New Year's Revolution! Not a Typo!

I had lunch with one of the most wonderful women in my life yesterday. Her name is Dr. Loucrecia Collins, and she has life figured out as far as I'm concerned.  Whenever I spend time with her I leave with a deep-seated belief that I am better than what I probably really am. She brings out the best in me...the part that dreams, hopes, believes life is full of wonder and possibilities. She is, quite simply, a gift from God.

She asked me why I haven't blogged lately. I haven't blogged because, frankly, I figured nobody really cares what I have to say. I also haven't blogged because I tend to get carried away and reveal too much of myself. But as I was talking to Dr. C yesterday at lunch I said, "I guess my life is mine to reveal or not to reveal as I please. It's mine. I'm pretty much an open book...and it's my book. Period."

That may make my children a little nervous, but I don't really think so. I promise I won't reveal anything about them except how wonderful, beautiful, smart, articulate, and accomplished they are. Surely they can't object to that.

The rest is all mine, mine, mine. It's a New Year's Revolution...Thank you Dr. Collins...my sister friend. I love you dearly.

For My Over a Certain Age Friends...What is Beauty?

I recently read a post on a website I visit dedicated to women of a certain age. Some of the posts make me blush, some make me think, some make me sad...some a little angry. The one that made me think asked the question...Are You Beautiful? I had to stop and think about that which is never a good sign. I've always been overly critical of myself. I lament extra pounds, sags ( for some reason wrinkles don't really bother me, but I hate sags), and wrong hair. I can't explain wrong hair; it has nothing to do with Lori who manages to cover my gray and give me a good cut. But I can't be sure every day that it won't be a bad hair day. I criticize myself if my house isn't company clean, if my car isn't clean, if I leave work undone on my desk at the end of the day...and if I've let my mouth and crazy sense of humor take over...even if just for a moment. See how good I am at pointing out all my faults? I am a master at self-criticism. Pity. So when the author of the post asked the question, I was interested to read the responses. And I realized that the very traits these women were posting that makes them feel beautiful are the very traits I find beautiful in my friends and in people I'd like to be friends with...and it's not about a perfect face or body or talent or material possessions or perfect houses or clothing although those things are admirable and worthy of note...especially our talents. Okay maybe I'm a little in awe of someone with great hair and a great body and who has it all together...but that's just icing on the cake. Good for you! The traits I find beautiful and would like to possess are compassion, patience, love, peace, wisdom, loyalty, a sense of adventure... I'll work on those because I too believe it's really not about the physical (but I'll still keep trying on that), it's about the spiritual and the abstract qualities that create true beauty. One trait I possess that I think makes me border on beautiful is my ability to laugh at myself...loudly and with abandon. What makes you beautiful?

Ladder Climbing Days Are Over

My ladder-climbing days are over. Not literally...figuratively. I can still climb a ladder to get on the roof if I want to...although I need some coaxing and coaching to climb down. The climb up is always easy...the climb down scares me. But I'm not scared of getting off the figurative ladder right where I am. There was a time when I was ambitious...when I wanted to get to the top of my profession...when where I was just wasn't good enough for me...or maybe satisfying is a better word. I've never considered myself particularly successful. Diligent...yes. Driven to succeed...yes. Hard working...yes. But the abstract idea of success has been elusive. Four college degrees...count them...4...including a Ph.D which still sits rolled up somewhere with a little coffee stain at the top. By some standards, that's successful...and good for those who have earned them, because they don't come cheap and they don't come easy. I think, in the back of my mind I thought that more education, a higher position...dare I say it...more stuff would make me feel like I had arrived. Where, I don't know. But the trip up was exhausting and not worth the sacrifice. And I still wasn't satisfied with myself. Gradually, over the course of a few months, after I have "simplified" as a friend calls it, after I have examined my life closely and found myself lacking in areas painful to acknowledge, I'm working on those areas more than the climb to the top. I'm working on peace, serenity,smiling, being grateful to God for the untold blessings He has given me and which I don't deserve, patience, charity, love, laughter...and a sweeter spirit. I have come to believe I have arrived at the key to my purpose and it has nothing to do with rungs on a figurative ladder. I don't want to be at the top of my profession...but I do want to be the best I can be in my profession. I don't want to posture for recognition...fame or fortune...the fame and fortune thing is a joke because I am in education...I don't want to jockey for position or whatever "up the ladder" is. I am finished climbing ladders. The view is great from right here.

Getting rid of stuff...

I am in full tilt get rid of stuff mode. I have been focused and relentless in purging closets, bookshelves, walls, and cabinets. This stuff has to go. Why is it that we spend the first part of our lives trying to accumulate things, money, people (oops...don't mean to offend) and then the next part of our lives trying to downsize? At least that's what I'm doing. Things: extra stuff that I thought I had to have like one more black suit, one more white blouse, one more sweater, bracelet, pair of shoes...okay...the shoes are necessary...one more latest and greatest fashion...when nobody really pays attention to what I wear. I have casserole dishes I use once in awhile, but only because I feel compelled to cook too much stuff at Thanksgiving or Christmas. If I had two casserole dishes, we wouldn't starve and I wouldn't think I have to turn into Paula Deen for a season. And everybody knows Paula has full-time help and I don't. I have a sewing machine and I can't sew...and will never learn. I have ugly lamps somebody talked me into a hundred years ago. I have 100 pairs of workout socks..although I wash clothes at least twice a week...and I work out three times a week. Do the math. I have flatwear for 24, but I never have more than 10 or 12 people to eat. Money: well, I haven't been great at accumulating money...partly because of all the stuff and partly because I love to travel. I'd rather have a precious memory and a great time than tons of money. Tons of money is really only good for one thing...helping people who need help who don't have tons of money. Remember Ebenezer Scrooge? So money and social position are of no real interest to me at all. Especially the social position thing. Talk about stressful. Wow. People: This one is tricky and difficult for me I will admit. I need people...we all do. But I really am scared. I'm afraid I will let someone down, be less than they expected, and fail...again. So maybe I'm not ready to deal with the people thing yet. I want an ordered, simple life. I don't want things to get in the way. I want calm, peaceful, contentedness (is that a word?) and I want to be joyful and good to be around. I guess what I want is less so I can be more.

Doing Nothing At All...

Americans certainly do busyness well. If you don't believe it, check Facebook. Or talk to someone about their weekend plans. Or listen to someone at work give you a rundown on everything they're doing or have done or are planning to do. And I wonder...why? Congratulations, you have a life. Or, in the case of work...maybe you're driving everybody nuts with your incessant descriptions of what you've accomplished (or not). I do my job very well, thank you. But if I spent my time telling everybody exactly what it is I do, I'd probably have to stay at work until 8:00 to actually DO my job. No, thank you. I'm going to do it and go home.

This new thing on Facebook - checking in every time you go somewhere or are with someone...why? The most interesting check-in I've heard about is checking in at church. Really? Who, except for God, really needs to know  you've just checked in at church? I do understand  in some cases you get a discount at a restaurant or business if you check in. Why? Do they think  just because someone checked in at Styx (which sounds slightly ominous to me anyway),  I'm going to throw on some decent clothes and run to eat there? Not likely.

So, my point is this: Does being really busy make us more content? Does being in the right place with the right people doing the right things validate our lives more so than if we just decide to spend some time in quiet contemplation?

I guess it depends on the person. I'm not making value judgments. I know some people who absolutely thrive on a full, hectic, crazy schedule. Or they appear to thrive on that...who really knows?

Recently I've spent a lot of time in quiet contemplation. I've prayed, read, watched the squirrels on the deck, watched my two new kittens destroy my house... And, I've decided I like the calm. I feel grounded and peaceful and centered.  And with those feelings comes a strong sense of power. I get to choose how busy or not busy I am. I decide the course of my life with a whole lot of input from God (I'm not quite to the turn everything over to God stage, but I'm working on it).

I don't feel pressured to be busy all the time or to be doing the right things with the right people at the right places and the right time. I just am enjoying talking to God without rushing through. And I'm enjoying sitting and waiting for Him to talk back.

So, I promise not to judge you if you're one of those people who is busy, busy, busy and loves it - good for you...if you won't judge me for doing nothing at all :-).

So. Who do I want to be?

My prayer for the last 26 years has been "Dear Lord, just let me live long enough to get my babies raised, successful, and happy. I don't want anyone taking care of them but me."

He answered that prayer, and for that I am thankful.

So. Now what? Everything I've read, everyone I've talked to says, "Well, now you have to figure out who you are." Easier said than done. You'd think at this stage of my life I would have figured that out. I haven't. I know what I'm not, which is a start. Who and what I'm not is pretty boring. I'm beginning to think that who I am is not as important as who I want to be. Here are things I like:

I love to spend time with my family. We're a pretty tight bunch.
I love the beach when it isn't 100 degrees.
I like my house to be clean, but I don't particularly like to clean it.
I love my job and I love to work...so shoot me. I love to work and I love my job.
I like to bake when I'm in the mood.
I don't care for television.
I like to watch Alabama football when we're winning. I hide in the bathroom when we're not,
and I put my fingers in my ears so I can't hear.
I like quiet and calm and no drama.
I love to travel for fun, but I don't like to travel for work.
I want to go back to Italy, Germany, Switzerland, France,Seattle, the Rockies,and a bunch of other places.

I love my friends, but I don't make time for them like I want to do.

So...maybe who I want to be is who I am. Maybe, in my case, I just need to stop trying to figure out who I want to be and just be Vicky. Maybe in this case...no change is necessary.

That was easy.

Two New Vibrant Women in My Life

Rose Ann Burnham Thompson, Pat Lake Grant, Linda Manning Grissom, Deb Buettner, Jenita Smith, Lorie Butler Black, Mama, Franzi Frieg, Christel Frieg, Grandma, Oma,Loucrecia Collins, Leah Keith, Sue Butler, Montez Butler, Wanda Hyatt, Jo Ann Sachs, Juliana Black Robertson,Debbie Garrison, Francie Abbott, Heidi Abbott, Courtney Thompson, Courtney Watts, Diane Barnett, Patsy Doherty...

How blessed am?

That's just the tip of the supportive female iceberg...women who have had a profound and lasting impact on my life. I have left someone out I know, and if it's you, I am sorry...like I said, this is just the tip.

Five of those women are gone,and that's so hard for me to believe. I guess that's one of the main reasons I'm determined to keep changing...so I can become a better person in honor of them. They left an indelible mark on my life, and I can't tell them, so all I can do is to be my best because they would expect that of me.

The good Lord keeps putting vibrant women in my path, and He always puts the exact ones I need. The latest two gifts from God are Amita Smith and Ann Maddox. I "inherited" them when I started my new position with Cullman County Schools. I think I had forgotten how to belly laugh. Work was stressful, home was stressful, and more often than not I found myself scowling instead of smiling. Nothing worse than an already aging face with a scowl to boot.

These two women are the funniest two women I've ever worked with. Don't get me wrong...we work and we are really good at what we do if I say so myself...but I have never laughed as much as I have the past few months. And I can't really remember what we laugh about...it's just that everything is funny.

I am so grateful for my women friends...and I consider my sister and my daughters and my niece my friends as well as my family. I am thankful for my dear long-time friends, and I am thankful for my new ones. I am one lucky girl.

Daddy and the Suzuki Shop

I drove through Cullman the other day - where Little Bit was before April 27th. There is only a blue and red cement floor, but that floor stirred so many memories for me!

The year was 1974. I graduated from West Point High School and immediately started working for Daddy at the Suzuki shop - where Little Bit was...until April 27th. Daddy worked for Bill Smith and Jimmy Waldrop who, at the time, owned the shop. My cousin, Michael Butler, was working for Daddy too. Michael, who went on to be a successful accountant, was...and probably still is...a pretty good mechanic.

I was the parts girl. Don't ge me wrong. I knew absolutely nothing about motorcycle parts, but I figured I could learn, and Daddy gave me a chance. That whole summer Daddy and I drove motorcycles home and back to work. No way would I get on a motorcycle now unless there is absolutely nobody else on the road. But I was young and Daddy always thought I could do anything I wanted - including driving a motorcycle. He taught me how to do that exactly the way he taught me how to drive anything I ever drove (a stick shift, once...and only once...one of his big trucks, a tractor, and a motorcycle) - he put me on or in and said, "Drive." When I asked, "How?" He said, "You'll figure it out."

And I did. I still do, and he still has confidence in my ability to do anything. Gotta love a daddy like that.

But back to the blue and red cement floor. It was blue and red then too. There were two wide doors into the building and a garage-type door out. In between was the sidewalk - which survived April 27th.
Before housing the Suzuki shop Mitch Smith Chevrolet was there if I remember correctly. Probably the same blue and red floors.

So the other day when I was driving through and I saw those floors, I was reminded of one day when Daddy put on a helmet that was way too small, got onto a little 75 Suzuki, and drove through the store, out the doors, down the sidwalk, and back into the other doors singing "Taking Care of Business" at the top of his lungs. Gotta love a daddy with a sense of humor, and mine has one!

For just a moment I was 17 just out of high school with the whole world in front of me. For just a moment my daddy was young. For just a moment.

I don't know what they'll build there, but I'm guessing they'll cover those blue and red cement floors. And in a few years nobody will remember them.

Some change seems small and insignificant...but this one doesn't to me.

Jo Ann

Her name was Jo Ann Sachs. She was my mentor teacher when I first started teaching at West Point High School. I was miserable that year. I had to change classrooms 5 times a day. I had overcrowded rooms and some pretty disruptive students who gave me a run for my money. And I had an assistant principal who maintained that "boys will be boys" even if that meant they spit on the floor in the hall. Not a great year. By March I had had it. I told Jo Ann I was quitting and going home. She took me in her room, sat me down, and gave me a good lecture. So I stayed, but only because she convinced me it couldn't get any worse.

That summer I got divorced, and I was so grateful I had a job and so grateful to her for convincing me to stay. The assistant principal moved on, I got my own room, and things did get better.

That was the beginning of a friendship that spanned sixteen years. She was there for me every step of the rocky, bumpy road that has been my life. I'm not complaining. I have a great life, but like everyone else...I have had those times...

Six years ago she came looking for me. She came to my house first, but I wasn't home. Acting
on a hunch, and knowing me as well as she did, she found me at Berkley Bob's having coffee with our other dear friend, Wanda.

"I have breast cancer," she said.

If the road has been bumpy for me, those bumps pale in comparison to what she endured for the
next six years. There was a time we thought she would be okay. We laughed until we cried over the silliest things. We all met for coffee, went junkin together, pretended we really were going to do the crafts we bought all those books for.

Then, it was back with a vengeance. And she started giving me things. A book I said I liked; a Hummel figurine she bought for 25 cents at a yard sale; a big pewter thimble shot glass that says "Just a Thimble Full," a necklace she made just for me (she made all the West Point buddies one), and finally...on a day she could barely walk, she insisted on giving me a beautiful set of old mixing bowls because she knew I loved them. When I protested about her giving me things she would say, "I'm downsizing."

I knew she was going to die. The cancer had ravaged her body. She was so strong, so resolute. She didn't take pain medication until at the very end. She died with dignity.

But I wasn't ready to lose her. Selfishly I wanted her here to ease me over the bumps. We never talked about her dying. Maybe she had that conversation with Pat Tucker or Wanda Hyatt, but not with me. Once I sent her an email telling her how much she meant to me and how much I loved her. She never responded and she never mentioned it. But she loved me and I loved her. We talked about life and fun things...but never about death.

Life is full of changes. This one is painful. I need my friend. I miss her and I would give anything for one last, long, funny, serious talk. I love you Jo Ann. Thank you.

Another change...

I keep meeting myself walking in the door I'm so busy at work. Problem is...I can't really get in my door!

Francie is moving. We found her the perfect apartment just five minutes from Samford. She starts law school in just a few weeks, and I'm so excited for her. Having her home with me for the past year has been a gift, but it's time for her to start this new chapter in her life. But moving is just a messy, messy business, and if you don't believe it - come to my house. Or don't. Not now. Actually, I'm thinking if the health department visited, they may close me down.

I have an extra sofa in the living room, an assortment of dishes, linen, and furniture (in various stages of paint), and bags of clothes kind of strowed around the house. It's okay. In just a few short weeks my house will be clean...and very, very quiet. Too quiet I'm thinking.

The good news is Heidi and Francie will be in the same town, and I plan to visit them often enough to satisfy this mother's need to see her babies, but not often enough so they'll dread me coming. It's a fine line, but we've always been honest with each other, and I expect them to tell me when enough is enough.

So...big change for me, big change for Francie.

I'm so proud of my daughters. They have grown into smart, accomplished, funny, articulate, independent young women. And I'm proud of me. Because I'm smart enough to know when it's time to let go. Well...I'm smart enough to know that I AM supposed to let go. But maybe I can put that off for one more week. Or two :-).

Love you girls...conquer the world.

Mommy

Tennis Lessons, Cummings Sporting Goods, Shireen Coleman = Fun!

I walk, I go to the gym, I do Pilates at work at lunch when I can fit it into my schedule...but I've never had a sport. I thought about golf, but playing golf is a big commitment, both in time and money. I played a little golf before Francie and Heidi were born, but after they were born I got my workout in other ways. I also didn't want to spend that much free time away from them. I've always really LIKED my kids.

So, when Shireen texted me last week and asked if I'd like to take tennis lessons with her at Terri Pines, the answer was a big YES! I want to do something fun. I want to hit a ball with a racket and then run like crazy to hit it again. And again. And again. Theoretically that's what I'll do.

Of course I needed a racket, some long shorts, and some shoes that would help me fly across the court like a pro. So, off to Cummings Sporting Goods store I went. $160 later, I had my gear. I bought the last and only racket they had in stock, a pair of long shorts, an Under Armor tshirt, some volleyball shoes in Vinemont High School colors because they were the closest to Crimson and White I could find, and a pair of these amazing socks.

I bought volleyball shoes because they didn't have the exact tennis shoes I needed, but they were very helpful and explained why volleyball shoes would be okay on a tennis court, but they cautioned they would wear out faster than real "tennis" shoes. They fixed me up and I had fun in the store - always a plus when you have no clue what you're doing.

Who knew there were special volleyball shoes? I'm always amazed at how much I really don't know about a bunch of things. When I put my tshirt on Francie said, "You got an Under Armor shirt." I asked, "How do you know about Under Armor?" "Everybody does," she said. Well, everybody but me. I must live under a rock.

So, Shireen and I get to Terri Pines and the first thing Danny said to me was, "You must coach volleyball."

Shireen and I looked at each other and laughed out loud. Me? Coach anything? ( I was the drama coach at West Point, but we didn't have special shoes).

So, I asked him, "Why would you think I coach volleyball?"

"You have on volleyball shoes."

I really, really have to get out more.

We had fun. The tennis pro is a hoot. He talks really fast, told us his entire life story in the hour and forty-five minutes we were running and sweating and missing the ball, and he's just such a positive, encouraging guy it was easy to have fun. Two younger women joined us, and even though they had on cute tennis skirts, I decided I like them :-).

Danny told us we should start a league. I told him as soon as I could get the racket to actually connect with the ball...he could sign me up. I frequently have delusions of grandeur - and Chrissy Evert flashed through my mind. Sure, I'll play in a league :-).

Honestly, though, the guy's name is Danny Light and I think his last name describes him perfectly. He is just fun. We heard his entire life story, all about his wife and children, what he does for a living, how many surgeries he's had on his knee (which scared me a little)...and how to volley, serve, backhand, overhand, all that stuff I've never known what it meant. We had a blast.

So, my next big adventure involves learning how to have fun. I think this tennis thing is going to be fun. And good for me. The thing I've learned about going to the gym and working out or walking fast enough so it's difficult to breathe, is that five minutes into whatever the activity - my attitude adjusts. Stress melts away, work issues, personal problems...all that seems easier to manage after a good, hard workout.

And I'm just going to put this out there for the two of you who occasionally read this :-). My REAL goal is to hike the Grand Canyon rim to rim. Now that would be an adventure!

So Today's My Birthday!

So. Here it is. 55. As in 55 years old. How and when did this happen? I want time to slow down a little. I have so much to do and see and be…I know 55 is just a number and I’m actually only one day older than I was yesterday. And I know a woman is, theoretically, not supposed to reveal her true age. But who would I be kidding? I have enough people around me who have known me my entire life who would laugh out loud if I even tried to lie about my age. And what would be the point? So. I'm 55.

I qualify for free coffee at the fast food restaurants. Not that I GO to fast food restaurants – but if I did, they’d give me free coffee. Maybe I’ll start going just for the free coffee.

So. Here I am. 55. I’m trying really, really hard to muster up a little self-pity here. I’m trying to squeeze out an ounce of poor me and maybe even a little tear drop. Trying…trying…NOPE .

All I feel right now is a tremendous sense of freedom. I feel thankful and grateful to God that I’m here and I’m healthy and I have children who love me, friends who love me, the very best sister in the world, a healthy family – my mom and dad are still with me. Yes, my mother drives me nuts sometimes, but I’m so thankful she’s here to celebrate this day with me. Self-pity? Not today. Woohoo…I’m 55. What’s next?

The Next Grand Adventure

We moved when I was young. A lot. I remember one time, when I was about in the 3rd grade, the class assignment was to write a little "THEME" as they were called back then about how many times I had moved. It took Daddy, Talmadge, Mama, and Sue to figure up how many times we had moved. And they figured they had missed a few. The number was 32. And I was in the 3rd grade.

We weren't finished moving. We moved the next year to Florida for six months - where I went to two schools - one for 14 days. I tell everyone I'd find the lunchroom and the bathroom at a school and we'd move. At the end of that six months, we moved back to Denver. Then we moved  three or four more times in the Denver area, and finally, when I was fourteen, we moved to Alabama. I had the best childhood. I had the best people watching over me - Mama, Daddy, Talmadge, Sue, Montez, and Grandma.

Life with Johnny Butler was never, ever dull. I guess all those early moves, and the fact that Daddy never shied away from a challenge, has served as a model for me. Sometimes in a good way, sometimes I have totally missed the point. Daddy is pretty much fearless when it comes to a challenge and a change. So was Mama years ago when she left her home and family in Germany and followed Daddy to rural Alabama. I'm not quite as fearless as I used to be, but I also don't back down from change and challenge. Daddy and Mama have gone through many changes in their lives. The real constant with them has been each other. I'm not so good in that department.

I'll be 55 on Wednesday, and I find myself starting this new phase of my life in an altered set of circumstances. Maybe not quite as fearless as I was when I was 25, 35, 45...but still confident in the Next Grand Adventure. I'm not alone. I have a wonderful, loving, caring family...and I never underestimate the guidance of my Heavenly Father. I figure with a support system like that - the nex 45 years (yes, I plan to live to 100 so I can torture my great, great grandchildren with stories of my youth) - the next 45 will bring more change, more challenge...more adventure!

Do You Need Some Cucumbers?

It's nice to know that in the midst of significant life changes...some things remain the same. It will - someday - rain again, and we'll complain about the rain after a couple of days. Babies will creep, then crawl, then walk and we'll marvel at that progress like it's never been done. The dishes have to be washed, dried, and put away. Clothes washed, dried, ironed. Grass mowed.

And - in true southern fashion - people in our neck of the woods will offer cucumbers, squash, okra, tomatoes, peas - whatever they have, they'll share. That gift of sharing the bounty of their gardens touches me. It makes me so happy I live where I do and so grateful the people whose lives intersect with mine are who they are. Solid, dependable, generous, humble.

Today I visited with a sweet, precious friend. She's one of the smartest, most accomplished women I know. She's successful, self-assured, and funny as all get out. And - she's stuck in her dissertation process. I typed and cried my way through my dissertation three years ago, and it's a lonely, frustrating experience that seems to grow dendrites and take on a nightmarish life of its own. It was like I was stuck in one of those corn mazes people create around Halloween and there really was no way out. So I understand her frustration and I offered to help. She would do the exact same thing for me.

So as we worked through fifty or so pages of corrections (dissertation committees want it right), her phone rang. It was her mother calling. And this is what she said:

"Ask Vicky if she needs any cucumbers."

There it was. The offering. The heartfelt offering of food. It's how southerners show their love, show their appreciation, soothe heartbreaks, connect with one another. This beautiful, gracious, southern Mama brought me a bag of cucumbers - just picked and still warm from the sun.

It was the best gift.

So this evening Francie and I had fresh cucumber salad (made the way my mama makes it), fresh tomato salad (tomatoes from Doug Spradlin's farm), and new potatoes, also from Spradlin's farm.

Comfort food - made much better by the fact that the cucumbers were a gift and that I know the man whose labors produce those sweet, juicy tomatoes and heavenly new potatoes.

Some things change, and that hurts. But that hurt is tempered by the wonderful things that remain the same.

Thanks Leah's Mama...the cucumbers were delicious.

From the Rubble and Ashes...

Francie and I finally made the trek to Tuscaloosa on Sunday. She and Heidi have wanted to go since the moment after the tornado left Tuscaloosa. Heidi was busy with law school stuff, so she couldn't go...but she'll go soon.

I drove while Francie looked and took some pictures. "Oh my God," she said over and over. "I don't know where I am."

We took a couple of wrong turns simply because there were no familiar landmarks. Much like Cullman, beautiful old tree-lined streets are no longer tree-lined or beautiful. Even after more than a month, abandoned cars litter parking lots or are barely visible under piles of rubble and ash.

Sometimes change is like that. Sometimes the only things left after upheaval and change are rubble and ashes. Francie reminded me that Tuscaloosa was home to her and Heidi for four years. It was their town, and they loved being there. They liked to take me where they shopped and ate, and they liked to point out where this happened or that happened...where they all gathered after a ballgame...where they sat in the Ferg. It was their town for four years. Then things changed. They moved on. Heidi just finished second year law school; Francie starts law school in August. Positive change...forward movement. Tuscaloosa was still there - in their memories, but so much fun to visit and so filled with good memories. So even though they have moved on and changed, Tuscaloosa was there.

So, I understand Francie's sadness at seeing the change that happened in the blink of an eye in Tuscaloosa. Homes were lost, businesses destroyed...people died. And maybe the scariest part of change is the loss of familiarity.

But the human spirit is amazing. People volunteered and are still volunteering. In other parts of town, on a hot summer Sunday afternoon, life goes on. Restaurants were open, people were jogging, and high school boys in town for football camp were getting their pictures made with the new Nick Saban statue (so was Francie). So out of the rubble and ashes Change already has taken control of the situation. Life goes on.

Cheri Powell

My friend Cheri Powell is retiring after many, many years of teaching. Cheri is one of those rare people who everyone loves. You won't find a single person who has one bad thing to say about her - and I don't think I've ever heard her say anything bad about anyone. She's just the epitome of a truly nice person.

Yesterday I went to her retirement party at West Point Elementary. I laughed more than I have laughed in a very long time, and I realized why I miss being at a school. There was a sense of real family in the room. I saw and talked to my best friend from high school, and still one of my dearest friends, Rose Ann Thompson. The years fall away when we get together. To me, she looks exactly how she looked in high school - probably because she DOES still look how she looked. She's still beautiful. I saw and talked to so many people who have played so many different roles in my life - and who continue to do so.


Cheri was surrounded by people who love her and she handled every minute of the day the way she handles everything - with humor and grace and style. And while I know she'll miss THIS chapter in her life, I know - without a shadow of a doubt - she'll embrace the NEXT chapter with the same humor, grace, and style.

I want to grow up to be just like Cheri Powell :-). I want to handle THIS life transition of mine with the same humor, grace, and style. Of course I'll never be like Cheri...we're all different...and there is only one Cheri. But I can learn from her and use her as an example.

Thank you, Cheri, for everything you've done for the children and adults in your life so far...take a deep breath...the best is yet to come!

Empty, empty nest...

I have wonderful daughters. They're smart, funny, articulate, successful, beautiful...and gone :-). Well, almost. Francie is in and out, but she's moving to Birmingham in a couple of months to start the next phase of her life. We went yesterday to look for an apartment. She, Heidi, Joel, and I had lunch first. And it suddenly - or maybe not so suddenly - occurred to me that these two grown women are my children. And they're living their own lives and while I'm certainly a part of their lives, I'm not the center of their universes. Wait. Slow down here. So, after almost 26 years of intense parenting - you're cutting my hours?  What will I do with those hours? Francie pointed out that they were gone before now - they both were at Alabama and they weren't here then. But college seems a little temporary, and although I knew LOGICALLY they would never be back here with me, EMOTIONALLY I lied to myself :-).

So, I find myself in charge of a lot of extra hours. With nothing to do. Nobody needs me. The house is quiet. It's Sunday morning. I have the whole day to myself. Since Memorial Day is tomorrow, I have two whole days to myself.  Wow.

I'm not feeling sorry for myself. Nope. I did a great job of raising my daughters. They are off doing what grown daughters do - living their lives. Good for them.

Now it's time I get out of my comfort zone. Make new friends. Renew old friendships. Find a purpose other than work.

Yep, as Bob Dylan said, "the times they are a-changing." Transitions. Change = Excitement (before 10:00 p.m.), new faces, new adventures.

Repeat after me: Change is good. I believe that!

Change and Hope

"It's a New Day, and I'm Feeling Good." I love that song. Jennifer Hudson sings it in the Weight Watchers commercials and it always makes me want to be really good and lose 20 pounds.

Anyway, I love the idea that every day is a new day and that today may be the day that I get it all together. Today may just be that day. My day.

I hate to sound trite, but life is change. Okay...that's not so profound. But finding our way through change is profound. And fearful.

But...it's a new day...and I'm feeling good.