Category Archives: de rebus familiaribus

Texas high school football, just like in the movies

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west orange stark football championshipOur daughters (and their dad) got a crash course in Texas high school football yesterday when we attended the Class 4A Division II state championship, where Tracie P’s alma mater, the West Orange Stark Mustangs (14-1), beat the Celina (pronounced sah-LEE-nah) Bobcats (15-0) at Houston’s NRG stadium (where the pros play) 22-3.

That’s Georgia P (age 4), above, in the arms of her cousin Lesli (who lives in Los Angeles).

Everything you’ve ever heard about the high school football phenomenon in Texas? It’s true.

There were roughly 25 members of the Branch-Johnson side of our family in attendance, mostly from West Orange (where Tracie grew up a block away from campus) but also from Austin and Houston (and even one from California).

When I went to visit the restroom at halftime, an impromptu reunion of diaspora Mustangs alumni was taking place, with women and men and their families gleefully greeting each other and exchanging notes and hopes on the course of the game.

nrg stadium houstonOne thing that really impressed me about the experience was the fans’ ardent loyalty to the teams and the intensity of their cheer.

This was no mere social event or pageant intended to foster character among the young men on the field.

No, this was Texas football…

west orange stark football scoreThe other thing that impressed me was how nice and just downright polite everyone was.

That’s our daughter Lila Jane (2), above, btw.

As raucous as the crowd was, I didn’t hear or witness one tense exchange among the throng of people trying to reach their seats.

I ascribe the mood and air of sisterhood and brotherhood in part to the joy that Texans derive from the sporting experience.

But I also attribute it to Texans’ general attitude of friendliness and thoughtfulness when they gather.

This locus amoenus was a happy place where people — literally — from all walks of life came together to celebrate the fanfare and wholesome excitement of our state’s “national” pastime.

Congratulations to the Mustangs on a great season and a job well done!

I am a man who goes into women’s bathrooms in Houston

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houston equal rights amendmentAbove: at the airport in San Diego, the city where I grew up, there are three options at each bathroom station — one for people who identify as men, another for people who identify as women, and one for people who identify as transgender.

I identify as a man. I live in Houston and identify as a Houstonian. And I regularly use women’s bathrooms.

Yes, that’s right, I regularly use women’s bathrooms in Houston, my adoptive city and the city where voters yesterday rejected a city ordinance that would have allowed — among other things — for trans- and pan-gender persons to use the bathroom of their choice.

The 2014 Houston Equal Rights Ordinance, or HERO as it is known, was repealed by voters in Houston yesterday. I am one of those voters (my wife and I early-voted a week ago Monday) and I can now be thrown out of women’s bathrooms by restaurateurs and office building doorpeople and superintendents etc. 

Mostly I use women’s bathrooms in Houston when I visit restaurants. There is a good reason for that.

Actually there are two good reasons for that: Georgia P (nearly age 4) and Lila Jane (age 2), our daughters, can’t yet “go to the potty” by themselves.

So when we eat in restaurants after our Saturday and Sunday visits to the zoo, NASA (the “real astronauts” as it is known in the Parzen familiar lexicon), or the Natural Science Museum (the “dinosaurs” and “butterflies”), I often take both of them into women’s bathrooms for Georgia P to go tee-tee (she’s potty trained) or to change Lila Jane’s diaper.

Generally, the women I meet in Houston bathrooms are very sweet to us and greet us with a smile. As a matter of fact, ever since we moved to Houston a year and a half ago and ever since Georgia P potty trained and she began using the “big girl” potty, no one has ever complained about us using the women’s bathroom. But, evidently, that’s no longer kosher in the city where we live.

I’ve also taken the girls into men’s rooms. But now, without the protection of HERO, we could be thrown out of those, too!

I’m not sure where the new state of equal rights leaves us. Squatting behind our minivan in the parking lot? Occasionally, I need to go to the bathroom when I’m out with the girls, too. They really don’t (self) identify as anything at this point but I know that other Houstonians identify them as females. I can only imagine what people are going to think when they see me urinating on the street because I can’t take them into the men’s room and they can’t be accompanied by me in the women’s room now.

I’m sure that most Houston restaurateurs won’t mind when I take them into the women’s room or they come with me into the men’s room.

I guess at this point our girls and I will just have to take our chances…

The good, bad, and the cute: Parzen family update

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the-refBetween travel, Tracie P’s birthday, and the myriad wines we’ve tasted this month, I realized that I haven’t posted about our girls in a while. So I wanted to share these photos here.

They see their mommy and daddy suit up (whenever we can) to go running and Georgia P expressed an interest in “exercise.” So a few weekends ago we went and got them their now beloved soccer balls.

We’ve started kicking them around when we go out for walks and in our front yard. Although Georgia P (above, left) sometimes seems more interested in her referee’s whistle and Lila Jane (right) in her accessories.

georgia lawn chairAside from the storms last weekend, the weather has been really nice in Houston. That’s Georgia P (above) in the backyard of the house we rent here in Westbury in the southwest corner of the city.

She’s been enjoying her pre-school where she attends three days a week.

Next week she’ll be getting her new ballet shoes and starting her first ballet class (and she doesn’t know this yet but we’re taking them to see their first Nutcracker in December; Houston has an awesome ballet, btw).

Just look at those long dancer’s legs! She’ll be four in December.

lila jane voteLila Jane started her first year of pre-school this fall. She goes two days a week.

It seems that she has a language explosion nearly every single day and her vocabulary and the clarity of her enunciation have been really impressive (at least from the perspective of her adoring parents!).

She turned two in July. That’s her outside our early polling station (where her mommy and daddy voted). She just loves that soccer ball.

butterfliesOne of our favorite things to do on weekends is to visit the Cockerell Butterfly Center at Houston’s Natural Science Museum.

Walking through the “tropical rain forest” atrium with them is a truly magical experience and they love to pretend to be butterflies and bees when we reach the honeycomb landscape at the end of the exhibit.

They’re both going to be butterflies for Halloween tomorrow (unless they change their minds and decide to be Elsa and Anna, although Lila Jane has toyed with the idea of being Wonder Woman).

Both girls are so sweet and they bring so much joy into our lives.

Thanks for letting me share them with you here. Have a great (and safe) Halloween weekend!

Microaggression and my Houston apologia

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houston hermann park conservatoryAbove: my family at the Hermann Park Conservancy in Houston last year, not long after we moved here from Austin.

12,000+ views, 2,000+ Facebook shares, and 28 comments later, it’s still going strong… When I published it a week ago Sunday, I never imagined that my post “You’re from Houston? I’m so sorry” would have generated such a response.

When she shared it on her Facebook on Thursday, Houstonia magazine managing editor Katharine Shilcutt (and one of my editors there) wrote: “it’s always heartwarming to see non-natives become Houston apologists.”

Katharine, a Houston native, is a friend and one of the writers and editors I admire most on the food scene here. It was a thrill to discover that she enjoyed the post enough to share it with her legions of followers.

And today, the post was featured on the Houston Chronicle “Opportunity Urbanist” blog.

Honestly, I never intended the post as a panegyric.
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I left my heart in Houston…

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bush airport united terminalIt seems like it was just yesterday that I walked through this terminal with you on my shoulders.

“Look at all the people, daddy! Look at the airplane, daddy! Daddy, daddy, daddy, we’re going to blast off!”

In fact, it was earlier this week that your sister, mother, you, and I returned from our unforgettable trip to California together.

From the “school bus” that I rode from the parking lot to the pizza concession where we shared a slice (you cheese, me pepperoni), every footstep and every terminal announcement remind me that I won’t be seeing you for another fourteen days.

All the old folks tell me, “cherish these precious days with your little ones; they’ll be grown before you know it.”

I’ll be counting the days, the hours, and the minutes until I’m reunited with you, sweet girl.

Wish me luck, wish me speed. And keep my heart safe for me here in Houston because I simply can’t take it with me…

best beach in del mar california

La Jolla won’t annoy ya… California, here we come!

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la jolla california blacks beachThat’s Black’s Beach in the photo, above, one of California’s most famous nudist beaches — at least when I was growing up in La Jolla in the 1970 and 80s.

It’s also a great surf spot and when I was a kid, they used to take generators and beer kegs down there and put on some pretty rowdy rock shows (for real).

When you hang out at the Torrey Pines Glider Port above, you can often see the silhouettes of manta rays and dolphins swimming in the clear waters below.

In the distance, you can see one high-rise on the point. That’s the La Jolla Cove and the building is “939” on Coast Blvd., where my grandparents once lived and where my mother still lives to this day.

We’re heading there tomorrow for a long weekend with my family: our niece Amalia will be bat mitzvah on Saturday and we’ll be there for the services and party.

It’s a big occasion for our family for another reason. Most of our California family has never met Lila Jane, who just turned two. So it will be wonderful for them to get to know the Texas side of our family a little better.

As much as I love being a Texan, being married to a gorgeous and generously loving Texan, and raising our beautiful little Texans, Californian is still who and what I am.

I’m lucky that I get to spend so much time there and thrilled to be taking the girls there at this time of year.

As Mel Tormé says in his wonderful operetta “California Suite,” La Jolla won’t annoy ya… (here’s the link to moment when the song “La Jolla” appears and the entire work — give it a listen! — is embedded below).

Tomorrow night we’ll all fall asleep to the sound of waves crashing on the Children’s Pool. And Friday morning we’ll take the girls to see the seals who sunbath on the sand there (Lila Jane, in particular, is really excited about that!).

Thanks for being here. I’ll see you next week.

In the meantime, SURF’S UP!

A letter to my daughters on my 48th birthday

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new binocularsGeorgia P and Lila Jane, my sweet girls.

Today is my forty-eighth birthday.

I wish I were at home with you today to celebrate. But I’m traveling for work this week in California, where I grew up and went to school. We’ll celebrate together when I get back.

It’s so incredible to think about how much the world has changed from the time I was your age until now.

When I was your ages, we had rotary-dial telephones, vinyl record players, and televisions.

Today, we watch music videos of astronauts on the International Space Station and listen to our favorite songs on high-resolution smart phones that are thinner than a chocolate bar.

The first astronauts to reach the moon landed there when I was about Lila Jane’s age and 8-track tapes hadn’t even been invented yet!

The world has changed a lot in the nearly half a century since I was born.

And today, even in the short time since mommy gave birth to you, the world continues to change at breakneck speed.

Over the last few weeks alone, our family has witnessed some remarkable cultural and social milestones in our country that neither mommy nor I could have even imagined when we first met each other in 2008.

Affordable health care for the less fortunate among us; marriage equality that will help bolster family life and remove a stigma from many of our sisters and brothers; and a new dialogue on racism in our country that — mommy and I hope — will make our country a much better place to live for all people.

I’m more proud of being an American than I ever have been. You are Americans, too. And I’m glad that you two are growing up in a world more tolerant than the one that mommy and I grew up in.

Our family and our life together make me think a lot about how the world has changed and how it is changing every day.

You are changing and growing, too: every day you surprise mommy and me with new vocabulary, new games you like to play, and puzzles you solve. And every weekend, when we play music and sing in my office, you amaze me with how quickly you learn new melodies.

But more than anything else, you both amaze mommy and me with your sweetness and your empathy. We’ve seen both of you take care of one another when you’re hurt or sad. And we love the sweet kisses, caresses, and pats on the back that you give us to show us that you love us.

Today, I’m forty-eight years old and I couldn’t be more proud to be your father. You fill our lives with light and joy and I can truly say that these years, since you were born, have been the very best of my life. I never could have imagined the change that you would have brought into our lives. And every day, I know I am blessed to be here with you and mommy.

Thank you for the best birthday I’ve ever had, sweet girls. Thank you. I love you.

Daddy

binoculars for kids

The Confederate flag and me

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In 1968, a year after I was born in the South Side of Chicago at Michael Reese hospital, Bobby Rush founded the Illinois chapter of the Black Panther Party. Institutionalized violence against black men in urban areas in the U.S. was so severe that Rush and his fellows felt compelled to arm themselves to protect their communities.

But there were no Confederate flags displayed in the city at that time — at least I can’t remember any.

In 1970, my family moved to gilded La Jolla, California, where Jews had been excluded from buying property until a University of California campus was established there in 1960.

There was only one black kid in my class at Bird Rock Elementary. His name was Michael Green and he and I were friends.

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The cycle of life: hag sameach and happy Easter to all

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recipe shank passover beefAbove: in preparation for Erev Pesach tomorrow, I roasted a beef shank early this morning. I rubbed the shank with kosher salt and then extra-virgin olive oil. Then I roasted it in a 450° F. oven for 30 minutes to get it brown and crispy on the outside and finished for another 30 minutes at 350°. And yes, wow, whole wheat matzot! I could have never imagined that when I was a kid…

“Meet Annia Lucilla, our easter lamb, a true Roman,” wrote my friend Hande yesterday in a post on her Facebook. She’s a top Italian wine educator who grew up in Turkey and now lives and works in Rome. “Getting to know my meat before it hits my plate reminds me of the sacrifice feasts of my childhood.”

I thought of her post early this morning, Texas time, when I got up before the girls so that I could roast a beef shank for our Passover seder tomorrow night.

Of course, I didn’t get to meet the cow whose shank I bought yesterday at a local market. And we’re going to be having Jewish-style brisket for our main course tomorrow night: the shank serves solely as a symbolic component — the centerpiece — of our seder plate.

But her note and my own “sacrificial lamb” remind me of how the Passover, Easter, and the renewal and rebirth of spring are ancient traditions that bind us together in our humanity.

This year, Erev Pesach (the first night of the Passover) falls on Good Friday. The confluence reminds us that Easter has its roots in the Passover (most agree that Jesus’ “Last Supper” was a Passover celebration).

And Passover — as Jewish scholars widely acknowledge — has its roots in ancient pagan celebrations of spring.

In the Passover legend, the z’roa is a symbol of the Pesach sacrifice, a lamb that was offered by the ancient Jews in the Temple of Jerusalem on the first night the Passover festival. But the expiatory sacrifice of a lamb in springtime dates back to the Romans and beyond.

Just think of it: in a time before monotheism, the arrival of spring and warmer temperatures and the renewal of the vegetative cycle were gifts from the gods.

(On Saturday, btw, my client Bele Casel in Asolo posted an image of first bud break on its blog.)

It’s not hard to imagine why they were inspired to slaughter a lamb as an offering.

Here at the Parzen household, we’ll be celebrating the Passover tomorrow night with my mother, who’s flying in for the holiday. And then we’ll be heading to Orange in East Texas to paint Easter eggs and celebrate the holiday with Tracie P’s family.

I’ll be taking a break from the blog and from work until next week as I reconnect with family and recharge my spirits: it’s a time for renewal and rebirth.

O and we’ll be pairing 2013 Cirelli Montepulciano d’Abruzzo with our brisket tomorrow night.

Hag sameach — happy festival — and happy Easter to all! See you next week…