Honeysuckle Blue

My current address makes the sixth city that I've lived in since moving to the penis-shaped state back in the 1990's.  I was barely 16 when my family moved to Florida.  It wasn't my idea, and honestly I wasn't exactly thrilled at changing schools my Sophomore year of high school.  And what the hell did a farm girl from the mountains in Georgia know about palm trees and beaches anyway?  It's not like I was going to jump on a surf board and hang ten, for crying out loud.  I knew about tubing down the Toccoa River and jet skiing on the chilly waters of Lakes Lanier, Notley and Blue Ridge in the sweltering July heat.  Frankly, I thought (and still think sometimes) that Florida smelled like rotten eggs.  Swimming in waters that have the potential threats of alligators, sharks, jellyfish and the like just didn't thrill me.  I don't like sand between my toes--or in any other crevice for that matter.

My first landing place on the big move to Florida was the town of Indian Harbour Beach.  It's a small town, although compared to where I came from in Georgia, it was a bustling megalopolis full of promise.  Pizza delivery?  That actually exists?  Cable television?  These were things only dreamt of by those of us who grew up where I did.  Satellite Beach was next on the zip code tour of Central Florida.  Satellite and Indian Harbour are basically the same town.  Then came the big, fat ugly mistake:  Orlando.  My family stayed on the coast while my idiot self moved inland.  I hung in there in the interior for about 9 months before I made my way back to the coastal breezes of the Melbourne area.  A few years and boyfriends later, I found myself living on the west coast in Tampa.  After three years it was back to Melbourne... And now I'm in Longwood, which is a suburb of Orlando.  Incidentally, I lived in the wrong part of Orlando during my first foray to the interior parts of the Sunshine State.  Longwood is beautiful.  And really, the name Longwood is hilarious.  That shit's on my driver's license!

When I look back at all the places I've bounced around, I realize that I don't have a place I truly consider my hometown.  I was born in Gainesville, Georgia, a town I never lived in.  The place I associate my childhood with, Suches, is still missing from some maps because it has a post office, the smallest public school in the state of Georgia, and one convenience store.  That's ALL.  Blue Ridge, the town I lived in before I made my triumphant entrance into weiner land (aka Florida), probably would be the closest thing I have to a 'hometown'.  Here's the thing, though.  None of my family lives there.  I have very few friends there.  I haven't been back there in 13 long years.  I fear I wouldn't recognize it, there have been so many changes there since I left.

Although both my parents, my grandmother, a cousin and a stepsister live in Melbourne, I've never considered that home.  Yes, I know a lot of people there, and when I visit I often run into people I know.  I just never felt any sort of affection for that place.  I guess the way I feel is how military brats must feel.  When you move around a lot, you don't get a hometown.  I'm hardly complaining, because I have friends in each of the places I've mentioned.  I could have a couch to sleep on in Blue Ridge tonight if I wanted it.  I'm always welcome in Melbourne, especially because my family is there.  But there isn't that pull to come "home" to any of these places like there is with a real hometown.  When people ask me where I'm from, my answer is usually along the lines of, 'Originally from Georgia, but I've lived all over Florida most of my adult life.'  That's kind of a sad way of saying, 'I'm not really from anywhere except where I am right now.'

I do consider myself a Georgia Peach, however.  I am a Southerner in all the best ways (not the Bible-thumping, gun wielding, South-Shall-Rise-Again ways).  I suppose all I'm really trying to say is that home is where your heart is.  It's where you hang your hat and your heart.  I'm so glad to be happy where I am, even if it won't ever be where I'm "from".

*Today's title is from the song of the same name by Drivin' N' Cryin'.  Reminds me of Suches!

I Tried To Laugh It Off But I Made Things Worse

I've always said that I have no regrets.  Everything that I've been through, good, bad or indifferent has made me the person I am today.  While I'm still a work in progress, I feel pretty all right with who I am.  So why would I regret the choices that have made me, me?  At least, that's my working theory.  I have my moments of doubt for sure.  Recently I heard two little words that made me realize that I do wish that there are some things I'd done differently.

My wife.

Those are the words that absolutely cut me to the bone.  Things happen the way they're meant to.  I truly believe that.  I just know that had I known then what I know now, I'd choose differently than I did.  The aftermath of those words reverberating in my mind is that I began to look back at my life and think about the things I'd do differently had I known better at the time.  Nothing can be changed now and I wouldn't want to have a re-do even if I could.  I just look back with melancholy at a few situations I've been through.  Yes, apparently hindsight is 20/20 and all the other cliches in that same vein.

I know that I'd have chosen my words more carefully.  I'd think longer and more meaningfully about making decisions that not only affected me, but also people I cared deeply about.  I'd answer the phone more and rely on voice mail and caller ID less.  I'd have given myself the benefit of the doubt much more often.  I would have valued friendship more and fleeting romance less.  Apologies would have been more abundant.

Life is like that I guess.  You fall in love, you make friends... You think you know more than you do.  Friendships fade if not tended to.  You second guess that love you fell in.  You stumble and fall.  You make bad decisions.  Not everything winds up the way you planned it.  You get lost on your way to a dream.  Maybe you find a better one.  Maybe you're still figuring it all out.  And maybe, just maybe, that melancholy you feel about the things you should've done differently becomes part of the fabric of who you are.  Maybe it makes you stronger and wiser.

Today's title is from "Second Chance" by Faber Drive.

The American Holiday

It's almost upon us again.  Thanksgiving.  Unequivocally my very favorite of all holidays.  There are a lot of reasons to love Thanksgiving, most of which have to do with unadulterated gluttony.  Is there really anything more American that one day devoted to the gluttonous consuming of as many calories as your body can handle before calling uncle?  No my friends, nothing says America like Thanksgiving.  Sure, other countries have their own versions of our American tradition.  Canada celebrated their Thanksgiving last month.  Although I've never encountered a foreign Thanksgiving, I can say beyond a shadow of a doubt that it wouldn't compare with the States version.

I love the family aspect of the holiday as well.  I'm a huge believer in the power of family, be it blood relatives or close friends.  A day to give thanks for your loved ones strikes a chord with me.  Another thing I love about it is its decided lack of religious foundation.  No matter what your religion, you can celebrate Thanksgiving with abandon.  It sort of sums up the American way of 'all men are created equal.'  I love that.  Just the thought of a day set aside specifically to be thankful for everything you have, no matter how much or how little, is a lovely idea.  Some critics of the holiday argue that the original Thanksgivings were an exploitation of the Native Americans... Blah, blah, blah.  Being of Native American descent myself, I don't believe that hooey.

There's the football, which I'm not a fan of at all.  I'll admit that it's a huge part of the American landscape on Thanksgiving, though.  It's not the same without a game on in the background... One that I ignore completely.  Of course there is the Macy's parade as well.  I never watch the whole thing, but the end with Santa always makes me smile like a little girl.

And then there's the actual food.   There are certain things, in my mind, that must be present on the table for it to be a true Thanksgiving dinner.  First and foremost, there's the turkey.  Turkey is the essential ingredient not only to the holiday dinner, but to the leftovers for the next week.  What's life without a turkey sandwich on Black Friday?  Of course if you're from the south, there has to be some incarnation of sweet potatoes.  This is essential.  Stuffing/dressing... The debate about which is which rages on.  If you're Southern like me, dressing is baked in a dish on the side and stuffing is baked in the bird.  Both must be on the table.  End of argument.  Gravy.  Gallons of it.  No compromise, it must be homemade.  That stuff in a jar is a joke.  Mashed potatoes... No potato salad, baked potatoes or rice thankyouverymuch.  And if you even think of busting out instant mashed potatoes, I'm not coming to your Thanksgiving dinner.  That's just blasphemy.  Green bean casserole...  I like mine with fresh green beans, but that might offend some people.  It must include French's onions on top.  Cranberry sauce is ubiquitous, although I must admit that I really love the stuff in the can that's flopped out onto a relish tray with the lines from the can still intact.  I make a damn good cranberry mold as well, but I'm just as happy with the canned goodness.  There must be some sort of pumpkin dessert.  Good southerners wouldn't be without a pecan pie on their table on Thanksgiving day, either.  Apple pie is the All-American dessert, so it's always welcome.  Some sort of dinner roll must be present to slop up all those gallons of homemade gravy, too.

I've been thinking a lot about Thanksgiving this year, because as I stated, it really is my favorite holiday.  Part of the reason that I've been thinking so much about it is because I've been having thoughts of moving out of the U.S. in the next few years.   Yes, I'm dropping that bomb in the middle of my American holiday post.  No, I'm not answering any questions about when or why.  I just know that if I do make that move, Thanksgiving will still be held on the last Thursday in November in my house, no matter where in the world I'm living.  I would say that it's the one day out of 365 that I'm the happiest.  Nothing is better than surrounding yourself with your loved ones, a huge table of homemade comfort food and the opportunity to reflect and be thankful for everything you have.  I'd say that's a holiday without borders, even if it is All-American.

Advice from the 90's

If you were alive and semi-coherent in the late 1990's, you no doubt heard The Sunscreen Song by Baz Luhrmann about one thousand times too many.  It was on the radio every hour and most people I knew could recite it verbatim.  That was the thing about it... It wasn't really a song.  It was a commencement address set to music.  For a while when it first came out, I loved it.  After hearing it for about 365 days in a row, I was over it.  Recently I revisited it just for nostalgia's sake.  The song kind of sucks but the advice is great.  Below is the commencement speech in its entirety.  I italicized those things which particularly resonated with me.  It's funny how a little over a decade can change your point of view on things.  For a trip down memory lane and some sound advice, enjoy.

Ladies and Gentlemen of the class of ’99:

If I could offer you only one tip for the future, sunscreen would be
it. The long term benefits of sunscreen have been proved by
scientists whereas the rest of my advice has no basis more reliable
than my own meandering experience… I will dispense this advice now.

Enjoy the power and beauty of your youth; oh never mind; you will not
understand the power and beauty of your youth until they have faded.
But trust me, in 20 years you’ll look back at photos of yourself and
recall in a way you can’t grasp now how much possibility lay before
you and how fabulous you really looked…

You’re not as fat as you imagine.

Don’t worry about the future; or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubblegum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind; the kind that blindside you at 4pm on some idle Tuesday.

Do one thing everyday that scares you.

Sing.

Don’t be reckless with other people’s hearts. Don’t put up with
people who are reckless with yours.

Floss.

Don’t waste your time on jealousy; sometimes you’re ahead, sometimes
you’re behind… The race is long, and in the end, it’s only with
yourself.

Remember the compliments you receive, forget the insults; if you
succeed in doing this, tell me how.

Keep your old love letters. Throw away your old bank statements.

Stretch.

Don’t feel guilty if you don’t know what you want to do with your
life… The most interesting people I know didn’t know at 22 what they
wanted to do with their lives, some of the most interesting 40 year
olds I know still don’t.

Get plenty of calcium.

Be kind to your knees, you’ll miss them when they’re gone.

Maybe you’ll marry, maybe you won’t, maybe you’ll have children, maybe
you won’t, maybe you’ll divorce at 40, maybe you’ll dance the funky
chicken on your 75th wedding anniversary… What ever you do, don’t
congratulate yourself too much or berate yourself either – your
choices are half chance, so are everybody else’s.

Enjoy your body, use it every way you can… Don’t be afraid of it, or what other people think of it. It’s the greatest instrument you’ll ever own.

Dance… Even if you have nowhere to do it but in your own living room. 

Read the directions, even if you don’t follow them.

Do NOT read beauty magazines, they will only make you feel ugly.

Get to know your parents, you never know when they’ll be gone for
good.

Be nice to your siblings; they are the best link to your past and the
people most likely to stick with you in the future.

Understand that friends come and go,but for the precious few you
should hold on. Work hard to bridge the gaps in geography and
lifestyle because the older you get, the more you need the people you
knew when you were young.

Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard; live
in Northern California once, but leave before it makes you soft. 

Travel.

Accept certain inalienable truths, prices will rise, politicians will
philander, you too will get old and when you do you’ll fantasize
that when you were young prices were reasonable, politicians were
noble and children respected their elders.

Respect your elders.

Don’t expect anyone else to support you. Maybe you have a trust fund,
maybe you have a wealthy spouse; but you never know when either one
might run out.

Don’t mess too much with your hair, or by the time you're 40, it will
look 85.

Be careful whose advice you buy, but, be patient with those who
supply it. Advice is a form of nostalgia, dispensing it is a way of
fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the
ugly parts and recycling it for more than it’s worth.
 

But trust me on the sunscreen… 

Lightning Bugs and Mountain Laurel

Last weekend, while visiting my father, we started talking about the farm that I grew up on in the North Georgia mountains.  We reminisced about how wonderful it was to live in such a unique place.  I honestly had the best childhood imaginable.  Our farm was surrounded on three sides by National Forest Service land, so it was quiet and serene.  We had horses (four of them) that I rode daily, rain or shine, sleet or snow.  It was a short walk to the Toccoa river, where I went fishing in the summers (along with tubing).

My dad decided he wanted to see if we could see the farm on Google Earth.  We were able to find it, and from what we could see, it doesn't look like much has changed.  I'm so thankful for that.  There was something very pure about living there, and I'd hate to think that someone had changed it.  I've always said that the very first thing I would do if I won the lottery is buy back the farm.  I know that sounds like a cliche, but it's so true.  There's nothing more than I would love than to move back to Suches.

When I think about going back to visit, it makes me sad.  I haven't been back there since I was 16.  I think that I'd have to have someone hold my hand and give me a shoulder to cry on...  Living there shaped who I am more than anything else.  It made me independent and self sufficient.  I learned about hard work and values, and to enjoy every minute of time I had there.

I can still smell the night-blooming jasmine floating on the evening air.  I can close my eyes and be right back on the porch, watching clouds of lightning bugs and hearing locusts croak.  It seems so long ago, but all those memories are right there in the forefront of my brain.  I can see the light purple mountain laurel in bloom, I can hear the river off in the distance...  I hate not being there.  If there's anywhere I could wish myself to, it would be back there.

Midnight Philosophy

Tonight was a good night.  There is nothing better than a good talk with someone who knows you really, really well.  I went to dinner with my best friend.  It reinforced the prevailing feeling I've had lately that things are getting better.  Just being able to laugh with her makes my outlook sunnier.  We talked about a lot of different things, some of which we have very divergent opinions on... We've been friends since I moved to Florida in 1997.  We met on my 16th birthday in Spanish class with the evil Sra. Hernandez.  Any meaningful relationship I've had, she's been there for--and vice versa.

Lately her and I both have been going through rough patches in our lives.  Our problems are totally different, but some of our feelings are the same.  We had a good talk about all our woes, etc.  Some of our best conversations happen in the car, sitting outside one of our houses in the wee hours.  Tonight was one such occasion.  We talked about one of the best times in both our lives, a summer in high school when we spent basically every waking moment together that we weren't working.  We made stupid decisions and suffered from a boatload of teen angst.  I would go back to that time in my life in a second, when things were so much easier.  Our whole lives were ahead of us, and the problems we thought we had were few and far between.

We talked about choices that we've each made that in hindsight were pretty damn stupid.  Some were laughable, others cringe-worthy.  We laughed about inside jokes we've had since the beginning... The ''shoeless wonder" and "nothing like a heartache to make you lose weight".  There's been midnight philosophy between us for over a decade now.  Tonight was no exception, and we added another slogan (I supposed you could call it that) to our list:  I got the opposite of a ring; I got the boot!

It doesn't matter what it means, and I'm not about to explain it.  Some things are better left unsaid.  It's just good to know that someone has my back, and will be there for me no matter what.  I started to tell a story and she said, "I love stories about this!"  She knew what I was talking about before I even got the words out of my mouth.  Having someone like that means the world to me.

I don't get to see her very often because she lives in another city and has a demanding job.  I cherish the little time we do get to hang out...  I think I appreciate it so much more than I would if we were able to see each other whenever we felt like.  Tonight showed me that even though things are rough for me right now, I have a lot of good in my life.  It also made me thankful to be back in Melbourne, so we can see each other when she's in town visiting her family.

Tonight I'm very thankful for some good laughs and a dose of midnight philosophy :)

Decoration Liberation

When I started working in retail, way back when I was 16, the holidays lost some of their magic for me.  Something about piped in "Santa Baby" and fake snow in the heat of August just made me into more of a cynic than I'd care to admit.  I groan every year at the thought of trimming a tree.  I don't work in retail any more, but in the years that I did, I'd sometimes trim 5 or 6 trees before I even got to mine at home.  Not to mention that when I was a little girl, decorating the tree wasn't fun.  My mom sat in her La-Z-Boy and basically commanded my father and I, giving us strict direction on where to place each ornament on the tree.  It's the only night all year long that I can remember dreading because it always ended in tense silence.

And really, who was I kidding?  I live alone.  The tree is a big pain in the ass.  Every year I've insisted upon it.  I'd pull the damn thing out of storage, along with 5,000 ornaments and all the other detritus that ends up tacked up all over my apartment.  It takes me all day to put the thing up, but because I'm never actually in my apartment on Christmas day, I don't get to enjoy my handy work.  It's just pretty for me when I come home at night.  Taking it down after the holidays is another matter entirely.  I usually procrastinate until about February, giving the tree angry looks as I walk by it for not putting itself away.

This year, none of that.  I've decided to liberate myself from bad memories and time ill spent.  The only decorations I'm putting up are a wreath on my door and maybe some mistletoe in a doorway.  I'm going anti-decoration so that I can focus on the stuff  that matters most.  Imagine that.