Sunday, December 22, 2013


A Dollar's Worth

By Alisa Dollar

Last week I flew to Phoenix to watch oldest grandchild graduate high school. I don't think I will ever understand flight paths. I flew from Lubbock to Austin to Phoenix. Mr. D thinks I scheduled it on purpose because he calls me Pathfinder.

I was to leave at 6:40 p.m. but because of the horrible tornado in Oklahoma, it was 9:40 to finally arrive in Phoenix at 2:30 a.m. their time.

Needless to say there were some very tired, irritated and cranky travelers along the way having been stranded for hours in places many had not planned on doing anything but touch ground.

One of which was Lubbock.

Realizing the South Plains of Texas is an acquired taste, I will readily admit I had to get used to the sky touching the ground even within the city limits. However, it's been my home for most of my adult life.

When finally boarding there was a group of noisy people behind me who were saying loudly how happy they were to get out of this place, it was awful, the airport was awful, the town was boring and the last for best, it was ugly and they wanted to get home.

I've learned in my life to choose battles and when I turned to look at the group of partiers I instantly chose this one.

After staring them down I said, "Just think. You could be in Oklahoma digging through rubble. Poor you. You're stuck in Lubbock."

Needless to say I rained on their parade and hopefully I helped them remember that home truly is where a heart might be.

Memorial Day was just ahead and I couldn't help but think of men and women who gave their lives for this country and then the ravages left in my neighboring state of those who in an instant lost so much.

It's a hard concept to grasp especially since I've not experienced either firsthand.  I can only be reverent to those who have even if it's only being patient for hours of delayed flights.

Elizabeth played the national anthem with two other saxophonists to open their high school graduation ceremony which would begin a new venture into adulthood.

One could hear a pin drop because of its haunting beauty.

Her very proud nana shed tears of joy at the sound which consolidated all of what I felt about home to definition.

We are the home of the brave.

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