“I’ve played the piano since I was 3 years old and the harp since I was 11. I teach and I love music.

“I was in my early 20s when I started losing my hearing. When you’re a professional musician with a hearing loss, it’s a stigma. So I hid it for a long time, and I learned to read lips very well. Nobody knew until I couldn’t hide it anymore.

“I was at a concert about three years ago, and I broke a string. I had to replace it over intermission. I usually rely on an electronic tuner. But because there were so many people around me also tuning, I couldn’t hear well enough. I asked a violinist friend to help me hear to tune it.

“Then in rehearsals, I couldn’t hear our conductor. I began missing cues. I was completely lost. I had played with several community orchestras. But at this point I had gone back to school and didn’t have as much time. So I pared way down and just played gigs and with Baytown Symphony. Finally, I went to the conductor and said, ‘I can’t do this anymore because I’m deaf. I’m legally deaf. I love this orchestra, but you’d do better with somebody else.’

“At first, there was a process of getting people to believe me. I hadn’t told anybody. I had hid it so well.

“Music is in a different range than speech. It’s still a range that I can hear. There are certain things on the harp that I can’t hear. But I can absolutely hear the piano. I still play weddings and stuff like that. It doesn’t affect that work because it’s just me playing. As long as I play the right notes, I’m good. But playing with an ensemble, I just can’t do. I’ve kept my piano students. But I had to stop teaching voice because I couldn’t hear my students.

“My hearing loss has been gradual over 20 years. I speak ASL and I read lips. So I live inside the deaf community as well, and I’m at peace with that. It’s helped shape the kind of ministry I’d like.

“I hope to become a priest with the deaf community for the Episcopal Diocese of Texas. We don’t have a deaf ministry, so I hope to bridge that gap. It’s God’s redirection for me. I can’t do everything that I used to do. But I still have vital things to offer the world. I feel like this is the way I can do that.”

— Amy Waltz-Reasonover

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“My dad was a Southern Baptist minister and a doomsday prepper. I was raised in Palestine, up in East Texas. We lived in the parsonage next to the church where my dad preached. But he also built a little cabin in the woods, just outside the town of Rusk. It didn’t have plumbing, but it did have electricity. That was sort of a weekend getaway/ultimate destination if the grid ever went down and things got really bad.

“My dad was always a little mistrustful of the government. So I think he was just worried that something might happen and his family wouldn’t be safe. I guess in his mind it was really important to make sure that no matter what, we would be fine. In a way, that was very sweet. But in a way, it was kind of like, OK dad, please stop.

“I was homeschooled, and I had very little contact with anybody outside my parents’ social circle. So I just sort of thought it was normal. It was actually kind of terrifying as a little kid. I would have problems sometimes, thinking about the world ending. It was a big source of anxiety for me. Then, as I got a little older, and the world was supposed to have ended a whole lot of times but it hadn’t, it made me a bit cynical about conspiracy theories and that sort of thing. Like, yeah, I’ve heard it all before.

“Then when COVID hit, it felt like something I’ve almost been waiting for my whole life. Obviously, I’m not happy about it. But it was like, OK, I can do this. I feel like I’m ready for this. It would have been a big source of anxiety for me as a child. But now, as an adult, I’m not panicking. I have my bad days like everybody else, where I’m worried. But, you know, I sleep at night. It’s going to be OK.”

— Rebecca Barker

A former Baytown resident, Rebecca lives in Michigan with her husband and their daughter.

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• Community theater haven for ‘weird kid’

The post Doomsday prepper dad prepares her for COVID-19 appeared first on The Baytown Project.

“I’m an armchair theologian. I study ancient writings. All those things that some people have called other scriptures. As well as the Bible. I’m quite familiar with the Bible and biblical terms. I believe all churches are wrong — there is no good English translation of the Bible. They’re all terrible.

“I have a hard time getting people to talk Bible with me because I’m so far out there in many areas. I’ve talked to atheists. I’ve talked to agnostics. I like to talk about theology, what they believe and why they believe it. And I don’t get mad. You can believe whatever you want to believe. It’s all OK with me.”

— JimBob Hirst

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“After all I’ve been through, I’m fortunate to be here alive today. I’ve had heart surgery. I’ve been shot multiple times. I’ve lost close friends. It got to the point where I didn’t care about life anymore. I was done. I turned to drugs, alcohol and all that because I wanted to feel numb. Just numb the pain.

“I used to think it was just me, and that God didn’t really have a hand in any of it. But now, it’s the biggest part of me changing my life. It’s the biggest part of me still being here.

“One time, I was in the middle of a drug deal, where I was on my hands and knees. I just looked up and started praying. And out of nowhere, the idiot on one side with a .45 to my head and the idiot on the other side with a 9 millimeter, they put their guns down and began arguing. As they got into a little wrestling match, I started crawling backwards. As soon as I hit that door, I was gone. Now that I look back at it, there’s not a doubt in my mind that was God.

“Many times when I was in jail or prison, I would promise, ‘Hey, man, if you can just get me out of this, I’ll be good.’ When I got out, I was good for about two weeks. Then, bam, back to the same old stuff. I just don’t think that was right. I spit in God’s face a lot. It hasn’t been cool.

“I believe he has a calling on my life. I just don’t know what it is. I should be gone, but I’m still here. Now I’m trying to identify what my calling is and move ahead in a more positive way.”

— Larry Pool Jr.

Having struggled for years with drugs and alcohol, Larry believes he’s on a better path in life thanks to House of Mercy. He’s currently staying at the local church, which is planning its second annual Christmas banquet on Dec. 7 for those without homes. It hopes to help 300 people from Baytown and surrounding communities by providing dinner, gifts, clothes, shoes, haircuts and showers. To learn how you can support this effort, contact Teresa McCartney Hoffart at 713-702-2848.

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The post ‘I should be gone, but I’m still here’ appeared first on The Baytown Project.

“I was 19 years old in 1941. In those days, you didn’t work on Sundays. Nothing was open. It was a special day. So when Pearl Harbor happened, I was so frustrated. How could they attack on a Sunday morning?

“I was so proud of America, and it so bothered me, that I ran right down to the induction center at our post office. I intended to join the Army, but the guy there had gone to lunch. The Navy guy was there, so I joined the Navy instead.

“I served on the U.S.S. Manila Bay. I stayed on that ship all during the war. We were strafed. We were bombed. And we had a kamikaze hit us. The ship survived, but I lost a lot of friends.

“I remember one time when we were under heavy attack. All these planes were coming in, with strafing all around us. One of the planes was only 20 or 30 feet off the water, and he was headed right for my gun mount. That guy was so close, I could make out his goggles. And I thought, dear God, if I die today, I sure was going to hell. Because I believed in hell, this place of torment or whatever. I’d always been a wild kind of a guy. I had done every kind of sin that was named, as well as some that weren’t named. I was really a demon possessed among men. So when I saw that guy coming in, I thought, oh, lord, if you’ll save me, I’ll serve you. I had no idea that you could bargain with God. But I was trying to bargain with him anyway. And just about the time that plane was going to hit, one of our guns got him and he exploded.

“During the war, I never really thought I would come out alive. We were in danger all the time. It was a horrible way to live. We were fighting for survival, but we never thought we would survive.”

— Fred Sneed, 97

A few years after the war, Fred followed through on his promise and joined the ministry. He served in that capacity for more than 50 years.

(Note: Fred Sneed passed away on Aug. 29, 2021.)

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“Another time, I was working at a gas station. I was out there cleaning the pumps one night, and three women got out of a Suburban. They came walking toward me at the pumps. At first, it scared me because I didn’t know what they were going to tell me. They walked up to me, and all three of them handed me a $20 bill. I asked what’s it for, and they said, ‘We just appreciate what you do.’ Stuff like that is unexpected. If you’re expecting it, it might come or it might not. But when you don’t expect it, that’s when it hits you right in the eye.”

— Glen Henson

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The post In times of need, others have come to his aid appeared first on The Baytown Project.

“I was driving to Columbus, Texas. I was going up there to work. Back then I was drinking, and I ran my truck head on into a tree. It was at night, and I had gone to sleep. I’m pretty sure that drinking had a whole lot to do with it.

“When the law finally arrived, they took me to the hospital. My bottom lip was hanging there. I guess it hit the steering wheel. After they sewed it back together, they took me to the jailhouse.

“There was a woman deputy on duty, and she said, ‘I’m the only person with you tonight. There’s nobody else on this floor but you.’ She said, ‘If you need anything, just holler.’ I didn’t say a word. When she locked those doors, I was holding onto the bars.

“Then I heard an audible voice, just like I’m talking now. It said that if I didn’t quit doing what I was doing, I wouldn’t get another chance. I heard that just as plain as day. I’m thinking maybe I was hallucinating at the time from all the alcohol.

“Anyway, I laid down and went to sleep. When I woke up the next morning, I had sobered up a little bit. And those exact words came back to me again, just like I heard the night before. So I fell on my knees and said, ‘Lord, I need help.’

“I kept trying to reason and make out why I heard those words. In the end, I have to believe that was the lord talking to me. All I know is that I don’t mess with the stuff anymore. That’s when I quit drinking. I left it alone after that night.”

— Glen Henson

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The post He makes the most of second chance at life appeared first on The Baytown Project.

“When I was a little kid, I went to church all the time. As I got older, I began asking questions like, ‘What’s the aim of human life? Why are we here?’ And they had no answers. They just told me, ‘You need to read your Bible more.’ I was into martial arts as a teenager, and one of them said that was a false religion. I was told that I needed to make my choice of whether I wanted to do that or follow Jesus. So I said, ‘Bye. See you later.’

So what have you followed in life?
“I’m a devotee of a yogi from northern India. In his country, they called him Balyogeshwar. It means the born lord of yogis. He became an American citizen about 40 years ago. I’ve met him many times. I followed him around once for about a month. He would do these festivals, and thousands of people would come to hear him. He would speak on God realization and truth. He showed me what I was looking for. He showed me knowledge of the soul. He gave me wisdom, truth. 

“They say the musk deer runs through the forest, he smells this beautiful musk, and he doesn’t realize that it comes from his own navel. Still, he runs around the woods looking for it. Similarly, all the people of the world, they’re constantly running through life looking for something — satisfaction, peace of mind, whatever you want to call it. But it’s not in all these material things we have. It’s really inside all of us. It’s really simple. Truth has been in front of our eyes all our lives.”

— John Bounds

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“My mom and dad raised me to always help people regardless of your race, your color, your gender, your creed or your religion. When I go places and meet people, I don’t look at color. I judge you as a human. That’s the way I’ve always been.

“I, as a human being, believe that everybody is equal. From day one, I was raised to get along with all the kids in the neighborhood. So once I got to junior high and high school, I hung around everybody. That made me who I am.

“I have friends of all shades and colors. It’s my parents’ influence. They taught me to get along with everybody.

“In the end, God created us all equal. We all have to go before him on judgment day. We’re all in this together.”

— Kenneth Clark

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• Spreading positivity helps him cope with depression

The post ‘I, as a human being, believe everybody is equal’ appeared first on The Baytown Project.

“We’re community volunteers trying to help people make better citizens of themselves, with a spiritual side, of course.

“Jehovah’s Witnesses usually go door to door. They’ve been doing it for 100-and-some years. We just started this new initiative, working with what we call witnessing cards.

“Since most people aren’t at their homes or won’t open their doors to us, we thought we might meet them at the post office or the store. The other day, we met a lot of people going in and out of the courthouse. Some didn’t want us to recognize them. They tried to hide their face when they walked by. On any given day, out of two or three hours pursuing people and trying to get them engaged, we consider ourselves successful if at least one family, one individual, gives us a few minutes.”

Isn’t that a lot of time invested just to speak with one person?
“Yes, but there are 700 of us in town. And there are a little more than 8 million around the world. This is not done in a corner. This is a worldwide effort.”

— Nick Ayala

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