I was once told by Al Dewlen, an award winning and best selling novelist, that a writer must have something worthwhile to say before he sets pen to paper and commences to write. Over the years, he told me many things -- mostly useful and often hilarious.
Early yesterday morning, this remarkable man -- who happened to be my stepdad -- died.
So, after many months of not posting on this forum, I finally have something to say. But what I have to say is very difficult, because it is my farewell to a man who has meant so much to my mother, to me and to my family.
I could begin my farewell by reciting his literary works, including those best-sellers that were made into major motion pictures during the early sixties.
Or, I could mention the heroic death of his son and my step-brother, Marine Lt. Michael Dewlen, which spawned his widely read and courageous Reader's Digest feature article that led to some of the most horrific and debased hate mail that a writer ever received.
I could mention his own service in the Marine Corps during World War II, when he and four other of his fellow Marines were charged with supervising 30,000 Japanese soldiers who had surrendered in China, and about how he spent more than two years in the Pacific Theater during the war without sleeping a single night indoors.
And, for the first time, I could mention his meritorious service with the Central Intelligence Agency and for which he was awarded one of the highest honors given by that institution.
I could talk about his early newspaper career, when he oversaw the growth of the daily newspaper in Amarillo from a publication with a very small circulation to one of the most influential newspapers in the state.
I could mention his devotion to Baylor University (my own alma mater), and speak of the generous monetary contributions that he made to the school and its athletic programs. To say how much would be bragging, so I will defer, as he would have wished.
But all of that is the stuff for a newspaper article reporting the passing of a public figure. This is personal. Even though I am no spring chicken, myself, I have lost my stepdad, and I loved, admired and respected him.
Some years ago, Al met my widowed mother on a blind date. And although they were mature, level-headed people, they almost immediately fell in love, and within three weeks they were married. I never before saw couple so much in love. And they did everything together. My daughter, Erin, described the relationship better than perhaps I could describe it. She said, "Al and grandma were soul mates." And indeed they were.
With no disrespect toward any of their former spouses, including my own father, I believe that I can say with some confidence that Al and my mother shared a love, companionship and mutual respect that they never before had experienced with anyone else.
And so, with the fondest of memories that will remain with me for the rest of my life, I now say, "Farewell, Dad."
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
That Reminds Me . . .
Thirty-seven years ago, a chain-smoking, skinny young man with a deep voice that didn't seem to match the body from which it spoke, was stalking the halls of the McLennan County Courthouse in Waco, Texas, waiting for the jury to return a verdict in the first capital murder trial held in Texas after the Legislature passed what was then the new capital murder statute in response to the U.S. Supreme Court's ruling that the old statute was unconstitutional. As news reporters often did at such times and under such circumstances, he joined in exchanging crude jokes with his colleagues, laughing out loud and creating echos in the cavernous rotunda on the third floor of the old Courthouse.
I was one of those news reporters loitering in the hallway outside the 54th District Court that day, and it was the first time I remember meeting Wayne Claiborne. At the time, Wayne was reporting for radio station WACO, and together with the always present Mr. Ball from Channel 10 (the passing years have caused me to forget his first name), the three of us yakked it up for some time as we waited for the jury to return with its verdict. Ultimately, the jury would return a verdict that would set in motion the execution of the Defendant, who previously had been convicted of the senseless and brutal shooting death of a convenience store clerk during a robbery which netted the Defendant less than $50.00.
A Facebook report informed me that Wayne passed away this week, reportedly penniless and almost forgotten. But not completely forgotten.
It is odd that only about two weeks ago, I was thinking about Wayne, Ball, and local radio reporter and later Justice of the Peace David Pareya, and all of the good times we had at the dawn of the disco era in Central Texas when we reported on the political
goings on in McLennan County and around the state.
Ultimately, the four of us went our separate ways. Wayne moved on to Channel 10, where he was a familiar face to thousands of Central Texans for several years. Ball finally retired, but I never found out what happened to him afterward. Pareya entered politics and was elected Justice of the Peace in West, a small Czech community just north of Waco. And I went to law school, and after graduation moved to Arlington.
We were young (except Ball, whom the rest of us thought was an old man in his 40s at the time), and we were idealistic and ambitious. We got to meet a lot of pretty famous people, and in reporting on the events of our time, we became somewhat minor celebrities, ourselves.
I always have thought that my years as a newspaper reporter were some of the best of my life. The job always was new and exciting. The times often were turbulent and filled with historically significant events (although we usually were unaware of the historical significance of the events at the time).
It is easy to forget those who briefly share the remote snapshots of our lives, and sometimes it takes the passing of one of those people to bring these almost forgotten pictures back into focus. I am grateful for my brief friendship with Wayne and for the times that we had together.
Wayne Claiborne may have died without a lot of worldly possessions, but he did not die forgotten.
I was one of those news reporters loitering in the hallway outside the 54th District Court that day, and it was the first time I remember meeting Wayne Claiborne. At the time, Wayne was reporting for radio station WACO, and together with the always present Mr. Ball from Channel 10 (the passing years have caused me to forget his first name), the three of us yakked it up for some time as we waited for the jury to return with its verdict. Ultimately, the jury would return a verdict that would set in motion the execution of the Defendant, who previously had been convicted of the senseless and brutal shooting death of a convenience store clerk during a robbery which netted the Defendant less than $50.00.
A Facebook report informed me that Wayne passed away this week, reportedly penniless and almost forgotten. But not completely forgotten.
It is odd that only about two weeks ago, I was thinking about Wayne, Ball, and local radio reporter and later Justice of the Peace David Pareya, and all of the good times we had at the dawn of the disco era in Central Texas when we reported on the political
goings on in McLennan County and around the state.
Ultimately, the four of us went our separate ways. Wayne moved on to Channel 10, where he was a familiar face to thousands of Central Texans for several years. Ball finally retired, but I never found out what happened to him afterward. Pareya entered politics and was elected Justice of the Peace in West, a small Czech community just north of Waco. And I went to law school, and after graduation moved to Arlington.
We were young (except Ball, whom the rest of us thought was an old man in his 40s at the time), and we were idealistic and ambitious. We got to meet a lot of pretty famous people, and in reporting on the events of our time, we became somewhat minor celebrities, ourselves.
I always have thought that my years as a newspaper reporter were some of the best of my life. The job always was new and exciting. The times often were turbulent and filled with historically significant events (although we usually were unaware of the historical significance of the events at the time).
It is easy to forget those who briefly share the remote snapshots of our lives, and sometimes it takes the passing of one of those people to bring these almost forgotten pictures back into focus. I am grateful for my brief friendship with Wayne and for the times that we had together.
Wayne Claiborne may have died without a lot of worldly possessions, but he did not die forgotten.
Sunday, August 1, 2010
July Blazes By
They say that time passes much more swiftly when one is busy (and as one gets older).
July was a whirlwind for me, both at home and at the office, and when I blinked twice, it was gone. The dog days of August in North Texas are upon us, and although we had quite a bit of unexpected rain during July, Mother Nature is back to her old self and is hurling triple-digit high temperatures.
Beginning on the first of July, I re-organized my office by permitting the attorneys who formerly were employees to move into what we call in the legal profession "of counsel" positions. By doing so, the attorneys have the opportunity to determine their own professional and financial destinies, and so far, I am pleased with the results. The value of this type of association is that all of the attorneys (myself included) continue to have the benefit of being a part of a larger group while maintaining his or her autonomy. We still have some wrinkles to iron out, but I am optimistic that our thriving practices will continue to flourish.
As I indicated earlier, July was an extremely busy month. Like many attorneys who are engaged in a commercial practice, I normally have two or three major client matters pending at any given time; however, I now find myself with no less than half a dozen pieces of major commercial litigation involving in excess of $100 million. Added to that are the dozens of families who are relying upon me to assist them in obtaining debt relief in bankruptcy and in attempting to restore their financial health.
And I wonder why it is sometimes hard to sleep at night.
One of my strengths as an attorney, which at the same time is a fault for a healthy human being, is that the problems and concerns of my clients never leave my mind. I find myself thinking about my clients and ways to help them solve their legal problems during the vast majority of my waking hours. Even when I take the rare vacation or when I make short trips out of town to attend a seminar or to participate in a poker game, these client issues never leave my mind.
On the one hand, I wish I had the ability to "leave it at the office", but I know that if I did so, I would not be the lawyer that I have become. And it is that lawyer whom my clients have retained to help them. I don't want to let them down.
Although the hectic pace of the past month has been tiring, I am looking forward to the challenges that will present themselves in August. These are challenging times for a lot people, and I want to be prepared to help as many of them as possible.
Until next time...
R. David Weaver
THE WEAVER LAW FIRM, P.C.
1521 N. Cooper St., Suite 710
Arlington, TX 76011
(817) 460-5900
rdweaver@weaverlawfirm.net
July was a whirlwind for me, both at home and at the office, and when I blinked twice, it was gone. The dog days of August in North Texas are upon us, and although we had quite a bit of unexpected rain during July, Mother Nature is back to her old self and is hurling triple-digit high temperatures.
Beginning on the first of July, I re-organized my office by permitting the attorneys who formerly were employees to move into what we call in the legal profession "of counsel" positions. By doing so, the attorneys have the opportunity to determine their own professional and financial destinies, and so far, I am pleased with the results. The value of this type of association is that all of the attorneys (myself included) continue to have the benefit of being a part of a larger group while maintaining his or her autonomy. We still have some wrinkles to iron out, but I am optimistic that our thriving practices will continue to flourish.
As I indicated earlier, July was an extremely busy month. Like many attorneys who are engaged in a commercial practice, I normally have two or three major client matters pending at any given time; however, I now find myself with no less than half a dozen pieces of major commercial litigation involving in excess of $100 million. Added to that are the dozens of families who are relying upon me to assist them in obtaining debt relief in bankruptcy and in attempting to restore their financial health.
And I wonder why it is sometimes hard to sleep at night.
One of my strengths as an attorney, which at the same time is a fault for a healthy human being, is that the problems and concerns of my clients never leave my mind. I find myself thinking about my clients and ways to help them solve their legal problems during the vast majority of my waking hours. Even when I take the rare vacation or when I make short trips out of town to attend a seminar or to participate in a poker game, these client issues never leave my mind.
On the one hand, I wish I had the ability to "leave it at the office", but I know that if I did so, I would not be the lawyer that I have become. And it is that lawyer whom my clients have retained to help them. I don't want to let them down.
Although the hectic pace of the past month has been tiring, I am looking forward to the challenges that will present themselves in August. These are challenging times for a lot people, and I want to be prepared to help as many of them as possible.
Until next time...
R. David Weaver
THE WEAVER LAW FIRM, P.C.
1521 N. Cooper St., Suite 710
Arlington, TX 76011
(817) 460-5900
rdweaver@weaverlawfirm.net
Monday, June 28, 2010
The Rain is Nice, But . . .
It's been more than a month since my last post, and I am not quite sure whether it's because I haven't had much to say, or whether I have been so busy that I haven't taken the time to write anything.
Most might suggest that the former is the true reason.
Whether or not I have had anything worthwhile to say, I certainly cannot claim that nothing much has been going on. To the contrary, so much has been going on lately that I hardly know where to start. So I'll begin with the obvious: It rained buckets this afternoon in North Arlington. I know this not only because I could see it through my seventh-floor office window, but because (typically) I left the windows on my Chevy Tahoe open.
It rained so much that water had thoroughly soaked my fabric-covered seats, and when I got home from the office, the seat of my pants were so wet that it looked like I had taken lessons from Annabelle and Lily (my six-month and four-month old granddaughters) on how to score a new set of clothes. Not only did I have to change trousers, my underwear was soaked, and I was forced to don a clean pair (and it's not even Saturday!).
But the worst of it is my garage door opener, which I leave in a compartment on the driver's side front door (just below the open window). A puddle of water had gathered in the compartment and almost submerged my garage door opener. I am hoping that a change of battery and a good drying out will render it workable again.
Youngest daughter Mandy and her husband, Gayer, are back in Korea. Mandy had come home to deliver her baby, and on June 4, she and the baby boarded a plane for the long trip to the other side of the world. Nancy accompanied them and stayed for two weeks, so it was just me, the dogs, the cat and the fish left behind to guard the homestead.
It was a long and lonely two weeks, especially after having Mandy here for almost five months. Gayer was here for the month of April, and Lily was here from the time she was born.
Business at the law firm is brisk, especially on the financial rehabilitation front. The troubled economy is placing a large number of really good people in harm's way from a financial standpoint. More and more of them are responding to our offer to provide meaningful assistance in these difficult times.
It's odd. I often hear the President and his aides telling us that the economy is getting better and stronger, but I just don't see much evidence of it. Of course, politicians are adept at telling us what they think we want to hear.
I wonder if anyone other than me would like to hear the truth, as opposed to more sugar-coated political rhetoric.
On a less serious note, my beloved Baylor Bears will remain in the Big 12 (now 10) Athletic Conference, at least for now. Something about a "political tsunami", according to the Pac 10 Commissioner, who was trying to recruit the big state schools for his grandiose vision of a super 16-team conference.
My alma mater may not be able to field a national champion football team, but we do produce some pretty loyal and well-connected graduates. Besides, Baylor is very competitive in all of the other collegiate sports. So those conference commissioners with dreams of snagging UT, A&M and Tech for their conferences would do well to consider mild and meek Baylor, as well. After all, the Good Book says that the meek will inherit the Earth, and the events over the past couple of months may provide evidence of that fact.
Signing off for now. Meanwhile, keep it between the lines and be careful out there.
R. David Weaver
Most might suggest that the former is the true reason.
Whether or not I have had anything worthwhile to say, I certainly cannot claim that nothing much has been going on. To the contrary, so much has been going on lately that I hardly know where to start. So I'll begin with the obvious: It rained buckets this afternoon in North Arlington. I know this not only because I could see it through my seventh-floor office window, but because (typically) I left the windows on my Chevy Tahoe open.
It rained so much that water had thoroughly soaked my fabric-covered seats, and when I got home from the office, the seat of my pants were so wet that it looked like I had taken lessons from Annabelle and Lily (my six-month and four-month old granddaughters) on how to score a new set of clothes. Not only did I have to change trousers, my underwear was soaked, and I was forced to don a clean pair (and it's not even Saturday!).
But the worst of it is my garage door opener, which I leave in a compartment on the driver's side front door (just below the open window). A puddle of water had gathered in the compartment and almost submerged my garage door opener. I am hoping that a change of battery and a good drying out will render it workable again.
Youngest daughter Mandy and her husband, Gayer, are back in Korea. Mandy had come home to deliver her baby, and on June 4, she and the baby boarded a plane for the long trip to the other side of the world. Nancy accompanied them and stayed for two weeks, so it was just me, the dogs, the cat and the fish left behind to guard the homestead.
It was a long and lonely two weeks, especially after having Mandy here for almost five months. Gayer was here for the month of April, and Lily was here from the time she was born.
Business at the law firm is brisk, especially on the financial rehabilitation front. The troubled economy is placing a large number of really good people in harm's way from a financial standpoint. More and more of them are responding to our offer to provide meaningful assistance in these difficult times.
It's odd. I often hear the President and his aides telling us that the economy is getting better and stronger, but I just don't see much evidence of it. Of course, politicians are adept at telling us what they think we want to hear.
I wonder if anyone other than me would like to hear the truth, as opposed to more sugar-coated political rhetoric.
On a less serious note, my beloved Baylor Bears will remain in the Big 12 (now 10) Athletic Conference, at least for now. Something about a "political tsunami", according to the Pac 10 Commissioner, who was trying to recruit the big state schools for his grandiose vision of a super 16-team conference.
My alma mater may not be able to field a national champion football team, but we do produce some pretty loyal and well-connected graduates. Besides, Baylor is very competitive in all of the other collegiate sports. So those conference commissioners with dreams of snagging UT, A&M and Tech for their conferences would do well to consider mild and meek Baylor, as well. After all, the Good Book says that the meek will inherit the Earth, and the events over the past couple of months may provide evidence of that fact.
Signing off for now. Meanwhile, keep it between the lines and be careful out there.
R. David Weaver
Monday, May 31, 2010
A Day of Remembrance
I never had a chance to meet him, because his father married my mother years after he died, but they called him a "baby killer". He was reviled, ridiculed and slandered by many of his countrymen. But he never heard the calumnies and the insults, because by the time the letters containing them were delivered to his parents' home, he already had been buried following a military funeral.
In the pre-dawn hours of July 7, 1968, at a remote outpost near the Cambodian border, the 24-year-old officer was in charge of an artillery battery whose job it was to cut off an escape route into Cambodia that was being used by North Vietnamese forces. An NVA unit of vastly superior numbers launched a surprise attack on the position being occupied by elements of the 12th Marines. Rousing from sleep, the young officer rallied his men and engaged in close combat with the enemy. After dispatching up to 24 enemy soldiers while reversing the direction of his artillery unit, the officer was cut down by fire from a Russian-made AK-47. However, his quick and decisive action in re-positioning his artillery resulted in successfully repelling the enemy attack, with only 15 American casualties (including himself) and saving the lives of many of his comrades.
He was posthumously awarded the Silver Star for his gallantry.
His father, who served with the Marines in the Pacific during World War II, grieved the only way he knew how. His father was a writer, so he wrote a moving and thought-provoking article about his son for Reader's Digest. After the piece was published, a flood of hate mail flowed into his father's mailbox. Three years later, still grieving the death of his only child, the father used the hate mail as the backdrop for a new novel, Next of Kin. Although no longer in print, the book can be found in many bookstores and online, and it tells the poignant story of the nation's confusion and division concerning Vietnam that was prevalent at the time.
Today is Memorial Day. I urge all who view this to join me in remembering those who sacrificed their lives in the service of their country, especially the more than 58,000 who did so during a very unpopular war and who, rather than being honored, were reviled by their countrymen.
As has been said by many who have experienced combat, the only true heroes are those who didn't make it back.
Today I remember with honor and deep appreciation my step-brother, 2d Lt. Michael Lee Dewlen. And although I never got to meet him, I am proud to call him my brother.
R. David Weaver
P.S. -- If you are interested in reading his father's book, you likely can find it by Googling "Al Dewlen" and going to one of the sites that offer his work.
RDW
In the pre-dawn hours of July 7, 1968, at a remote outpost near the Cambodian border, the 24-year-old officer was in charge of an artillery battery whose job it was to cut off an escape route into Cambodia that was being used by North Vietnamese forces. An NVA unit of vastly superior numbers launched a surprise attack on the position being occupied by elements of the 12th Marines. Rousing from sleep, the young officer rallied his men and engaged in close combat with the enemy. After dispatching up to 24 enemy soldiers while reversing the direction of his artillery unit, the officer was cut down by fire from a Russian-made AK-47. However, his quick and decisive action in re-positioning his artillery resulted in successfully repelling the enemy attack, with only 15 American casualties (including himself) and saving the lives of many of his comrades.
He was posthumously awarded the Silver Star for his gallantry.
His father, who served with the Marines in the Pacific during World War II, grieved the only way he knew how. His father was a writer, so he wrote a moving and thought-provoking article about his son for Reader's Digest. After the piece was published, a flood of hate mail flowed into his father's mailbox. Three years later, still grieving the death of his only child, the father used the hate mail as the backdrop for a new novel, Next of Kin. Although no longer in print, the book can be found in many bookstores and online, and it tells the poignant story of the nation's confusion and division concerning Vietnam that was prevalent at the time.
Today is Memorial Day. I urge all who view this to join me in remembering those who sacrificed their lives in the service of their country, especially the more than 58,000 who did so during a very unpopular war and who, rather than being honored, were reviled by their countrymen.
As has been said by many who have experienced combat, the only true heroes are those who didn't make it back.
Today I remember with honor and deep appreciation my step-brother, 2d Lt. Michael Lee Dewlen. And although I never got to meet him, I am proud to call him my brother.
R. David Weaver
P.S. -- If you are interested in reading his father's book, you likely can find it by Googling "Al Dewlen" and going to one of the sites that offer his work.
RDW
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
The Day I Became a Father
It was a harrowing 36-hour period. Shortly after midnight May 24, 1972, a young girl was abducted during a hold-up at a Waco 7-Eleven store, and as a reporter for the local newspaper, I was called in to cover the story. After the girl was released on the afternoon of May 25, my photographer and I conducted our interview, and copy and photos were turned in near deadline.
After an exhausting day and a half, I got home at about 11:00 p.m. on the 25th. It was a Thursday night, and I had planned to take off on Friday and spend a long Memorial Day weekend catching up on much-needed sleep and relaxation. But before I had settled in for the night, my wife informed me that she believed she was in labor with our first child. Instead of going to bed, we packed up and headed for the hospital.
I had seen enough movies and had watched enough "I Love Lucy" episodes to know that babies are born within two hours after the expectant mother gets to the hospital. So I naturally believed that I only was delaying my bedtime by a few hours, at most.
Movies and television programs do not necessarily reflect life as it often is.
After 19 hours of labor, at exactly 8:00 p.m. on May 26, 1972, Dena Gayle Weaver came into the world, and I became a father.
In those days, fathers were not permitted in the delivery room, so I paced in a traditional waiting room for expectant fathers smoking cigarettes (it was the fashionable thing to do at the time, and hospitals had no problem permitting smoking inside their facilities) and watching people come, have their babies, and leave, wondering all along why it could not have worked that way for me.
When the nurse finally rolled the incubator containing my baby into the waiting room, I was amazed at this creature with its eyes wide open, staring calmly up at a disheveled young man with a silly grin on his weary face.
From that moment, my life was forever changed.
I knew very early that Dena was special. When she was only 5 years old, she already was reading music, playing the piano and composing simple melodies. At that time, I surmised that she would become a famous composer and musician. But I was naive, and I believed that Dena's musical accomplishments at such an early age were due to talent, alone. What I later learned was that Dena has the ability to commit all of her effort and focus to whatever task she undertakes.
She graduated with honors from high school. She then attended Baylor University, graduating in four years with a degree in psychology. Although she wasn't sure what profession she wanted to enter at the time, circumstances brought her into contact with the business world when she accepted a position with a bank. During her time at the bank, she earned a Master's Degree in Business Administration and became a trust officer, handling millions of dollars entrusted to the care of the bank.
When the bank closed its Texas trust operations, she enrolled at Baylor Law School, and after three years, she graduated second in a Baylor law school class comprised of the brightest and best law students in the state.
She is now a third-year securities litigator with a large, multi-national law firm, and she currently is spending her birthday in Houston working on a major case involving billions of dollars and impacting thousands of people worldwide.
To say that I am proud of her is an understatement.
So happy birthday to Dena Weaver, one of the great successes of my life.
R. David Weaver
After an exhausting day and a half, I got home at about 11:00 p.m. on the 25th. It was a Thursday night, and I had planned to take off on Friday and spend a long Memorial Day weekend catching up on much-needed sleep and relaxation. But before I had settled in for the night, my wife informed me that she believed she was in labor with our first child. Instead of going to bed, we packed up and headed for the hospital.
I had seen enough movies and had watched enough "I Love Lucy" episodes to know that babies are born within two hours after the expectant mother gets to the hospital. So I naturally believed that I only was delaying my bedtime by a few hours, at most.
Movies and television programs do not necessarily reflect life as it often is.
After 19 hours of labor, at exactly 8:00 p.m. on May 26, 1972, Dena Gayle Weaver came into the world, and I became a father.
In those days, fathers were not permitted in the delivery room, so I paced in a traditional waiting room for expectant fathers smoking cigarettes (it was the fashionable thing to do at the time, and hospitals had no problem permitting smoking inside their facilities) and watching people come, have their babies, and leave, wondering all along why it could not have worked that way for me.
When the nurse finally rolled the incubator containing my baby into the waiting room, I was amazed at this creature with its eyes wide open, staring calmly up at a disheveled young man with a silly grin on his weary face.
From that moment, my life was forever changed.
I knew very early that Dena was special. When she was only 5 years old, she already was reading music, playing the piano and composing simple melodies. At that time, I surmised that she would become a famous composer and musician. But I was naive, and I believed that Dena's musical accomplishments at such an early age were due to talent, alone. What I later learned was that Dena has the ability to commit all of her effort and focus to whatever task she undertakes.
She graduated with honors from high school. She then attended Baylor University, graduating in four years with a degree in psychology. Although she wasn't sure what profession she wanted to enter at the time, circumstances brought her into contact with the business world when she accepted a position with a bank. During her time at the bank, she earned a Master's Degree in Business Administration and became a trust officer, handling millions of dollars entrusted to the care of the bank.
When the bank closed its Texas trust operations, she enrolled at Baylor Law School, and after three years, she graduated second in a Baylor law school class comprised of the brightest and best law students in the state.
She is now a third-year securities litigator with a large, multi-national law firm, and she currently is spending her birthday in Houston working on a major case involving billions of dollars and impacting thousands of people worldwide.
To say that I am proud of her is an understatement.
So happy birthday to Dena Weaver, one of the great successes of my life.
R. David Weaver
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
New Babies, Baptism, Confirmation, Poker & Golf
It's been about three weeks since I posted, and quite a bit has happened during that time. My two brand new granddaughters are growing like weeds. I am always amazed when a newborn begins to grow, develop a personality and actually becomes a little human being.
I had the singular honor of receiving Lillian's very first smile, and it was a special moment that I never will forget (although Dad, Mom and Nanna were a little jealous). Unfortunately, she and her mother are leaving very soon to return to Korea. Nancy is traveling with them, and for that I am grateful, as the long journey likely would be too much for Mandy to handle alone. I am going to miss them.
Annabelle keeps growing, and she is one of the most even-tempered, happy babies that I ever have seen. She seldom raises a fuss, and she is very quick to give a smile or a giggle to whomever is paying attention to her. She was baptized this past Sunday at her Church, and I was thrilled to be able to witness it. As the minister was holding her in preparation for the baptism, she gazed up at him and gave him a great, big smile.
Grandson Matthew has been attending classes at his Church since January, and this Sunday he is scheduled for confirmation. Matthew is 12 now, and he has grown into quite the young man. I am very proud of him.
While my family continues to grow and prosper, my poker game is on a roller coaster. I love the challenge of playing, and I have enjoyed some success. But just when I think I have figured out the best strategy to employ, I have a session where it seems that nothing works. So far, I still am ahead for the year, and I hope to continue to learn more and become a better player. Maybe some day I will be at the final table at one of those big tournaments playing for a big payday.
My golf game is stuck at a level with which I am entirely dissatisfied. I changed my golf club membership a little over a year ago, and I now am playing at a course that is much more challenging than the course I had spent the past 25 years playing. My handicap mushroomed from 12 to 17, and I am having trouble getting it reduced to where it was.
Meanwhile, I am getting ready for the Bishop Iker Golf Challenge at Squaw Valley Golf Course in Glen Rose. It is a beautiful golf course, and I always have enjoyed playing it. The annual charity tournament benefits Camp Crucis, which is a facility owned and operated by the Episcopal Diocese of Fort Worth, and I am proud to have been one of the sponsors of this tournament during the past four years or so.
My firm's new financial rehabilitation program is beginning to gain momentum as more and more people come to realize that simply discharging debt in bankruptcy is not enough to begin to build a foundation for permanent financial security. I am optimistic that as the message of hope that my firm is seeking to convey spreads, we will be able to assist more and more families in financial distress.
Until next time,
R. David Weaver
I had the singular honor of receiving Lillian's very first smile, and it was a special moment that I never will forget (although Dad, Mom and Nanna were a little jealous). Unfortunately, she and her mother are leaving very soon to return to Korea. Nancy is traveling with them, and for that I am grateful, as the long journey likely would be too much for Mandy to handle alone. I am going to miss them.
Annabelle keeps growing, and she is one of the most even-tempered, happy babies that I ever have seen. She seldom raises a fuss, and she is very quick to give a smile or a giggle to whomever is paying attention to her. She was baptized this past Sunday at her Church, and I was thrilled to be able to witness it. As the minister was holding her in preparation for the baptism, she gazed up at him and gave him a great, big smile.
Grandson Matthew has been attending classes at his Church since January, and this Sunday he is scheduled for confirmation. Matthew is 12 now, and he has grown into quite the young man. I am very proud of him.
While my family continues to grow and prosper, my poker game is on a roller coaster. I love the challenge of playing, and I have enjoyed some success. But just when I think I have figured out the best strategy to employ, I have a session where it seems that nothing works. So far, I still am ahead for the year, and I hope to continue to learn more and become a better player. Maybe some day I will be at the final table at one of those big tournaments playing for a big payday.
My golf game is stuck at a level with which I am entirely dissatisfied. I changed my golf club membership a little over a year ago, and I now am playing at a course that is much more challenging than the course I had spent the past 25 years playing. My handicap mushroomed from 12 to 17, and I am having trouble getting it reduced to where it was.
Meanwhile, I am getting ready for the Bishop Iker Golf Challenge at Squaw Valley Golf Course in Glen Rose. It is a beautiful golf course, and I always have enjoyed playing it. The annual charity tournament benefits Camp Crucis, which is a facility owned and operated by the Episcopal Diocese of Fort Worth, and I am proud to have been one of the sponsors of this tournament during the past four years or so.
My firm's new financial rehabilitation program is beginning to gain momentum as more and more people come to realize that simply discharging debt in bankruptcy is not enough to begin to build a foundation for permanent financial security. I am optimistic that as the message of hope that my firm is seeking to convey spreads, we will be able to assist more and more families in financial distress.
Until next time,
R. David Weaver
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