Mary Spradlin 🌻

Can't believe my Mom didn't keep my satin jacket, or the t-shirt that had his face ironed onto it....What will I wear to see @Shaunpcassidy tonight? #firstcrush

@gwoman9810 Bless you, Martha. You are doing hard things with love. ❤️

I got Dad’s depends and pants off then cleaned him, removed the absorbent pads under him and replaced them and his pants and depends with all fresh ones. Then I told him he is surrounded with love and I’m with him on this journey to the end of the path where Mom will be waiting. I know he heard me because he said her and the other 2 referring to the 2 stillborn babies they had. Well one lived for 45 minutes. I had to leave the room and compose myself. I’ve fought terrorists and gangs and spies. I am a sick 9/11 responder with Complex PTSD. I went to Afghanistan with the FBI and saw awful and heartbreaking things. This is way harder #FuckCancer #MDS #caregiver 😔💔🥺

@rodjnaquin As an advocate for public education, I read a lot of education posts on X. Most contain the usual “haters gonna hate” comments (I live in Texas, after all). But such comments are lacking in posts like this, because what can you say when the chaos is all too real? #pastors4txkids

I'm fascinated by Mary Kennedy's work because she shows why school reforms keep failing. It's not that teachers resist change—it's that reformers don't understand classroom reality. Teachers aren't leading calm seminars; they're managing 30 kids with constant interruptions, time pressure, and a million logistics. When reforms ignore this chaos and propose idealized methods, they're doomed. Teachers want to improve, but they have to keep the class actually functioning, which means the beautiful new approach often can't survive contact with real students and real constraints. amazon.com/Inside-Teachin…

The lowest estimate for the lowest level of coverage for ONE adult in a household of three with one income: $1,034/month for, basically, catastrophic coverage. Our healthcare system is beyond broken.

@BiblicalBeauty My son loved Nathan Hale’s graphic novels (and I did, too)! a.co/d/hLeu7I4

Are any of you coming up with any great gift ideas for a boy in the 7-9 year range which are neither toys nor electronic devices that you’d like to tell the class about? 😁

And when the charter schools fail them, many families turn to their local public school, which takes all kids in their zone, and operates with fewer and fewer resources…. #pastors4txkuds

The State owned Bluebonnet Learning Curriculum formerly known as Texas Amplify undermines local control by incentivizing schools with financial rewards. Parents and communities, not the state, should decide what’s best for their children. #LocalControl #RejectBluebonnet  @TXSBOE @willhickman @KevenEllisDC

@eevblog Sahara

Dude movie night. I need a classic suggestion. Had to rule out Running Man, Total Recall, Robocop, and Predator. Not quite age appropriate yet I think. 14yo and 10yo. Throw suggestions at me....

@gwoman9810 I hear you. Nothing prepares you for this.

I never could’ve imagined how difficult being the caregiver of an elderly parent really is. I have massive respect for anyone who’s been through it. My Dad has completely changed since we got home from the hospital. He started out wanting to be as active as possible to now he doesn’t want to get out of bed or eat. I’m trying everything I can but don’t want to push him too hard. It’s just really difficult to watch. I told him I’m being a little pushy but it’s out of love and wanting to keep him in his own home but it might get to the point where I’m getting more in the way than helping him. It is brutal to watch the man who coached me in softball and basketball and told me to shake it off and get back in the game live like he is now. He encouraged me (the eternal tomboy) to do things usually only boys did setting up the framework for my choosing a career in law enforcement as a cop then FBI agent. It’s not living it’s just existing. Bless him ❤️❤️

@Mikehomeseller 1972 Ford Maverick Grabber, three on the tree (and blistering hot in the Texas sun!)

WHAT CAR DID YOU LEARN TO DRIVE STICK IN? #mikesquestions

@KellyRasti So easy for #txlege to schedule critical hearings when public ed professionals cannot attend. They have to live with the laws made by non-educators. Why shouldn’t they be able to hire lobbyists to represent their interests?

"My name's Raymond. I'm 73. I work the parking lot at St. Joseph's Hospital. Minimum wage, orange vest, a whistle I barely use. Most people don't even look at me. I'm just the old man waving cars into spaces. But I see everything. Like the black sedan that circled the lot every morning at 6 a.m. for three weeks. Young man driving, grandmother in the passenger seat. Chemotherapy, I figured. He'd drop her at the entrance, then spend 20 minutes hunting for parking, missing her appointments. One morning, I stopped him. "What time tomorrow?" "6:15," he said, confused. "Space A-7 will be empty. I'll save it." He blinked. "You... you can do that?" "I can now," I said. Next morning, I stood in A-7, holding my ground as cars circled angrily. When his sedan pulled up, I moved. He rolled down his window, speechless. "Why?" "Because she needs you in there with her," I said. "Not out here stressing." He cried. Right there in the parking lot. Word spread quietly. A father with a sick baby asked if I could help. A woman visiting her dying husband. I started arriving at 5 a.m., notebook in hand, tracking who needed what. Saved spots became sacred. People stopped honking. They waited. Because they knew someone else was fighting something bigger than traffic. But here's what changed everything, A businessman in a Mercedes screamed at me one morning. "I'm not sick! I need that spot for a meeting!" "Then walk," I said calmly. "That space is for someone whose hands are shaking too hard to grip a steering wheel." He sped off, furious. But a woman behind him got out of her car and hugged me. "My son has leukemia," she sobbed. "Thank you for seeing us." The hospital tried to stop me. "Liability issues," they said. But then families started writing letters. Dozens. "Raymond made the worst days bearable." "He gave us one less thing to break over." Last month, they made it official. "Reserved Parking for Families in Crisis." Ten spots, marked with blue signs. And they asked me to manage it. But the best part? A man I'd helped two years ago, his mother survived, came back. He's a carpenter. Built a small wooden box, mounted it by the reserved spaces. Inside? Prayer cards, tissues, breath mints, and a note, "Take what you need. You're not alone. -Raymond & Friends" People leave things now. Granola bars. Phone chargers. Yesterday, someone left a hand-knitted blanket. I'm 73. I direct traffic in a hospital parking lot. But I've learned this: Healing doesn't just happen in operating rooms. Sometimes it starts in a parking space. When someone says, "I see your crisis. Let me carry this one small piece." So pay attention. At the grocery checkout, the coffee line, wherever you are. Someone's drowning in the little things while fighting the big ones. Hold a door. Save a spot. Carry the weight no one else sees. It's not glamorous. But it's everything." Let this story reach more hearts.... Credit: Mary Nelson

The TX State Board of Education signed an emergency contract to hire Tim Davis, former general counsel of the Tarrant County GOP and now candidate for chairman. I previously reported that four local school boards taken over by well-financed right wing candidates also hired Davis.

@silverpebble I found your tiny owl!😊

My brain’s not well at all today-depression, but I made this photo to try to lift my dark thoughts & have hidden a tiny owl in it. If you find it &/or your brain likes this image maybe let me know below? Connecting with other humans is another way to lift very low mood 🌿

@DFWJodyDean I grew up hearing her sweet laugh on the radio. She spread a lot of joy.

Suzie Humphreys left us this morning. If you didn't grow up hearing her on Dallas-Fort Worth radio, that name may be unfamiliar - but there never was and never will be her like again. soundcloud.com/jody-dean-3141…

School funding has not increased anywhere near the pace of unfunded mandates, technology req’s, dramatic rise in insurance costs in Texas, & other costs the ISDs can’t control. It’s time to elect a governor who is not actively working to dismantle our public schools.

"I’m 79. My name’s Agnes. I walk to Oakwood Elementary every Tuesday and Thursday at 2:45 p.m. Not for my grandkids, I don’t have any. I go for them. The kids waiting for parents who are late. Again. It started three years ago. I saw Miguel sitting alone on the school’s concrete steps, tracing math problems in the dirt with a stick. His mom worked double shifts at the canning factory. His homework was smudged with tears. I didn’t say much. Just pulled a folding chair from my tote bag (I carry it everywhere, bad knees) and sat beside him. "Show me where you’re stuck, mijo," I said. He flinched like I’d startled a bird. But he showed me. I was a teacher for 42 years. Fractions, state capitals, how to hold a pencil, I know them like my own heartbeat. That day, we solved 3 problems in the dirt. When his mom finally rushed up, breathless and apologizing, I just nodded. "He’s got a good mind," I told her. Her eyes got wet. Not from sadness. From being seen. Next week, I brought my old teacher’s stool and a clipboard. Set up under the oak tree across from the school gates. No sign. No fanfare. Just me, my red pen, and a jar of butterscotch candies. Kids started coming. Not all at once. First Miguel. Then Aisha, whose dad’s truck broke down again. Jamal, who whispered, "My grandma’s sick." I never asked why parents were late. I just opened my clipboard. Some days, I only helped one child. Other days, five crowded around my stool. I taught multiplication tables while braiding Maya’s hair. Showed Leo how to write his name in cursive on a foggy window. Never took money. Never called the school. This wasn’t their job. It was ours. Then came Mrs. Chen. She stood at the edge of the sidewalk for weeks, watching her daughter Linh hover near my bench but never approach. One rainy Thursday, Mrs. Chen finally walked over. Her hands shook. "I failed school," she admitted in broken English. "I can’t help her." I slid my stool aside. "Sit," I said. "Today, you do the math. I’ll hold the umbrella." Last month, the principal found me packing up in the rain. "We’ve had complaints," he said gently. "About ‘unauthorized tutoring.’" I braced for the end. But then Linh ran over, dragging her mother. Aisha brought her little brother. Miguel stood tall beside his mom, the one who once cried on the steps. Twelve parents and kids formed a circle around my soggy stool. "This bench stays," Miguel told the principal. "Or we all leave." Today, the PTA provides the folding chairs. Retired nurses check kids’ ears for infections. A barber gives free trims. But the homework bench? That’s still mine. Last Tuesday, Linh placed a college acceptance letter on my clipboard. "You taught me numbers," she said. "But you taught Mama something bigger." She pointed to Mrs. Chen, now helping a boy sound out words. "You taught us we’re not broken." I packed up my red pen that night, my hands steady for the first time in years. Here’s what nobody tells you about growing old, The world doesn’t need your savings or your spare room. It needs your stubborn, ordinary love. Show up. Sit down. Make space. The rest will grow around you like wildflowers through concrete.” Let this story reach more hearts.... By Mary Nelson