Man on the Moon
We choose to go to the moon. We choose to go to the moon in this decade and do the other things, not because they are easy, but because they are hard, because that goal will serve to organize and measure the best of our energies and skills, because that challenge is one that we are willing to accept, one we are unwilling to postpone, and one which we intend to win, and the others, too.
JFK, Houston, September 12, 1962
Forty years ago we landed men on the moon. A culmination of a decade long goal. A goal established to advance science. A goal that was hard to achieve. A goal that seemed unimaginable. A goal made of dreams.
Today our generation lacks the commitment to repeat the same, lacks the stamina to plan and complete long tasks, lacks the wisdom to admit that there are problems that must be tackled today. Problems that can be solved while they are only hard, not impossible.
Lucky Me.
Five years ago, me and
Mrs. Jones
said I do.
Sing It!
Last night while trying to get Hailey to go to sleep she told me to sing the bumblebee song. I told her I didn’t know what that was so I couldn’t sing it. Hailey decided to sing it to me. She started, I’m bringing home a baby bumblebee, and then stopped.
Your hands! My hands? Your hands, she said cupping hers together. Oh, I said, you want me to do my hands like yours? Yes, she started singing again, I’m bringing home a baby bumblebee, won’t my mommy be so proud of me.
She stopped, clapped, and said yeah. She looked at me and said, “Clap!” So I clapped and said yeah. We then repeated singing the bumblebee song for the next hour, or so it seems.
Got It!
Hailey does everything herself these days. She will do something like get off the bed and you will offer to help her by saying, “Can I help you?” and she will reply back, “No, got it.” If Hailey gets stuck and needs a hand she will ask, “a little help?” or “Daddy, help you?”
She also has a heart melting way of saying hi. When you sit next to her she will say, “Hi, Hi Dadda.” But she doesn’t just use this heart-melting welcome on people. We also hear, “Hi, Hi Lu-lu”, “Hi, my Cookie Monster”, and “Hi, Hi ‘tasha.”
Hailey’s favorite movie is Finding Nemo. In the last month I bet I have watched it over 50 times. It’s the first thing she wants to see when she gets home from school. No other movie will do. When Mr. Ray sings the song about the zones she will start singing with him. When the child on Mr. Ray’s back goes, “Oh man.” She will say it out loud as well. She even screams when the fish scream right after the diver pops up behind Nemo.
Four Years
St. Patrick’s day means Brianna and I have been married for four whole years. Longer than any pair of socks that she owns.
Tahiti
Remember I Dream of Jeannie? Whenever Jeannie granted a wish she would nod her head up, then down. Then poof Major Nelson would be in Tahiti or six inches tall and stuck inside Jeannie’s bottle.
Whenever Hailey wants something out of the pantry or refrigerator, she will say yes and then nod her head up and down in a very stiff motion. Each time she does this, I half expect the poof and I am in Tahiti, or six inches tall and running from Natasha.
If it ever happens, we better hope for Tahiti. I don’t want to get eaten by Natasha.
Family Pictures of Roscoe
The day before the funeral, I was conscribed into service as the scanner operator. I scanned a few family photographs for the picture montage. Using the wonders of a satellite internet connection, I copied them to the dustyjones.com server so I could share them with you. With time, we may get them organized better.
Roscoe’s Obituary
Meredith wrote an obituary for Roscoe that occupied 1/6th of the obituary page in the paper.
Roscoe Ronald Conoley Jan. 17, 1925 – Nov. 22, 2004
Roscoe Conoley, age 79, died at his home Monday November 22 after an extended illness.
Roscoe was born on January 17, 1925, in rural Milam County to Francis R. Conoley and Cordelia M. (Beard) Conoley. He was the fifth child of what would be six born to the Conoleys. At the time of his birth and until the last son was born, Roscoe was thought to be the late Conoley child and was nicknamed “Baby” by the family and this is how he would be known from then on.
He was preceded in death by his parents, one sister Nell, two brothers Alexander (Alec) Hamilton and Eugene (Ken) Kenyon, and one son Ronald (Ronnie) Craig Conoley.
He is survived by his wife of 57 years Gladys (Marie) Conoley, three children, son Francis (Frank) Michael Conoley, his wife Pat and daughter Shannon of Mulberry, Florida, daughter Sanna L. Conoley, her partner Elizabeth of Thorndale, Texas, her son Eric Burke and daughter Brianna (Burke) Jones of Austin, Texas, a son Meredith Conoley, his wife Lisa and daughters Jill and Amy of Round Rock, Texas.
He is also survived by his brother, Rufus K. Conoley, his wife Nadine of Houston, and brother Ralph M. Conoley and his wife Helen of Silver Springs, Maryland. The legacy of Roscoe will live on through seven grandchildren and five great-grandchildren.
Born from the Great Depression in tough rural conditions, Roscoe was taught the early lessons of hard work, honesty, and determination by his parents and siblings. Though times were tough the family was fortunate to have a unique blend of toughness and good natured spirit to get through the hard times by building a treasure chest of stories work and play to share with the later generations.
As a member of what would become “The Greatest Generation,” Roscoe headed the call of his counter in 1944 and joined the Allied troops in Europe as part of the 101st Cannon Company in France and Germany. Roscoe received the Purple Heart for wounds received during battle in France in 1945.
After the war Roscoe returned to Texas and enrolled at The University of Texas in Austin where he graduated in 1950 with a Bachelor of Arts Degree in Mathematics. It was during this time that he met his wife-to-be, Marie Young, on a blind date. This blind date carried on to marriage on August 30, 1947. The next 57 years were full of joy and challenges and passed all too fast.
Roscoe and Marie returned to Thorndale in 1950 to be closer to Roscoe’s aging parents. Roscoe served as the Rural Letter Mail Carrier for the Thorndale area for 31 years. During this time he was also a bookkeeper of C.A. Forbes and Co.
Roscoe believed in serving the community for the greater good. Never was this more demonstrated than in his efforts with other community leaders to lead the desegregation of the Thorndale school district that culminated in the building of a new High School Complex in 1966. This was a very difficult time for the Community but Roscoe worked with many others to bring this transition through in a peaceful manner not seen elsewhere. Thorndale ISD and the community at large became a model for others to follow.
Upon retirement from the U.S. Postal Service in 1989 Roscoe continued his community involvement by accepting the position of City Manager for Thorndale. Following his belief that good health starts by taking care of “what comes in and goes out” he developed and administered projects to provide a modern sewage treatment facility for Thorndale and secured water rights and improvements to the water transportation network to ensure a long-lasting safe water supply. Roscoe retired from the City of Thorndale in 2000.
Though Roscoe believed in hard work, and you would often find him behind a push mower taking care of his two acre yard, he equally enjoyed having fun and the company of friends and family. He leaves behind a tremendous volume of stories, anecdotes, and sayings that he shared with all who had the great fortune to know him. He loved spending his free time with friends, family, and especially his grandchildren. His local golfing group will sorely miss the times spent on the gold course followed by enjoying Roscoe’s favorite pastime – having a cold beer after a hot round of golf.
The family would like to express their sincere and heartfelt thanks to everyone who stopped by, called, wrote letters, and provided so much comfort and love during this very difficult time. We would extend a special thank you to a group of incredibly caring and wonderful folks at Lone Star Hospice, especially Carol and Jan.
A memorial service conducted by the Rev. Don Elrod will be held a Condar Funeral Home in Taylor, Texas at 2:00 p.m., Saturday November 27th, Honorary pallbearers, Ricky Melde, Floyd Zuehlke Jr., Robert Lindermann, Ted Westerman II, Wynn D. Scruggs, W. E. “Bill” Burke III, Joel Wilkerson. A celebration of Roscoe’s life will follow at the Thorndale Senior Center. In lieu of flowers, Roscoe requested donations to Thorndale Cares, Lone Start Hospice, or the charity of your choice.
Roscoe Conoley 1925-2004
The sky is gray, cold, damp, and wet. It has been raining for hours. The roads are flooded, the fields are muddy, and the tank is overflowing. We pulled up to the house and see the black hearse in the driveway. Inside two men strugle as they try to move Roscoe from the bed. Brianna rushes by to give him a kiss on the forehead and to tell him goodbye one last time. He is just two months shy of 80 years old.
Just 271 days ago, it was February and everything was going well. Hailey was learning to walk and was recovering from the respiratory problems she had in December and January. On the 25th we learned some very bad news. There was something in Roscoe’s lung. It could be Tuberculoses or a tumor. Roscoe, given the choice between Tuberculoses and lung cancer, hoped for lung cancer.
He was our emergency baby sitter. Whenever Hailey was sick and couldn’t go to daycare, we could make a call, at any hour, and Roscoe would be on his way. He had been watching Hailey and didn’t want to be responsible for giving his great granddaughter Tuberculoses.
Hailey didn’t get Tuberculoses. Roscoe didn’t have it to give it to her. He had lung cancer. Brianna took the news hard. I had to go and pick her up at work that day.
Roscoe was a very active man. He worked in his garden and mowed his enormous yard, with a traditional walk behind lawnmower, each week of the summer until this last one. I tried it only once. It was too much work for me. I had to use the tractor to be as efficient. As the cancer spread, he could no longer be active. He couldn’t pick up Hailey, he couldn’t stand, even sitting became painful.
Hailey loved this man. When she sees someone with gray hair she says papa. When she sees his house she screams papa and wants to go inside. I hope that as she grows older she remembers him and how much he cared for her.
The two men put Roscoe’s body onto the stretcher and push it out the front door. They are hampered as they try to get out the door. They struggle to get around the corner. Once outside, they fight with the muddy ground before finally getting into the hearse.
Godspeed Roscoe we love and will miss you.
Catching Up
Instead of sleeping, I am sitting at the computer resizing photographs and typing entries into the database. Sometimes I don’t know if I should just keep the posts in the order that I enter them, or if I should edit the dates for the days that they actually occur. Tonight I choose to edit the dates. You will find out of order posts at River House, Cupcakes!, My Birthday, Hailey wearing her play outfit, Hailey on the 4th, and 5th of July, A trip to San Antonio, Hailey with her keyboard, and a Wedding in Laredo.
Some More Photographs
Brianna and I love to rummage through boxes of old photographs. We found these hiding at my mom’s house.
Roommates and Blind Dates
“Here’s to Chinese splits, lost bets, roommates, first dates, and five years with you,” read the card on the flowers sent to Brianna to celebrate our anniversary.
32
Today is Dusty Jones Day, I am the ripe old age of 32 and can begin my journey through the Rolling Rock™ year.
Wow
It’s been almost 30 days since I last updated this site. Some may think that I have simply fallen off earth. Others may think, or are hoping, that I have been abducted by space aliens. The truth is that none of the aforementioned doomsday scenarios have come to pass. Instead, I am my own victim.
At work I have been busy getting my unrulely and overwhelming project back on the road to success. At times, coding this project is tedious and mind numbingly boring. Other times doing something clever and non-obvious makes the job fun again.
At home I have been busy with household chores. We have moved the office from upstairs to downstairs. This move has resulted in more space in Hailey’s room because the big person’s bed has been moved to the Longhorn Guest Room (fka the old office). We are now ready to accommodate guests, should any decide to venture to this area. We now have more space in the office for books and can begin to purchase reading material once more.
Hailey continues to change at her incredibly alarming pace. She can understand complete and complex phrases. Pick up the paper and take it to the trash, results in an action that resembles the phrase. She can tell you, with her albeit limited vocabulary, what she wants. “Up please,” is my current favorite phrase. To hear it would absolutely melt your heart.
Hailey has moved from her crib to a toddler bed. Going to bed now seems to take forever. Eventually this too will be easy and second nature. For now though, going to bed seems to be the most difficult thing in our day.
Over the weekend we were outside in the back yard when Hailey started saying ball, ball, ball. I had to tell Hailey that there is no ball back here. I shouldn’t have been so quick to jump to my conclusion. When I looked up from what I was doing I noticed that one of the neighbors kids had lobed a beach ball over the fence and there was, in fact, a ball in the backyard. I guess she told me, I’m sure it won’t be the only time that she is right and I am wrong.
Indoor Easter Egg Hunt
A bit of bizarre April weather for Austin resulted in Hailey’s first Easter Egg hunt being held indoors. Hailey did quite well at finding Easter eggs. However, once she had two eggs, one for each hand, she would only find the other eggs. She would’nt put the eggs into her Easter basket. She preferred to keep one egg in each hand.
My First Car
At 3,200 RPM with the pedal pushed completely to the floor the speedometer needle could almost say hello to 70 MPH. Dust particles would flow through the air vents. The hood would lift at the rear; straining the latch and threatening to open. The roar of the engine matched the wind noise and blocked all other sounds.
Emblems, chrome, and covers were removed. The once blue metallic paint had been replaced by a mixture of light and dark gray primer, Bondo, and fiberglass. The interior complimented the sparse exterior. There were no sun visors, door skins or a center console. Those were deemed unnecessary and removed. Two well worn bucket seats, their upholstery disintegrated from age, covered with itchy tweed-like seat covers to keep the foam in place, accommodated the driver and passenger. The smell of oil and exhaust regularly filled the cabin.
The temperamental car would occasionally refuse to return to life and leave its occupants stranded, but it offered a new found freedom capable of masking any downside.
Circa June 1989. The vehicle in question.
Our Third Year
Three years ago today, on a St. Patrick’s Day that started off foggy and wet just like today, Brianna and I said I do.
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On the day that this was posted, only the white box above was posted. The white box represents that I am speechless; I can think of nothing to say. On this day that we found out that Roscoe had lung cancer. [--ed 20060523 ]