"What?"

            My hearing issues with tinnitus span decades of “that’s the way it is” acceptance. A few years ago, large groups and noisy classrooms meant I guessed at words and phrases unless the speaker stood straight before me. Frankly, once I stepped away from crowded rooms, I stopped noticing the decline in my hearing ability.            
            Until this last year, that is. When I sit in the back seat of the car, any conversations from up front dodge back to me with uncertainty. At first, I excused my inability to discern conversations because music played around us, and my family members faced forward. Explanations I chimed to myself to avoid the inevitable. The other day, I begged my husband to repeat numbers to me as we worked our monthly budget. “Was that a five? Or a nine?” If he doesn’t turn to face me directly, I’ll have to ask again.            
            I know that’s clearly a sign that things have changed more than I’d like to admit.  I need to have a long talk with my physician during my annual exam this summer. I can convince myself that not having to ask “What?” a billion times a day will add quality to my life. If hearing aids become my newest dip into elderly fashion, I will embrace them with cool self-confidence. After all, it’s still better than all of those years I wore braces!

Copyright 2024 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman 

            

“Cluster Fuck: Flooding in San Antonio”

 

Lake does its job!

            The City of Live Oak, Texas designed a huge flood control park in 1971, that evolved over the years into a facility that offers 75 acres that enhance family life for all in the area. The overall focus of the park, though, is water management. I don’t know how many times I’ve bragged that Live Oak doesn’t flood when the rest of San Antonio deals with the sudden rivers of flashflood devastation. Wide concrete culverts crisscross our small town with the purpose of collecting rain water during flooding and funneling everything to the Main City Park. This system has worked successfully, with only a few homes that sit on lower streets getting water into their homes if a deluge of daily rain descends into the San Antonio area. Most of us sit high and dry even when the culverts flow like a river to the park.
            On the night of June 12^th, more than seven inches drowned various sections of San Antonio. The usual areas that suffer from flash flooding predictably found cars trapped, and thirteen people died from fast rising water tossing their vehicles like toys into creeks. Massive highway construction down the I35 corridor brought a river of water into our usually safe neighborhood. The barriers guarding the roads funneled the torrent onto the first available culvert, which filled rapidly, and spilled onto two streets. The green areas around our highway no longer exist as mountains of gravel and concrete grow instead. Equipment necessary for construction blocked every area of green, forcing runoff into new and unexpected areas.
            The tragedy of progress translated into deaths and destruction.

Family flooded out

Bridge damaged from water

Gravel from highway construction

Copyright 2025 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman
           

"Norm!"

 

         We love eating out. Our weekly budget allocates one eat out per week unless we do an extraordinarily thrifty grocery run. Then we can manage another visit to one of our favorite places.

         Over the years, we’ve two places that we’ll visit weekly. Alternating between Greek food at Papouli’s Greek Grill and Mexican food at La Fiesta Patio Café. Our frequent visits mean we earn free meals from both places, allowing us to indulge even more.

         At one point, the owner of Papouli’s would try new menu items with my son and husband offering feedback. He’s helped us celebrate birthdays and anniversaries. We’ve even catered Christmas dinner because, you know, not everyone likes turkey!

         Last night, upon entering La Fiesta Patio Café (Patio Café in our house), the entire staff cheered and waved. All three of us broke into laughter and simultaneously chimed, “Norm!” as we approached our table for three. The waitress carried over our drinks, chips and salsa but didn’t bother with a menu. She knew we’ve memorized everything on their list. Sometimes, all three of us crave their veggie chalupas and will order the same meal. Today found us yearning for different things.

         Many evenings, the staff will amble over to chat with us about movies or their weekend plans if the place isn’t too busy. We’ve slipped into the habit of looking forward to the company as well as the food.

        

 Copyright 2018 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

        Our favorite Mexican restaurant closed its doors a few weeks ago. This year keeps hitting us with losses that remind me of the importance of treasuring traditions. Our table for three no longer awaits us. The staff that helped us celebrate special days, and also just a simple weekely eat-out, no longer lightens our days. Papoul's Greek Grill still ramains, but we worry that this tough economy with irresponsible political decisions and tariffs will overwhelm this restaurant, too. For us, our own spending habits have tightened up to absorb the higher grocery bills we're experiencing. I fret that soon, we won't have special places that greet us like Norm. 

Coppyright 2025 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman      

        

  

“Look, Look!”

 

 

             A deluge last night dumped five inches of rain at our home!
        As soon as our cloudy morning allowed, I grabbed my iPhone for the first round of pictures. By tomorrow, the drenched clover out front, along with various plants and flowering bushes, should burst into even more color. Nature’s renewal cleansed my flagging spirit.
            I am sad.
            I am hurt.
            I am frustrated.
            I am anxious.
            I am lost.
          Yet one night of thunder and lightning, of rain washing away the sins of the world, fills my soul with hope again.

 

Copyright 2025 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman

"Who Hurt You?"

 

Your protective barrier blocks your humanity
It defends your liberties by oppressing those you fear
It allows you to shriek, “Unfair! Unfair!” while your child dies alone
It enfolds you within your fake holiness
It weaves your soul into heartless cruelty
 
Who made you so scared all the time?
Who betrayed your wants and needs?
Who cheated and broke your heart?
Who corrupted your compassion?
Who hurt you?
 

Copyright 2025 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman