I’ve got a little story for you, Ags….
No, not a story about a historic football game or an amusing joke about an upcoming opposing team. I don’t even have a story about some amazing accomplishments of a former Aggie, although there are certainly many to tell. My story is a little less humble. It is a story about a great man ...
It’s a story about my dad…and this gig 'em cloud photo…taken at Texas A&M University.
The one year anniversary of my dad’s funeral was a time I was not looking forward to. I had spent many hours over that last year thinking about him . . . missing him. It had been a year of highs and lows, with the lows weighing heavy as they tend to do. My parents had been married for 65 years and trying to help my mom adjust to life without my dad, while trying to come to grips with it myself, was a difficult task. The thought of the upcoming anniversary of his passing and the memory of that day at the cemetery was looming heavily on my mind. Although I grew up in Texas, I had been away for many years starting a career and a family of my own and therefore, had only a few chances over that time to visit the campus of A&M. The thought of spending that particular day in a place where I had wonderful memories seemed like something I needed to do. The anniversary of his funeral was on a Sunday so it allowed me to get away for the weekend, spend time at College Station, walk around campus, and take a few photos. My hope was being on campus would give me some comfort. I had recently purchased a new camera lens and, with photography as a hobby, I could use the time to capture some fun shots and hopefully take my mind off of some sad and difficult memories I had of that day one year ago.
Plans were made. The hotel was booked, and I actually began to look forward to the weekend. After a long week at work, I woke up early on Saturday morning, took care of the typical weekend chores around the house, packed a bag for the night along with all of my camera gear, and drove to College Station. Once there I spent the night driving around town, stopping at some of the old familiar places, including my old apartment complex which, thankfully, had been renovated since the time I lived there as a student (It was a “fixer upper” even then with its green shag carpet and mustard yellow appliances). I ate dinner at an old favorite restaurant and enjoyed taking a few photos of the sunset. I was saving walking around campus for Sunday, the anniversary of my dad’s funeral, since I was confident being there would help ease the day.
I woke up the next morning, hoping to take some early morning photos before the harsh sunlight and blistering heat made the chances of capturing a good shot impossible. To my dismay, it was overcast and dreary with intermittent rain. In my quick desire to get away, I hadn’t thought about checking the weather forecast so this came as a surprise to me, not to mention making my heart sink with disappointment. But it did remind me of my very first day at A&M. I had this grand idea of riding my bike to all of my classes, looking forward to the fresh air and sunshine, with thoughts about how healthy I would be by making this a habit! But, I hadn’t looked at the weather that day either. And, as all of us Aggies know well, rain and humidity are a part of College Station that we just embrace. So, my first day of classes, riding my bike with such excitement, it rained. Soaked, I sat in my first class dripping water on the floor. From that day forward to the day I graduated, my backpack contents always included an umbrella. I recently saw a sign on a friend’s office wall that read, “I like people who smile when it is raining.” I remember smiling that day, even though I looked like a drown rat, with my hair frizzed out three sizes larger than it should have actually been. I was at A&M, the college of my choice, so it would have taken a lot more than a little rain to ruin the day!
And so, it was going to take a lot more than some dreary skies, intermittent showers, and frizzed hair to keep me from walking around campus on this day, so many years later, as well. Granted, a morning of photography might not work out since rain and expensive camera equipment don’t play well with each other, but I would take it in the hopes of having some opportunities to take a few shots.
A little hotel breakfast and off I went...
With the camera gear packed away in a waterproof backpack (I learned many things from my days at A&M!), I drove over to campus and began to walk around. My first thoughts included – “I don’t remember that building being here.” . . . So much has changed since I attended A&M, but so much has stayed the same. The familiar paths, the iconic buildings, the long-standing traditions, the friendly embracing faces and the occasional “Howdy” make it impossible to ever feel like too much has changed to make Texas A&M not be the school that all Aggies love.
I made my way to the Academic Building, happy to see that the doors were open and I could walk inside. The classic architecture, anchoring the center of campus (or, at least what used to be the center), the grandeur of the details, the magnificent size makes it unforgettable. I peeked my head inside a classroom door and noticed some modern but expected technological updates; however, the core structure itself was very familiar. Comforting, for sure.
I then went to the Century Tree, a favorite photographic spot of so many. I sat on the bench and began to think that it is the one thing on campus that every Aggie who has stepped foot on campus would have walked by, and perhaps sat under and pondered a thing or two about their life. Oh, the stories this tree could tell! Buildings have been built and taken down, trees planted, statues erected, but the Century Tree has been there from the beginning. Fortunately for me, the rain was light enough to capture a few shots, walking around shooting from all angles. Still, the rain was relentless, and I had to move on quickly.
I continued to walk around, enjoying every step, taking a photo or two as the weather allowed. I really wanted to go over to the stadium and the Association of Former Students building to see the ring. The plaza and the bronze statue of the ring were not built when I attended A&M, but if anything needed memorializing in the form of a statue, the ring would certainly be high on every Aggie’s list. I was walking the streets of London once, not long after my graduation, when an Aggie approached me and introduced himself and his class year, after noticing my ring, of course. We all have a story like that to tell, and we all remember the day we received our Aggie ring! A&M challenges each of us to be our best and we settle for nothing less! The ring is a reminder of this. Never given … earned! So many of my friends from other universities never wear their class rings or, worse yet, never bothered to purchase one. They just don’t understand what we (as Aggies) feel on the day we receive ours.
I walked around a little longer, reading the names on all of the new buildings that I noticed and took some quick photos of old favorites, but the day was passing quickly. I knew if I was going to have any chance of capturing a decent shot of the ring and the stadium, I needed to hurry. So, I went back to my car and drove over and parked at the Association of Former Students building. I grabbed my gear and went to the plaza. The new lens I had recently purchased was a wide angle, and I couldn’t wait to be able to stand close while capturing the entire building with the ring in the center of it all. Just as I began photographing, the dreary, rain-threatening, dark clouds rolled away, and I was left with a beautiful morning. Billowy, white clouds and a blue sky as my backdrop. I couldn’t believe it. The weather was cooperating!
I spent the rest of that morning snapping away! I set up shots from all angles, changing out lenses as needed. The ring, the building, the plaza, the stadium – I was enjoying every second doing something I love at a place I love. In between and amongst it all, I thought about my dad – happy, wonderful thoughts of the man he was.
The phrase – “Never met a stranger” – could have been written about my father. As a young girl, I can remember often asking him, “Who was that?”, following a conversation he had with someone in a store or on the street. He would often respond, “I don’t know.” This left me confused as a young child. The conversations made me feel as if this was someone he had known a long time, a dear old friend of his. But when he would tell me he didn’t know these people, he didn’t even know their names, I just couldn’t understand. I, myself, was very shy when I was young, oftentimes clinging to his leg as he talked with these strangers. Why didn’t he know who these people were that he laughed and joked with? But as I grew older, I began to understand that my dad was just like that. Never judging, he approached everyone he met the same way, and he always had great joy in his voice and laughter in his heart. He was never intimidated by anyone’s presence – no one was too good, or certainly not good enough, for him to strike up a conversation, for him to shake their hands and wish them a good day. I can honestly say, without hesitation, I never once heard him speak poorly about anyone. If only we could all – the world as a whole – be so kind in spirit. He was a smile in the rain kind of person!
My father was not financially successful, although he certainly worked hard to provide for our family. He didn’t attend college but served in the Army after graduation and was very talented with his hands. He built the first house I lived in. I don’t remember living there, my parents selling it before I was three, but he would tell me the stories of how he had to hurry up and finish it before I was born. January, even in Texas, can be quite cold, and he was determined to have my first home warm and ready for my arrival. That determination and hard work was consistent throughout his life, especially when it came to doing what he could to ensure his family was safe, secure, and happy. He never spoiled us with material things as he never had extra money for that, but he was always present, always there. He did the things that matter, memorable things, like making sure my car was started and warmed in the early morning of the cold winter months when I was in high school, and always opening my car door because “that’s what gentlemen do,” he would tell me. Being athletic, but not skilled in tennis, he would spend hours throwing tennis balls over the net so I could practice my strokes and hit many a softball to me, even after a long hard day of physically demanding work. It wasn’t until I was grown and had children of my own that he shared with me how tired he was some days when he would get home. Never showing this – either in his voice, his demeanor or temperament – he always had time, and the energy, to spend with me.
Consequently, I was the definition of a daddy’s girl. My dad was a Texan, born and raised. He loved the outdoors, spending every second he could outside, and sports. Growing up in the Dallas area, he was a Cowboys fan. Many a Sunday afternoon, I would curl up alongside him on the couch and passionately scream for “our team”. From a young age, I could throw a perfect spiral, knew the difference between a safety on defense and a 2-point safety, and recognized many offensive and defensive formations. When I went away to A&M, he became an instant Aggie fan! He would often call after a good game to talk about it. “How ‘bout those Aggies,” he would say, and conveniently forget to mention anything about the game when the Aggies didn’t fare so well.
Prior to his last few days, I had only seen my dad cry twice. His jovial nature, his pleasant disposition was constant. One of those times is when his father passed away, and the other was when I was full of tears over some teenage, trivial, boy problem thing. He sat there and cried alongside me, saying he couldn’t bear to see me so upset. The tears in his eyes made me stop crying instantaneously. I couldn’t bear to see him upset. A quick trip to the local ice cream store with him, and the problems of the world were miraculously solved. He started telling me old stories and had me laughing so hard I was crying, this time tears of great joy the way only he could do.
After spending a joy filled morning, walking and reminiscing about both my college days and my dad, I packed up my gear and headed back to the car. As I sat inside, laughing with the friend who had shared the day with me, I stopped and said I needed to go out and take a few more photos of the ring. The morning was fading and the sun was now quite hot. As we all know, summers in College Station can be brutal, and the temperature was quite warm by then. My friend looked at me, sweat running down his face with the a/c blowing comfortably on him, and said, “I think you have some wonderful shots – lots of them – why do you want to go back out?” I wasn’t sure why and couldn’t answer him but just knew I had to. I took just five more shots and was content to leave after that.
The day had accomplished what I had hoped. Being in College Station, spending time on campus, had given me the comfort I was looking for. A day filled with laughter, old stories, fond memories, and hopefully good photos! I wouldn’t know how good until later that night….
Sitting in front of the computer late Sunday night, going through the photos, I couldn’t believe what I saw. One of the last five photos was the one that included the gig ‘em shaped cloud formation, perfectly sitting in the sky above the Texas A&M stadium sign, the ring in the foreground. I immediately thought what are the odds of capturing an image like that? I could stand in that spot, with my camera for the next hundred years and never capture a photo like that again. The gig ‘em was unmistakable. I sat there for quite some time thinking about it, recalling my need to go out and take a few more shots. I can’t explain why I was compelled to do that. I certainly didn’t notice the cloud formation at the time I was taking the photo. My attention was on the ring and positioning the stadium sign just right in the frame. I only captured this one photo of the cloud. I would have taken many more had I realized what was in front of me.
As I am writing this, the lyrics … smile, even though your heart is breaking … keep going through my head. Playing the song, I realize the lyrics say, so powerfully, what I know my dad would say and want me to do . . .
Smile though your heart is aching
Smile even though it's breaking
When there are clouds in the sky, you'll get by
If you smile through your fear and sorrow
Smile and maybe tomorrow
You'll see the sun come shining through for you . .
Before today, I had shown this photo to only a few Aggies. Each one immediately said, “That’s a gig ‘em sign in the clouds!” with amazement in their voice and astonishment on their faces. They also had some quick-witted captions for it including:
“Not surprised God is an Aggie fan…”
“This puts a whole new level of meaning to the term 12th man.”
“I didn’t see the good Lord’s face in the clouds today, but I did see his hand!”
“The Aggies have a lot of fans. This one has seats in the nose bleed section but doesn’t seem to mind.”
“Now forming on the south end of Kyle Field, the nationally famous “Gig ‘em” sign,
stepping out in a cloud formation…”
And another raised the question:
“Could this be an NCAA violation, unfair recruitment of the big man in the sky?”
Lots of fun taglines to the photo for sure!
As for me… and how I feel about this photo…
On that day . . . at that time . . . at that moment, knowing my dad and the man he was, I would like to think he found a way to make me smile on a day I didn’t feel like smiling…
Thanks and Gig ‘em Dad
!
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