Musician's Widow

High school rock stars

There’s a Cross Canadian Ragweed song that says, “You’re always 17 in your hometown.” And in a lot of ways, its true. I don’t know what it is about rolling into your hometown that slips you back into that mode. You remember your high school glories. Suddenly I find myself walking with that old swagger. I look around and, while many things have changed, I find a deep comfort in how much is still the same.

I’m in my hometown right now, working at the family business. The other day, I had to make a trip over to the pharmacy. I forgot to pack allergy pills and had to go grab myself a bottle to get through the change in climate and geography.

As I went to leave, I noticed a couple cars in the parking lot. Probably 7 or 8 high school aged kids were hanging out. I had my windows up so I couldn’t hear if they were jamming out to tunes or anything.  But I recognized that swagger in their step. I recognized the attitude in how they  leaned against the cars. This town is THEIR town right now. They are the keepers of the school’s spirit.

It made me smile. It made me actually shake my head to realize none of them were even in school when I was in their shoes. It didn’t make me feel old, as I thought it would. It just made me realize that time moves on, and they are where they are to be and I am where I am meant to be. I wouldn’t trade places with them for all the money in the world.

I may be in my  hometown… but I am most definitely not 17. And I am totally happy in that fact.

We made it home to Nashville from Texas yesterday morning. The 13 hour drive seemed longer than usual, and I attribute that partly to our lack of being in any hurry to come back. We just had that fabulous of a time!

Our plans to head to Oregon for Christmas were canceled thanks to budget concerns and the crazy-high prices of flights at the holidays. So we instead headed to Texas to spend the holiday with my family. Amusingly, the weather, for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, was all Oregon. Misty rain and cold. But our visit ended with warmer temps and sunshine.

I have to say… there was just something about this Christmas. It was so relaxed! It was just filled with this wonderful peace and joy. Its impossible to explain, but it was a special trip for sure. And while my husband and I knew we had to make the trip back home to Nashville to work this weekend, we just couldn’t get motivated to actually leave. We put it off as long as we could before making the long drive back.

Now, any time I am back in Texas, I have this little (okay maybe its kind of long) list of places I’d love to visit and things I’d like to do. I usually do good to knock one or two of the items off the list. This trip? I knocked off more than my fair share of things!

I got to see family, of course. Quality time with my parents, brother, sister-in-law, niece and nephew is priceless, and always at the very top of the list. I have cousins I’d really like to get to spend time with as well, but those visits tend to be rare just due to time constraints. I got to see one of my girl friends to do a quick gift exchange. But friends’ visits will have to wait until I am down for an extended period of time for tax season. And that’s okay… we can spend more time than the rushed visits of the holidays.

Food: Whataburger! Freebirds! Mexican food in general! Green’s Sausage House! Czech Stop! Hiway 77 Cafe! Blue Bell and Dr Pepper! (Granted I can get both of those in Nashville, too, but they just taste better when actually IN Texas.) Places: Aggieland! Frenstat, where my husband and I got married, and where my grandparents are all buried. Cavender’s Boot City!

I got to do all of these things! Crazy cool, I gotta admit. Oh, I always leave things left undone. We wanted to go for a drive in my old truck from high school. There are various people we would love to go visit. And there are locations we always want to take time to explore, but we rarely have time to do so.

But you know, that’s a good thing. I would hate to ever leave not wanting more time.

Time visiting Texas is precious to me. Nashville is definitely home, but I’m a Texan at heart for life. And a Texas Christmas? Well… that’s just something super special to me. Now I look ahead to a planned trip to Oregon in the next couple of months. Ready to go experience my husband’s home with him and embrace his list of things to do. Bring it on!

If you search my Flickr photostream for the word “Fall” you get 136 photos back… a lot when you consider that I’m pretty sure I’ve failed to tag all my fall photos with “Fall” and I’ve only been seriously keeping up my Flickr page for about three years.

Growing up in Texas, Fall basically meant football season. The temperatures would go from sweltering to warm with the occasional chill in the wind. Past that, Fall = Football. Period.

Oh okay, it meant a bunch of birthdays, Halloween and Thanksgiving. And school pictures. But past that? Fall colors were what you saw only by cutting out construction paper leaves. You saw them in decorations bought at arts & crafts fairs. Or you saw them in magazines and on TV. But in Texas? It just goes summer leaves to no leaves at all in the blink of an eye. No magical color change.

Then I moved to Tennessee.

I still remember I had just recently moved here, and I was driving to our apartment from the store and I was struck by the colors all around me. I called my brother to squeal on his voicemail about how pretty it was. I don’t know why that memory remains with me, but it does.

Fall tends to not love me back. I get a yearly sinus infection, and I end up staring out the window at the pretty in misery. But it never stops me from still anticipating the season with glee.

My first visit to a "pumpkin patch" in 2006

Pumpkin patches to visit. Corn mazes to traverse.

There’s Pumpkin Spiced Lattes to drink.

Its time to get out warmer clothing.

And the colors… oh the colors! It starts with a little tinge of color in a tree here and a tree there. Then you start to notice all the trees are slowly changing from green to reds, yellows and oranges. The leaves that have already fallen crunch under your feet as you walk through the grass, and they speckle the drive way with their brilliant beauty.  Sometimes when the wind blows, they fall around you like glitter.

My husband and I like to go on drives through the country to look at all the colors. Those construction paper leaves of elementary school have nothing on the real thing! I stare out the window — be it my living room window or the passenger side window of our truck — in awe. Mesmerized by the changes this season brings.

We’ve had our first freeze warning of the year… though the extreme cold is short lived for now. We’ll be back in the 70s this weekend, just in time for a group trip to a corn maze where we’ll laugh and get lost among the cornstalks. A hayride will make us feel like kids again, and a cup of apple cider will warm the soul as much as the tummy.

Yes, Fall is definitely my favorite season of the year. And I plan to enjoy everything I can about it before winter gets its grip on the area.

Over a year ago, I got a taste of a flood. My husband and I were spared from losing anything, but we watched as our fellow Nashvillians watched their homes be destroyed by rising waters.

Today, I sit from afar with my heart breaking over the wildfires in Texas. This drought… this horrible, horrible drought that I wrote about just a couple weeks ago left me with a fear… a fear that is being realized today. Already back in July, I looked around and thought, “One, just ONE carelessly tossed cigarette out of a car could destroy so many homes… could take lives.” The grass crinkled under your feet, parched and dry. It would only take a spark… only take a single spark.

This last weekend, a fire broke out in my hometown. It was, thankfully, contained without loss of life, but not without the loss of a home. It started due to a squirrel getting caught in an electrical wire… something that would make a person chuckle, or that would perhaps not be a big deal “normally” set off chaos and destruction.

When I read about the fire, my heart sank. The area of town being one I know well — one I could envision as vividly as if I was there — made the news so hard to take. I called immediately to find out what I could, to make sure others were okay. My greatest fears with this drought we being realized…

…then right on the heels of that came news of the Bastrop fire. I worried suddenly about anyone and everyone I know or knew who lived there. Were they okay?  I’ve watched the footage on TV. I’ve read many articles on-line. I’ve looked at countless images. They all tug hard at my heart. Reports of fires in California each year strike up an emotional response as well. I try to imagine being in the victims of the fires shoes. But the fear I’ve felt the last few days, as I watch Texas burn, just took that same emotional response and cranked it up to about a 15.

In an almost cruel irony, Nashville has had rain the past two/three days. Our temperatures setting new record low highs. I wished I could send the rain to Texas. I wished I could somehow capture it, and send it down in tanker trucks. I wished they’d just get a break already.

I feel so helpless… so lost on what I can do. I did at least (after several various Google searches) find this list of organizations working to help the victims of these fires. Many of these are for local assistance, but others have addresses where donations can be sent to help. I plan to do what I can to help from here. Perhaps I can hatch a plan of my own, but until then… I am grateful there are organizations out there with the means to help.

Let’s just look at that map for awhile.

I said awhile back with the extreme heat in Texas, “What? Is Texas the new Arizona?” I was joking, but as I stare at that map, I can’t help but wonder. It’s so hard to comprehend from here in Tennessee, where we’ve been blessed with rain through the summer. My yard is a lush, thick green carpet. The lake is nice a full. I’ve fallen asleep to a thunderstorm recently.

However, down in Texas, its a whole different story. The last time I was down, it was definitely already staggering how dry it was… and that was about a month ago, now. National news has been covering the drought here and there, but I know the news reports are nothing like being there in person. Temperatures have been 100+ for days on end, setting records. And the lakes… they’re hardly lakes.

I may be a Nashvillian now, but I am forever in my heart a Texan. And that same heart aches to see the footage of the drought. It aches for the many farmers who have lost their crops and who are losing their cattle due to lack of feed and water.  I don’t think much of the nation realizes what kind of economic impact this drought will have for a long, long time.

Water… its a natural resource we seem to take for granted. But right now, the people of Texas are crying out for it. They are desperate for rain. They are desperate for a break in the high temperatures. Cities that usually have plenty of water in reserve are having to tap into their back-up sources, further draining lakes. As I witness many watering their lawns here, I can’t help be think about those who are just hoping they’ll have water to drink in days and weeks to come down in Texas.

I ask, please, if you’re a believer in God… take this moment to say a short prayer for a break for the people of Texas (and for all those affected by the drought.) Pray for rain.

If you need help with that, beliefnet posted this prayer in July:

“God, you send rains in season. It is a season of need in Texas. Send more rain to that parched land and more again across all the thirsty southern states. Find a small and willing cloud sitting bored over some vacant part of the Caribbean, and give it a push toward Houston. Make a Hurricane, perhaps, not strong enough to destroy, but filled with warmed moisture and send it North. We ask you for rain. Let the drought unite many millions to ask you for help. We trust in you. You made the world to need the waters of heaven. You made the world to need the waters of life. You are the source of rain. We ask you. Let it rain. In Jesus name.”

If you are curious for more details about the drought, check out these articles:

• More Western towns adopt ‘toilet to tap’ strategy to conserve water
• Drought reminds us that water controls destiny
• Texas Farm Losses Reach Record $5.2 Billion After Drought, University Says
• The Long-Term Consequences of Texas’ Worst Ever Drought
• No relief in sight for deadly Texas drought conditions
• Texas Drought Will Harm Ecosystem for a Long Time [PHOTOS]

No wedding is perfect. Anyone who looks me in the eye and says their wedding was absolutely flawless is either lying or they had quite the support team in place to keep them from knowing about any hiccups that occurred.

For example, at my wedding the DJ was less that stellar. Oh I take some of the blame for perhaps not being clear enough with him about what was expected. But past that, how many times does a bridesmaid have to come tell you what kind of music to play before you figure out you’re doing it wrong?

My point is, I’ll say my wedding was perfect… but even in that, we had our hiccups.

So, going into the wedding this last weekend — especially as MOH,  not knowing the other bridesmaids very well — I was prepared for almost anything. I even came armed with leopard print duck tape.

Flat iron? Check.

Hairspray? Check.

Lip gloss and perfume? Check.

Band aids? Check.

Extra shoe insoles? Check.

Safety pins, nail clippers, wet wipes, Pepto, Advil, extra colors of lipstick? Check, check, check, check, check and check.

Scissors? Damn.

Well, so I forgot something. Again, not perfect. But I tried.

The ceremony was beautiful. The reception was a blast. No, things didn’t go 100% according to plan, but  you know… it still went great. The bride and groom were named man and wife. Toasts were made. Dances were danced. The cake was cut and the bouquet tossed. It was beautiful.

Oh I have a million stories I dare not share to the world. What happens in the bride’s room, stays in the bride’s room, after all! Though no promises that they won’t find their way into a novel some day…

Let’s just say that leopard print duck tape came to some interesting uses…