30...13...3

No, those aren't my favorite numbers, nor is it the start of a special sequence for you to guess what's next.

Those numbers are special to me for different reasons. Two of them change annually and are especially appropriate today - September 23.

• 30 -- The years since my birth mom passed away from multiple sclerosis (Sept. 23, 1983).
• 13 -- The years I've been married to Erica Rodriguez of Harlingen, Texas (Sept. 23, 2000).
• 3 -- The number of extraordinary women in my life. My birth mom, my wife, and my stepmom -- Gloria.

Though it's been 30 years, I remember the day as if it were yesterday. I came home from sixth grade, and our housekeeper greeted me at the door. "Your Dad has something he wants to tell you," she said. At that moment, even though I was just 11, I knew -- I knew she was gone, and I knew she was in a better place.

Eleanor Joanne Knepshield had been diagnosed with multiple sclerosis while carrying me. She even went temporarily blind during the pregnancy, which was very difficult. In fact, I came out so blue the doctors didn't know if I was alive and if so, for how long. Shortly afterward, she was confined to a wheelchair. Mom continued to decline, eventually having to be cared for 24/7 by my dad (cleaning, feeding, transporting) before going to a nursing home.

Joanne

But while mom's body was failing her, her mind was not. She was a brilliant, complex woman who did all she could for her son while she had the time. Though it was happening right before me, it was difficult -- if not impossible -- for me to understand what she was going through and the frustration and pain she was enduring. I knew it was bad, though, and I wanted it to be over.

So, when Dad delivered the news on Sept. 23, 1983, I was actually happy. I knew Mom was in a better place -- no more pain, no more suffering -- and I would someday see her again for all eternity as what she was -- a perfect woman. I also knew it was a relief for Dad as caregiver and that after a time of mourning, we could go on with our lives. In fact, to this day, I have not cried about her passing, as I know she is looking down on me -- smiling -- every day.

Fortunately for Dad and I, God brought another special woman into our lives - Gloria M. Lemasters. He remarried a little more than a year after Mom passed, and now I had a stepmom. I never call her that, though. There is no "step" - just "Mom."

Yes, this Mom was a little hard on me, but I needed it. Obviously, my birth mom was unable to really raise me, and Dad -- through no fault of his own -- was preoccupied with caring for her. So, I spent my early years as a wild child. Lots of sweets and lots of calories. No curfew. A severe asthmatic who sometimes went through an entire inhaler in a day. Yellow, almost jaundiced, skin. Too skinny and too short.

Gloria

Having raised three great adult children of her own, Gloria changed all that immediately. We moved to another school district out of the suburbs where the fresh "country air" could fill my lungs. Gone were the sweets. Gone was the inhaler as a "pacifier" (take deep breaths and focus on blowing out a candle instead). When I told her I wanted to try out for the high school basketball team, most would have laughed. She encouraged me.

The entire time, even today, she considers herself an extension of my birth mom. I couldn't agree more, and while we've had our disagreements as Mom and Son, I give her (and my Dad) complete credit for making me the man I am today.

Surprisingly, with that kind of upbringing, this man was not a ladies' man (Ha!). It may have been my mannerisms, my cursing, my introverted personality, or several other things. But here I was at 27 without a girlfriend, much less a spouse.

All that changed in August 1999 when I met Erica Rodriguez. I had been at the McAllen Monitor newspaper for a couple years, most recently on the copy desk. Erica had just joined the paper in the same department after graduating from The University of Texas at San Antonio. Born and raised in Harlingen, she felt a calling from God after UTSA to return to the Rio Grande Valley. I'm glad she answered!

Immediately, I was struck by her good looks, her patience and kindness towards others, and her faith in God (did I tell you she was hot?). I was a Catholic but had explored joining a different denomination, as the faith just wasn't there for me. She was a born-again Christian, and her spirit influenced me (indeed, I became born-again myself before we married).

Erica

After finally getting the courage to ask her out for "vittles" during our work breaks, we went on a first date. And how romantic - I took her to Rio Grande City where I was covering a game for the paper in the press box. The local radio station put me on at halftime for commentary, and I thought with my influence, good looks (cough, cough) and new Ford Mustang with custom wheels and stereo system that I had her in the bag. I even took her to Whataburger for dinner!

However, when I dropped her off at home, I forgot one important thing -- walking her to the door. Yikes! That almost killed it, but her Mom (another strong influence on my life) said to give mijo another chance. A long story short, she did, and three months later we were engaged.

In making the initial wedding preparations, we had an idea of the location (South Padre Island) but not the date. We obviously needed a few months to plan. Then, it hit me as if it were from my birth mom above looking down -- Sept. 23. Erica wholeheartedly agreed, and the day has not just become one of remembrance but also of celebration. In fact, we wear my birth parents' wedding bands as a daily reminder.

Now, it's 13 years today since our wedding (easy to remember our anniversary), and like Eleanor and Gloria, I love Erica more every day. She puts up with me more than any wife should and isn't afraid to wear the pants in the family at times. She handles the finances, plans the trips and pretty much anything in between. There's nothing she can't do, and I know she'll be a great mother herself someday (no, this isn't a "We're Having a Baby!" announcement).

So there's the meaning behind my special numbers. And for those reading -- and not reading -- this blog, count your blessings for each special woman in your life. I have three.

Til the next time...

What's in a Name?

Monday Night Football kicks off its 44th season tonight (Sept. 9), with the Philadelphia Eagles at the Washington Redskins as the opening act. Don’t be surprised if you hear the fight song “Hail to the Redskins” a few times during the game.

But as they prepare to hit the field, the controversy surrounding team names and mascots such as “Redskins” has again resurfaced. In fact, renowned Sports Illustrated senior writer Peter King said recently he would not use "Redskins," while media such as AP and New York Times do not plan to change.

Various universities have addressed the issue, such as the St. John’s “Redmen” changing to “Red Storm,” and the University of Illinois retiring its mascot “Chief Illiniwek.” Professional sports – not so much.

Obviously, this controversy is not new. In fact, below is a column I wrote for my college newspaper back in 1992. I even alluded to possibilities 20 years from that time, our present day.

Take from it what you will. Til the next time…

February 27, 1992

Angelo State University Ram Page

Guest editorial: Racism not strictly black-and-white issue

“Don’t tell me that you agree with me, when I saw you kicking dirt in my eyes…If you’re gonna be my brother, it don’t matter if you’re black or white.”

-- From “Black or White” by Michael Jackson

           

            Several weeks ago, Americans observed a holiday in honor of civil rights leader Martin Luther King Jr. That is, everyone except Arizona.

            Arizona does not view Martin Luther King Jr.’s birthday as a federal holiday. It did in 1986, when former Gov. Bruce Babbitt enacted legislation making King’s birthday a holiday. One year later, however, then-Gov. Evan Mecham rescinded the King holiday for “budgetary reasons.” Past-Gov. Rose Mofford fought hard to revive the holiday for King, but when voters turned it down in 1991, it became extinct.

            Beyond the federal government, states should have the right to conduct business as they think necessary. Yet, state governments find themselves pleasing no one. They hope strong public relations and a mound of paperwork will convince people what they are doing is right.

            While blacks are discriminated in Arizona, Native Americans are discriminated in professional sports. The use of nicknames such as Indians, Chiefs, Braves and Redskins by professional organizations has long been resented by Native Americans, who feel such terms are offensive. Even Webster’s Dictionary defines “Redskin” as an offensive word.

            In last year’s World Series, Clyde Bellecourt, founder of the American Indian Movement, led a group of protestors demanding the Atlanta Braves change their nickname. A few weeks ago, Bellecourt again joined about 4,000 people to demonstrate against the use of “Redskins” as a Washington mascot.

            Mascot supporters argue the protestors are “mobsters” trying to draw attention to themselves. Other supporters claim such sport nicknames uphold tradition and upstanding values.

Yet, imagine 20 years from now watching the Phoenix Jews play the San Diego Caucasians or the Pittsburgh Negroes host the Los Angeles Hispanics. Do those nicknames elicit tradition and upstanding values to you?

However, it is not the fault of Arizona or professional sports. It is the fault of us all. Sure, we can create “laws” and form commissions to investigate problems. But have we found a solution to the question of racism?

Look at the issues of abortion, euthanasia, capital punishment and civil rights. Each has been the subject of much debate. Once again, where are the solutions? All are still as unanswered as they were 20 years ago. It is as though we are moving nowhere.

Simply put, each of us has a duty to end racism and racial discrimination. Sure, we all have feelings of jealousy, prejudice and fear toward each other, especially on the basis of color. Yet, that is on the inside. It is what we convey to others that reveals those feelings.

In late August 1963, more than 200,000 blacks and whites assembled at the Lincoln Memorial in Washington, D.C., to listen to King. He told them: “I have a dream that one day … little black boys and black girls will be able to join hands with little white boys and white girls as sisters and brothers. I have a dream today!”

If we realize we are all one people in color and content, the “dream” of ending racism toward blacks, Native Americans and our fellow man can slowly become a reality. Otherwise, we are not making King’s “dream” come true. We are making it a nightmare.

(Contributed by senior journalism major Scott Maier.)