http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0098384/http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0098384/) M'Lynn wails that she was always ready to go first. I'm with M'Lynn.
While I was researching an article on Meals on Wheels of Ellis County, I was struck by the differences observed in two elderly women I interviewed. They were about the same age -- late 80s, and I recall.
One woman had 7 children, and she had outlived them all. The other had 10 children, and they were all still living. It's hard to describe (and harder to document as absolute proof) the difference in these two women's attitudes. Asked about their families, one said, "I had seven children and they're all gone." The other said, "I had 10 children and they're all still alive." The one whose children had all predeceased her was actually more fit and mobile, but I would have to say from just that brief meeting that the other one seemed much happier, like she had a purpose as the matriarch of that clan.
Someone on an online forum asked the question "What do you want to do before you die?" Sort of a "Bucket List" http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0825232/. I said I wanted to enjoy grandchildren. Even though I feel my articles, books, work will be a sort of legacy, I hope to live to see my children build their own nests, raise their own fledglings.
When that doesn't happen -- when a child dies, the pain is so acute it's hard to imagine that you could "get over it." It's more likely that the best we can do, at least in the short term, is to survive it.
Long live our children, and our children's children.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
