Category Archives: local news

local news

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I am going to sound like a self-righteous do-gooder with this brief blog post, so I’ll apologize in advance for anyone who takes it that way.

I deliver Meals on Wheels every Monday to about a dozen households in Princeton. It takes me a little more than an hour to deliver a hot meal, a bottle of milk and a dessert/snack to shut-ins.

It is truly a gratifying hour-plus I spend each week. Almost without exception these folks greet me with a smile and a good word. For many of them it is clear to me they don’t talk with anyone outside of immediate family. Many of them have timed my arrival, as it’s about the same each week. They open the door as I am walking to deliver the knock or ring the bell.

We engage in small talk. They wish me well. One sweet lady near the end of my route always instructs me to “be careful, darlin’.”

How in the world can one start your day any better than that?

And yet … here’s where the politics comes in. The Elon Musk/Donald Trump administration well might ponder a way to cut funding for thie program. I haven’t yet heard whether the Collin County branch of Meals on Wheels is in jeopardy. I only am left to hope that it somehow survives the draconian cuts that Musk’s Department of Government Efficiency is pondering.

Keep your grimy mitts off this valuable service we provide for those in need.

local news, medical news

No redeeming value in this loss

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Two years have passed since I experienced the worst day of my life and I still am getting the reaction from those intending to offer some semblance of comfort.

I recently explained to someone who inquired about my marital status. “I am a widower,” I responded. “Oh? Tell me what happened,” came the reaction. I told this individual about the glioblastoma that struck Kathy Anne, about the surgery to removed part of the mass in her brain, the rehab, the grand mal seizure and finally the end that came six weeks after the diagnosis.

“At least she didn’t suffer,” the individual said … to which I shot back, “There is nothing positive I can claim from all this.”

To be clear, I am rebuilding my life and the foundation for my new life looks promising. The brevity of my bride’s battle does not lessen the pain that came at the end of her life on Earth.

I have been through all kinds of family tragedy. Dad’s death in September 1980 was sudden and shocking. The last words I said to him were, “I’ll see you Wednesday.” He left on a weekend fishing trip to British Columbia, but then perished when the skipper of the boat he was in crashed into a log jam. Dad died instantly. I got the news and I felt the numbness of the shock consume my body.

Mom died nearly four years later to the day. She suffered from Alzheimer’s disease. We watched her disappear before our eyes over several years, losing cognitive skill bit by agonizing bit. The end came. I was expecting it.

Both instances inflicted enormous pain on our family.

Then came Kathy Anne’s sudden illness and then she was gone.

I never will accept the end of my bride’s life as a “blessing” because she “didn’t suffer.” The pain, although it still twinges, has become something I am able to manage and control.

Life does go on.

environmental news, local news

DST or Standard Time?

Americans are going to go through that twice-a-year rite of bitching about the shift from Standard Time to Daylight Saving Time.

We’ll have to push the clocks ahead one hour before we hit the sack Saturday night. Or else we’ll all be late for worship and all other things we do on Sunday.

Then the gripes will come.

  • Why do we have to keep messing with our body clocks?
  • I hate this time change stuff; it messes me up!
  • Farmers and ranchers shouldn’t have to change the times they feed their livestock. I mean, cattle and horses don’t know the difference!

You know how it goes.

For one thing, changing the schedlule from Standard Time to DST — and then back again in the fall — never has been a big deal for me. I get, though, why some folks dislike the change.

Texas had a chance a few years back to vote on whether to change to one time-keeping system or remain the same. The Legislature didn’t get the legislation prepared in time, so lawmakers adjourned the session sine die and the bill never got put to a vote.

If I had to choose, though, I think I would prefer permanent DST. Why? I just like having more daylight at the end of the day than at the beginning. It’s just me, man … you know?

Changing back and forth, though,  never has been a big f****** deal me.

So ,.. let’s all spring forward toward the next long, blistering Norh Texas summer, shall we?

local news

I am ‘home’ for keeps

A friend asked me a question I have been asked many times since moving to Texas in the spring of 1984.

“Do you plan to move back to Oregon at any time?” the question came. I answered my pal the same way I have answered it many times before.

“My short answer is no,” I said. He wanted to know why.

“It’s too expensive there,” I said. I have watched real estate prices climb into the heavens in the state of my birth and I have determined I cannot afford to live there.

Plus, I told my friend, my wife Kathy Anne and I moved to Texas to advance my journalism career. We were successful in (a) allowing my career to proceed and provide me with some modest success along the way and (b) carving out a great life in three vastly different regions of this massive state.

We moved to the Golden Triangle, then to the Panhandle, and then to the Dallas-Fort Worth Metroplex. Each region provided us with great joy, a bit of culture shock and the move to the D/FW area put us close to our granddaughter, who tomorrow celebrates her 12th birthday.

All of this is my way of saying out loud that although I have proven to be an adaptable fellow, I still am able to sink my roots deeply into whatever terrain where I am living. I have done so in the Lone Star State.

I am here likely for the duration.

local news, State news

Princeton still needs an ID

Princeton is a growing North Texas city that needs to establish a community event that delivers an identity to a rapidly developing community.

City Manager Mike Mashburn estimates Princeton’s population at 43,000 residents. It’s a far cry, therefore, from the tiny burg that straddles U.S. Highway 380.

Why bring this issue up again? I received my copy of Texas Highways annual Texas State Travel Guide. I have been reading Texas Highways magazine for many years. It is a premier travel magazine that highlights communities throughout our vast state, telling visitors of places and people of interest.

This year’s Travel Guide, just like all the rest I have seen over many decades, contains not a single mention of Princeton. The 2025 edition of the Travel Guide doesn’t list Princeton in the section dedicated to communities throughout North and Northeast Texas.

Farmersville, a much smaller community eight miles east of Princeton, is listed among potential destinations in Texas. Farmersville commemorates World War II hero Audie Murphy every year; the Rike Memorial Library contains an Audie Murphy exhibit; Chaparral Trail gets a mention; so does Freedom Park in the city’s downtown plaza.

Princeton, which is roughly 10 times the size of Farmersville, gets no mention at all.

I know that these identity issues take time to develop. Princeton clearly is a city in transition as it seeks to manage the explosive growth that at times seens to overwhelm local officials.

I have lived in Princeton for six years. I enjoy my life here. However, there seems to be little community enthusiasm for events that benefit the entire city … and make Princeton a place to visit and to enjoy the benefits of life in the growing community.

If Texas Highways magazine cannot mention this rapidly growing city, then the folks at City Hall need to redouble their efforts to stage an event that brings people here … if only for a day!

I want my city to get a mention in the state’s premier travel magazine. I guess I will have to wait until next year.

local news

Complex defies logic

Suppose someone had placed a loaded pistol to my noggin, cocked the hammer and told me to predict the future of a long-abandoned 360-unit partially built apartment complex in Princeton, Texas.

I would have said, under duress, that it would be knocked down, the rubble scraped up and the site turned iinto a park.

Silly me. The City Council instead decided to give the developer some grace and told him to finish the job.

So, the Princeton Luxury Apartment complex is being built again on U.S. Highway 380 just east of the Wal-Mart store.

Let me be clear. I still question the wisdom of granting the permit years ago to proceed with this complex, given the growth occurring in Princeton and the incredible strain on traffic that this complex is going to bring to an already-stressed traffic thoroughfare. I heard about the pending project immediately after my wife and I moved to Princeton. My first reaction was muted, but then I grew to wonder: What was the City Council thinking?

The contractor and the developer got into a snit about three years ago. The contractor walked off the job, leaving it about 30%-ish complete. It sat there vacant, only turning into more of an eyesore with each passing season of inclement weather.

Then, something of a miracle happened. The developer was able to find a contractor to finish the task. Three buildings, though, were knocked down because they were beyond redemption.

The site, though, is humming once again with construction through the winter wind chills.

I’ve noted already that a city’s progress occasionally brings some pain along the way. Princeton is one such city that is a work in progress. Its populaton far exceeds the 17,027 Census figure on the signs entering Princeton. City Council has enacted a building ban on residential developments at least until this summer.

The apartment complex in question is going to open about the time work begins to widen U.S. 380, turning the highway into the last place on Earth you want to be during morning and evening rush hours.

Princeton’s progress is proceeding. I only hope now that the apartment complex, once it’s finished, will add another jewel to the growing city’s crown.

local news

Parks may define city’s ID

Six years living in Princeton, Texas, and I still am trying to find the “thing” that makes this city so attractive to newcomers.

I learned this week, for example, that the city estimates its population at around 43,000 residents based on the number of registered water meters in operation. The number comes from City Manager Mike Mashburn, who I am going to presume knows these things quite well.

Still, the figure astounds me. The population sign read 6,807 when my wife and I moved here in February 2019. The 2020 Census boosted the figure to 17,027 residents. Now it’s well north of 40 grand? Holy cow!

What kind of identity is the city forming? Mashburn believes it is going to come in the development of its park system. He knows about that direction of growth, too. He came here a year ago after serving as an assistant city manager in Farmers Branch, where he specialized in park development.

Princeton voters in November 2023 approved a $109 million bond issue to develop parks, green space and recreational opportunites for the exploding population that continues to pour into the city. I supported the bond issue, as I believe parks and green space are important places for residents to escape the tribulations of busy lives.

The city has embarked on several park projects, one of them happens to be quite close to my home. The JJ Book Wilson Park is being expanded along Beauchamp Boulevard to include a skate park, playground, trails and water recreation. That’s just one.

Mashburn apparently believes that enhanced park development can become a key part of Princeton’s effort to establish its identity, making the city a place that attracts people for a specific reason. That is not a bad call at all.

Therefore, Princeton’s evolution from tiny burg along the longest continual U.S. highway in Texas, to a city of signifcance is continuing. If park development is the catalyst, how in the world can we be critical of more green space for residents and their children and grandchildren to relax?

local news

This news hurts … seriously

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I am at the age of my life where I spend time looking at obituaries … just to see which of my friends and acquaintances have gone on to reap their great reward.

I did so again today — and got the shock of my life!

Inside the obituary page of the Amarillo Globe-News was news that a former marketing director for the newspaper had died at age 65. Her name was Jo Tyler Bagwell.

Jo was not famous outside of Amarillo — or Claude, where she grew up and attended high school. However, this woman was a force of nature. I first made her acquaintance when she worked in the marketing department of a local bank; I met her a day or two after I moved to Amarillo in January 1995 to start my job at the Globe-News. We hit it off immediately.

I want to pay a brief tribute to this woman because she was, to borrow a phrase, the “complete package.” She was physically attractive, but she also was a kind, generous, gregarious, charming, smart individual. She was a devoted Aggie.

Above and beyond all of that, she was a proud and devoted mother to her son, Blake, who many of us watched grow into a wonderful man.

I once told Jo that she was an angel put on Earth by God to care for Blake, who was born with myriad challenges, but who overcame them to blossom into the fine man he has become. He owes everything to his mother.

Many years have passed since I last spoke with Jo Bagwell. She struggled through the last stages of her life on Earth. I am saddened beyond every emotion I can summon at the news I saw today. At my age of 75 I am going to keep looking at obituaries to keep up with the rite of passage we all must face eventually.

Damn, I do not want to be surprised soon in the manner this news hit me like a punch in the gut.

local news

Worst day spawns new life

The worst day of my life befell my family and me two years ago today.

My beloved bride, Kathy Anne, lost her battle with glioblastoma. Fifty-one years with this wonderful woman could not have been more glorious, adventuresome and thrilling as we watched our sons grow into the two finest men you’ll ever know. We also watched our granddaughter come into this world and she, too, is growing into a delightful young lady.

I am not going to dwell, though, on the sorrow. I am going to deal briefly with the journey I have taken on my way out of the darkness.

I took that journey largely on instruction from my bride, who told me that if she were to go first that she wanted me — she insisted on it — to find happiness. Do not wallow in grief, she said. Kathy Anne was a woman of conviction, which told me she meant what she said.

My life is still under reconstruction. I don’t know when I’ll be able to declare that my task is complete. Maybe it’ll never be done completely. Whatever. I am ready for whatever comes my way.

She prepared me well for this kind of journey. For that preparation I will be in her debt forever.

Every single person I have met, or will meet along the rest of this trek will know that I miss her. I just intend to tell the whole world, though, that despite her absence I will live every day as if it’s my final day on this good Earth.

That is my bride’s legacy.

local news

P.S.: Here’s how I knew I had licked it

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A brief post script is in order after I posted a blog item detailing how I quit smokint cigarettes cold turkey on Feb. 2, 1980. Here goes.

My father died in a boating accident in September 1980. We were shocked beyond all we could measure. The accident occurred in Gibsons, British Columbia, Canada. Two passengers of the boat died that evening: Dad and the owner of the boat; two others, friends of Dad, survived.

They recovered the remains of the driver of the boat that evening. Dad remained MIA. So, the owner of the company for which Dad worked arranged to fly me to Gibsons to stand by while the Royal Canadian Mounted Police searched for Dad’s remains.

I arrived at the camp where Dad had been staying and we were joined by some loggers who worked on other side of the inlet. We were served some stew that night for dinner.

Then the loggers began pouring the booze. We talked about Dad. One of the loggers paid me a nice compliment by telling me I had “guts” to come there. He also regaled me with his distate for French-Canadians; hey, I knew all about the regional distate between easteern and western Canadians.

They got me sh**-stinking drunk that night. I was wasted beyond belief. I could’ve lit up a smoke that night.,

But I didn’t!

I got through the bender beyond belief. I turned in for the night. I woke the next morning and then returned home to Portland.

I thanked my new friends for taking good care of me.

One more point: The Mounties didn’t find Dad’s remains while I was there. They recovered Dad a few days later.

This much I knew, which was that if I could endure the body-numbing pain of the loss we had suffered without lighting up … I was home free.