For the last 25 years, I have had another family.  The Ross Family.  The 90s was our strongest decade.  On any given weekend, we spent Friday and Saturday night together. Through youth groups, school events, double dates. Seven different houses from 290 West to 79 east. 3 neighborhoods, a ranch, a farm, a high-rise condo, and an apartment in the 183 ghetto where we were concerned for our life.  We took trips from Las Vegas to Santa Fe to the Caribbean.

I spent a lot of time with Big Joe, Glenda, Joe, Kimberly Jo, Kelly Jo, and Jeffrey Jo and all the pets with Joe derivatives. I feel like I should be an honorary “Joe”.

The one place that I remember the most, no matter the house or the neighborhood, was Saturday morning around the breakfast table.  Joe and Glenda cooking homemade pancakes, sausage, bacon, biscuits and gravy, fruit, coffee, and orange juice.   Let me just say when it came to eating…The Ross family didn’t mess around.

There was so much life in that house.  Laughing, running, talking, teasing, hitting each other, praying together.  Each member of the family have such strong personalities and unique character.   Entrepreneurial spirit, the life of the party, beauty (honestly, the Ross’ are some of the best looking people I know), hard working, creative.

Each characteristic was represented at the breakfast table with it’s own agenda and potency that left alone would overpower.  However, when the atmosphere got too hectic, there was one who could say one sentence and bring peace and balance to the mix.  Big Joe would have enough of Jeff or Kelly or whoever and in his own simple way would bring a balance to the force.  He was like a conductor at a symphony.  He was so good at keeping the rhythm, that the family worked well together. Complimented one another.

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