The Heart of the Matter

This blog was initiated as a way for me to kill time.  I have lots of time on my hands these days.  I am a stay at home wife with no children and at present, limited mobility (back injury).  I’ve always loved writing, and in the past, my writing has brought me accolades.  Straight super A’s in high school and college.  When I need a boost, I sometimes go back and look at old essays I wrote just to see the wonderful comments and compliments my professors gave me.  I’ve won a contest or two and friends often remark on the eloquence or truthful essence of a text or an email.  I should be writing.  I should have been writing.  I should have been a writer.  I’ve always dreamed of being a writer.  And yet, I don’t write. 

I think on some level I’ve been afraid.  We’ve all seen that question, “What would you do if you knew you couldn’t fail”. My first response is always, write my life story.  Or any story for that matter.  But really, I feel in my spirit that my life is a testimony I’m supposed to share…but I’ve been afraid.  My life has had a fair amount of pain. So had everyone’s, right?  Right.  No excuse there.  It  is hard to write about painful things because it brings them out of your past into the present.  So, at the most basic level, I have been avoiding pain.  That’s silly and somewhat selfish.  If I truly believe my story can uplift someone, how dare I keep it to myself?  It’s silly because, stuffing my memories, thoughts and feelings in the closet hasn’t lessened the pain. It’s always there when I go to get something out of the closet.  Perhaps, writing it all out will release the feelings I’ve attached to it all. Writing is kind of magical like that.

So, today, I’m feeling some kind of way.  In addition to the regular old chronic back pain I’ve suffered with for almost an entire year, today, there is a new sharper more intense pain.  I’m frustrated and saddened by it.  I want to DO something, so many things.  And new physical pain makes me feel that the chances of doing ANYthing are getting further and further away.  I am determined to stay in hope.  That requires me to refocus my energy and get positive.  I’ve picked up a few hobbies to help me refocus my energy and burn up some of this free time I have.  I have begun to learn how to quilt – by hand, the old-fashioned way. I also garden – my first joy.

My first quilt top. All by hand.

I GREW that watermelon!
Pineapple from Walmart.

I grew ALL this stuff! Can you believe it?
My Zuchini were the size of my forearm!

  I have dogs, four now.  Started with and was happy with one, but she had puppies and I’ve been unwilling to ‘get rid of them’.

My BEST Buddy - Sparkle.  Picking her up from doggie jail (the shelter).
She got picked up by the dog catcher one day.
More about her in future posts.  Love this girl.  What a face!

I love to cook and try new recipes.  I’m starting to travel with my camera at all times to document the beauty of my life here in Alabama.  I recently completed my first scrapbook as a gift for a friend.  A couple summers’ ago, I taught myself how to make jellies and preserves.

My first pear preserves.  They were yummy!

The back issues obstruct a good few of these hobbies, but I press on and today – I write.  Back pain should not interfere with that.

So I debate now where to begin - the present, the past, the beginning?  Who’s to say what is the beginning and if anything is ever at an end?  I figure, I’ll just go on topic, the topic most pressing on my heart any given day.  I have so  much to talk about: my mom, my dad, my sisters, my glorious, beautiful husband (a favorite topic of mine), my gifts, my curses, my successes, my failures, holidays, holy days.  It’s actually a bit overwhelming.  Blogging is a day by day thing and I'm hoping this format will ease the pressure of say, ‘writing a book’.  If it turns into a book, fine.  I'm not putting any pressure or labels on it.  I'm just writing.  That’s been the friggin’ challenge from the jump – to just do it as you know who says. (No commercial plugs here)

My glorious, beautiful husband, Phil, and his equally amazing nephew, Roman!
All the kids love Uncle Phil.  It's crazy.

I've shared this blog with friends.  I hope you all will continue to read it, and comment because I treasure your feedback.  It is always edifying and leads to growth.  I don’t intend to tell y’all all my business but I intend to be as honest as I can.  For my sake.  And if it blesses someone else, whew, all the better.  I need to empty some space in my brain.  I speculate that my continued limitations may be the universe’s way of saying, “SIT DOWN AND WRITE YOU STUPID HARD-HEADED GIRL!”  Maybe once I do it, my back will miraculously improve.  Hey, I'm a believer. You’ll find that out too if you keep reading.

Some days I may just talk about planting vegetables or walking Sparkle.  Some days I may share the pain of losing my mostly absent parents before age 24.  Every post won’t be heavy or fluff.  Letting the spirit lead me. 

Uh, I guess that’s it for now.  Just a little, hold on to your seats preparation.  Might be a bumpy ride.  But I’m all in.  Hope you are too.

Hugs!
N.

Welcome to Rockford

I became a 'Transplanted Yankee' about six years ago.  I am a native New Yorker - a fact of which I'm very proud.  Born in Harlem Hospital, raised in Harlem, NY and as an adult I lived on my own in Harlem, the Bed-Stuy section of Brooklyn, and right before my departure in the city suburb of Jersey City.  (Every New Yorker knows north Jersey is really New York City's backyard).  While I loved most things about the city - access to culture and cultures, wonderful friends, great restaurants, walking, public transportation, bright lights - I felt I was ready for a kindler, simpler life.  So I packed up and moved to Atlanta, GA.  NOT! I didn't find the warm Southern Hospitality I was looking for.  It's a mini rat race in Atlanta, filled with lots of rats.  And I dont mean subway rats - city mouse/country mouse RATS!  I stayed there for a bout 2 years when Providence took over and I was led to my mother's childhood home of Rockford, AL. 

The Welcome sign on State Highway 231

A view of 'Main Street'.  It's really State Highway 231 which
runs through the center of town.  The brown bldg is the County
Courthouse.  The Exxon station sits across from it on the other
side of Highway 22.  Notice our fabulous four-way stop. Blink
and you might miss us!

Rockford, AL is a place New Yorkers wouldn't believe still exists.  It is located in Central Alabama, about 1.5 hours ride South of Birmingham and 45 mins north of Montgomery.  A sweet hamlet in the middle of Coosa County, a county with a area of 666 square miles, and a total population of about 10, 000.  More about Coosa County  Rockford, with it's one traffic light - a blinking red 4-way stop - is the county seat!  (Imagine that) Yep, this is where all the action takes place!

The now deserted and defunct Avondale Mill which used to
employs hundreds of residents. It sitsabout 3 miles north
of town on Highway 231.

Rockford and Coosa are not without their problems.  Like everywhere else, there is heavy unemployment due to the recession and the closure of two major cotton manufacturing plants.  Monthly there are stories about the Sheriff's Dept busting up a meth ring.  I dont know what the murder rate is.  But I do know a local club was not given a new license because it had been the scene of two murders in six years - way more than the Sheriff and citizens could stand.  Not two murders in a day, a week, or a month (or a half hour in NYC) - SIX YEARS!  I guess the best example of Rockford is this:  a couple of days ago, as my husband prepared to leave for work at 6:30am, he went out front and our door was WIDE OPEN!  We were both a little freaked, but I realized I must not have locked it when I brought the dog in the previous night and at some point the wind must have blown it open.  Where else can you sleep through the night with your front door wide open and not wake up d as the next story for the Discovery ID channel?!  Only in Rockford, baby.

I think this picture really captures the smallness of Rockford. 
This one building houses the Town Hall, the Police Dept,
the Fire Dept AND the Library.  (FYI - we have one cop.)

This is the type of community where you are identified by your family.  Having not grown up here, people are clearly searching my face when introduced.  Before long I say something like,

"I'm Polly and Paul Burton's neice.  Polly and my mom were sisters.  My mom was Bernice." 

Then I get a big,

"Ohhhhhhh!!! You're Bernice's baby!  (Mind you I'm 38)  My goodness.  How's your brother Tony?  I used to ride the school bus with your mom when we were kids.  She was SOOOO nice."

Or if they're an older person,

"Oh...I remember your grandfather Mr. Willie!  He was always a gentleman and so handsome.  Your mother used to play with my daughter so and so."  

Or if they're even older,

"OK, so Massey Hoyett is your grand-daddy?"  I say, "No, he was my great-grandfather, my mother's grandfather."  "Ok. That's right.  So Erie Lee is your aunt?  Uh huh, she goes to my church. Yeah I knew all your aunties and uncles coming up." 

 And that's all it takes.  Now, you're in.  It's a beautiful thing that NEVER happens in a place like New York.  Oh - and more times than I care to relay - the response is:

"Oh yeah!  We're COUSINS!"

Rockford is a place where people still trust one another.  I can't tell you how many times my husband has gone to the convenience store and realized his debit card was in another pants pocket at home.  He's gotten gas, beer, and other sundries with a simple, "I'll be right back."
I've left the check book at home going to the local town drug store (where you can still get an old fashioned milk shake or ice cream float made with that old machine with the stick hanging down - love it) and told them, "I'll be back" and totally come home with all my prescriptions.  There is only one mechanic in town and Phil has run down there for a part and simply walked in, got what he needed and hollered back to the owner, "I'll be back, Jim."
Obviously, this works because we and all our friends and neighbors - always go back. 

Crew's Drug store on Main Street.  No idea how long it's been
there...for all of my life at least.

Rockford is a town where people share what they have:  their food, their homes, their talents, their wisdom, their time.  If a family is known for Sunday dinner, undoubtedly they always cook enough for unexpected drop-in visitors.  Sometimes it's annoying, but no one ever calls and asks, "Is this a good time to come visit?"  Nope, they find out when they show up at your door - and of course, you're gonna make it a good time to visit.  Older people who still do such arts and crafts like quilting are more than happy to show you the technique.  My uncle who has worked the land for all of his 70-something years LOVES to come help me work my little garden.  And if anyone is sick or in need, you better believe folks have ORGANIZED who is going to support the family with fully cooked meals this or that day.  Who is going to go sit with Mr. or Mrs. So and So to give the spouse or children a break.  When will we go to the nursing home to visit. People care and get INVOLVED in one another's lives. 

There is a strong sense of community here.  And I'm glad I came 'home' to be a part of it.  As I said, my mother was born and raised here.  So even while growing up in NYC, I had a strong connection to Alabama as the family up north always referred to it as 'home' and when we went to visit, we were going 'home'.  So, I must say, I was not completely foreign to this type of living.  I spent many a summer and holiday down here and I always had the best feeling while here and pined for it when I was back home in NY.  I loved the excruciating heat.  And back then, ACs weren't as prevalent.  Lots of times as teens, we had to make due with a box fan just blowing humid air on you.  But at least that air was moving.  I liked the slower pace and the familiarity amongst people I knew I didn't know.  Fond memories of sitting on the porch in the heat, shelling peas from my uncle's garden.  Fond memories of Vacation Bible School at church.  So, I came back, hoping to find those feelings and comforts.  For the most part, I did.  I also realized I had to create some of them for myself.  So I did.  These are the things I hope to share with the blog.

I hope you enjoy my slice of life as a Transplanted Yankee!

See Coosa - Almost dead center.  Green box.