I have never been one to follow the rules or do things in the right order or the right way. I graduated high school at 17, earned a bachelor’s degree at 42, a master’s at 52. I published my children’s books at 47, a novel at 48. I started my professional collegiate teaching career at 55 so I suppose I’m on tract to start a business at 58 so here I go. 

A food truck might sound a little outside the box for me, but it’s really not. I love homecooked and scratch made meals. I’ve never been a fast-food person but have always been a busy person that needs to eat and feed others. I didn’t like my kids eating on the run or in my car, but always needed meals to be quick, convenient, and not messy, because they did in fact eat in my car. When looking for meals for my own kids I longed for something healthy that fit all the above criteria and there was just nothing. Sometimes I would have no choice but to give in to the fast-food joints that surrounded their schools in between activities but many times I simply would not. We were all unhappy on those days.

Every Wednesday afternoon after picking up the kids from their various practices, I would ask them Church or food? We don’t have time for both. Those sweet kids would always pick church. I was smart enough to know it was because they wanted to hang out with friends. We lived approximately 20 miles from church so by the time they were released from youth group, and we made the long drive home, it was close to 9:00pm. Of course, they would be hungry and of course I would feed them. I would cook something even that late at night because I didn’t want them eating junk food. 

I’ve always known that if I experience something other people are also experiencing it. So, I offered to cook a full-on meal before the church service on Wednesdays night at our church. We had a nice group, and many times I would feed upwards of 200 people. I have to tell you that was the best time. I loved every minute of it. I was right, not only did we solve the problem in my life of afterschool activities, church, and food. It turns out that many families suffered from the same problem, and that meal solved that one problem on one night a week for many in our little town. Out of all the volunteer jobs I have every had that one was my favorite and I have missed it ever since I turned the reigns over to others. 

But why Meatballs? 

Well, first they are fun. Everyone loves meatballs. But really, we can thank my grandmother for this. My grandmother, for as long as I could remember, until age overcame her, made spaghetti and meatballs every Sunday afternoon, rain or shine, in sickness and in health, although I don’t ever remember her being sick. If you showed up at her house at 3:30 any given Sunday, you would have a seat at the table and your plate would be filled with spaghetti and meatballs. 

Sometimes there were some left over and when we visited throughout the week of course we would snack on them. We would eat them cold right out of the fridge, on a toothpick, doused in Worcestershire Sauce. Ranch wasn’t a thing, and if it was it would have been too expensive. We loved them and they were a staple at her house and in our lives. 

So, when I became an adult, I perfected her recipe. However, marriage is always a collaborated effort, and my husband preferred a meat sauce as opposed to the smooth sauce with meatballs on the side the way that my grandmother served. So, I adjusted. The meatball was put away for marital bliss and convenience because honestly, it took a whole lot less time to make the meat sauce than hand roll meatballs. 

As my children grew, left for college, and came back to visit, it seemed family meals became staggered and time sensitive as I had to share them with workouts, friends, and Sunday afternoon college football games. So, the meatball reemerged because it was fun, versatile, and could feed a lot of people with little effort and not much meat.

I’ve talked about opening a meatball truck since their college days and talking is fine until you start to see that life if passing. More and more of my friends’ parents are passing on, and unfortunately my own friends and people my age are also passing away. 

A few years ago, we lost someone close with such a rare and terrible disease that in the five months it took to take her life the entire medical community could not diagnose her. She never knew she was terminal even though her life was slipping away every day. Her family didn’t receive the diagnoses until two weeks before her passing, she had already slipped into a coma.

As I watched my friend slip away and the pain within her family and how it affected them, I became keenly aware that talking about things is fine but if we ever feel like there will be regrets while lying in our bed while our life slips away, we need to just go ahead and do whatever it is we want and let the chips fall where they may. 

When we are young, we think we have forever, and it sure seems like it. Even though no one is promised tomorrow you can’t convince a young person about the shortness of life or that tomorrow may never come. However, when you’re running toward your sixth decade, did I say running? Whatever variant of moving forward we are doing know, six decades in it becomes painfully, and I mean that literally, clear that life is very short and there are no promises of tomorrow at all. 

So, I am doing everything I want right now. Yes, I’m still teaching at Tarleton. I am finishing a new novel. I am still plugging away at my non-fiction, that will be what kills me. I am tending my 1500 sq ft garden. I take that back, it will be the weeds that kill me. I’m taking care of my two dogs, one cat, and 19 chickens, who really needs 19 chickens? Season two of my podcast should be out soon. I am still traversing the state of Texas to visit my kids and grandkids, Houston, San Antonio, Port A. Texas is a big state. Finally yes, I am cooking meatballs, and operating a food truck. 

Life is short. There’s no reason why we can’t have a ball while living it.