An Open Letter to My Grandchildren, On the Inauguration of Barack Obama

Dear Brody, Sarah, Charlotte, and Ephraim,

As I sit here watching the pomp and circumstance of the Inauguration of another American president, it has occurred to me that this president is the first to be elected during your lifetimes. Brody, you were born just three weeks after the presidential election of 2004, and Ephraim, your birth was nearly a year before Barack Obama was elected.

I hope by the time you are each able to read and understand these thoughts and observations that you will not think that this election was anything special. I hope that you will have seen Americans of all colors and ethnicities serving as leaders not only in government but in all walks of life. But today that is not the case. Today is special. Today brings tears to my eyes. Today Barack Obama becomes president of the United States of America. Today your Grama celebrates the country into which you were born.

Yesterday we celebrated the birthday of another great American, Martin Luther King, Jr. He died 40 years ago but in one of his last and most famous speeches he once said, “I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character.” Today feels like the beginning of the fulfillment of that dream, and I pray that this is the case.

I think that your parents, and parents everywhere, have that same dream for their children that Martin Luther King, Jr. had for his children. You are each named for people of character whom your parents love and admire; people who can serve as outstanding role models in your lives. I'd like to tell you what I know about them in the hopes that you will someday read this and understand a little about the character of the people whose names you share.



Brody, your middle name, Thomas, is for your granddad who is your mom’s father and my husband. He was a police officer who was respected by his fellow officers and his community. He received many awards during his career, but the one he told me he was most proud of was from a group called COUL (Community of Unified Leadership). This group was formed in 1971 to help the city of Anniston deal with racial problems. Your grandfather was the first (and maybe the only) police officer to receive this honor. This tells me that in his duties as a police officer he was recognized as someone who treated people with respect no matter the color of their skin. He also loves his family very much. He was a good son, an Eagle Scout, and he always studied hard in school. He has taught Sunday School, and always regularly attends church. He is a wonderful father to your mama and your Uncle Craig. He works hard, and he loves you with all his heart. Thomas is a name you should be very proud to share with him.


Sarah Lorraine, you have two names from two very special ladies. When your mom was only 16 years old she met a lady named Sarah Finch who was 87. They became great friends. She had a wonderful sense of humor and cared deeply about anyone who came into her life. She worked very hard her whole life and took care of her mama and her daddy and her husband when they were very sick. She loved your mama very very much, and your mom loved Sarah Finch so much that she always told her when she had a little girl she was going to name her Sarah. Lorraine is the name of my grama, your mom’s great-grandmother. She was the best grama a child could have and loved all of her grandchildren, but she cared about other people too. When I was a child she lived by the railroad tracks, and I can remember how “hobos” who would be passing through our town on the train would come to her back door and she would give them something to eat. They seemed to know that a kind lady lived in that house. Sarah Lorraine is your name now, Sarah, but it comes from two very loving and strong women. When your mama and daddy gave you that name I think they had hopes that you too will grow up to be as strong and loving as they were.




Charlotte, your middle name, Ann, is also your Grama Karen’s middle name. I have only known your Grama for a few years but I know her to be a wonderful person. She lovingly raised seven children, including your daddy, to be strong and caring adults. She also taught school for many years and helped other people's children, many of them black, Latino and Asian, learn not only their academic lessons but also about how to grow up to be good people. She and your Grampa Tom have counseled young married couples. She works hard in her church, volunteers in her community and is a loving grandmother to you and your cousins. I hope that you, Charlotte, grow up to share not only your Grama Karen's middle name but also her beautiful and loving spirit.




Ephraim, your middle name is McCray. It is the maiden name of your daddy's grandmother; your JoJo's mother. The only things I know about her is that your daddy loved her very much, and that she raised your JoJo. That alone tells me what a great woman she must have been because your JoJo is very special. She raised your daddy and your Uncle Tory to be outstanding men and fathers. She taught school for nearly 30 years, served in her church as an elder, a choir member, a worship leader, and a Sunday School teacher. She delivers meals-on-wheels, visits shut-ins, takes care of your Papa and loves you, Sarah and Lily with all her heart. I know your middle name McCray is special because it belonged to the woman who raised your JoJo to be someone who cares deeply about others no matter what their color or background. You will do well, Ephraim, if you remember where your middle name came from and that you share that family name and background with your very special JoJo.


So today as I watch the Inaguration of our first African American president, I think back on the history of this country and how far we have come, but I also look forward. I think of the four of you growing up in a country more inclusive than the one I came up in, and what that will mean for you. I think of your names and hope that you will each know and remember where your names came from. I think of Martin Luther King, Jr.'s dream and I hope that you will each grow to be caring adults who will be judged by others only by the content of your character.


But my most fervent prayer for you is that each of you will grow to be a member of that nation that Martin Luther King, Jr. spoke of. That nation that will judge others not by the color of their skin but by the content of their character. I pray that you will have friends of all races, ethnicities, religions, and backgrounds. And that you will not see or focus on the differences between you but on the things you all have in common. I pray that you will not see color but will always look for character in all who come into your lives.


Someday when you are older and I talk to you about what today means to me and maybe watch videos of it with you, and you see your old Grama getting sentimental and choked up, I hope you will try to understand, and that you will know the important history of what happened today. But I also hope that you will look at me and wonder "What is the big deal?" Someday, I pray it is no longer a big deal, but today it is. Today I celebrate the Inaguaration of the first president elected during your lifetimes, and the first African American president elected during my lifetime.


Love, Grama

Cloth Diapering circa 1978

Okay ladies, I know you are all excited about the prospect of using cloth diapers for your babies and I commend all of you for that! But remember, for your grandmothers cloth diapers were the only choice and oftentimes the diapers they used were made of the cloth from cast off clothing, and if your mothers used cloth diapers, most of them were probably doing it out of economic necessity as disposables were pretty expensive as I remember.

I personally feel that disposable diapers are an item whose time has come and GONE! (and I'm so glad you ladies are helping them to get on their way!) When my first child was born in 1978 disposable diapers were just beginning to come into the mainstream and were fast becoming the preferred way of diapering used by most of my friends. I kept some in the house to use for outings but quickly discovered that Meghan would break out with diaper rash if I used them so stuck strictly to cloth. Those of us back then who used cloth diapers were looked at as a little strange for not wanting to use such a modern convenience. I'm sure some folks look at you all that way now. But if others only knew how truly simple it is once you have a system down I think more parents would be willing to try it.

Our choices back then were flat-fold or pre-fold. I used flat fold. Basically a rectangular piece of diaper quality guaze that you folded to fit the size of your baby. (What many of you used as burp cloths) My mom recommended these as this is what she used and I remembered diapering my younger brother and sister using these. Both the flat-fold and pre-fold were used with diaper pins and rubber pants. The covers that are used now basically takes the place of pins and rubber pants as the velcro can be pulled tight enough to keep the diaper in place. The rubber pants of the past were made of plastic with elastic legs and waistband.

The diapers I used lasted through two babies, as well as the overlap time (about 15 months) when they were both in diapers at the same time. Because they were a flat piece of cloth instead of having the folds sewn in they were much easier to wash and dry. I used a diaper pail half full of water mixed with "Borax" in which the diapers would soak until ready to wash. When it was full I dumped the entire pail contents into the washer, spun out the "Borax" water, and washed. During the first year I used a dryer and because they were a single ply piece of cloth they dried very quickly. The last two years I did not have a dryer and in the winter sometimes had to use the radiators in each room of the house to hang the diapers. (Since the radiators were only allowed to be on about four hours a night I had to make sure on diaper washing day that they were all on the radiators by the time they were to be turned on). In the summer they hung on the line outside.

When they came out of the dryer or off the radiator or line I then folded them to fit the current size of my babies. When they were both in diapers I had two stacks of different sizes folded and ready for use. With newborns one diaper was enough, but as they grew I usually folded two diapers together for each diaper change.

During a diaper change sometimes I used "diaper liners". These were small blue disposable inserts that would catch the poop and make it easier to clean the diaper after a bowel movement. These were not disposable at that time and eventually I just quit using them and rinsed the diaper directly into the toilet if necessary. I've noticed on-line that you can now get biodegradable flushable inserts to use inside cloth diapers.

For "wipes" I just used washcloths. Before getting ready to change my baby I would let the water run warm, wet a washcloth with the warm water and then use it during the diaper change. After use it went into the diaper pail with the diaper.

As I read the systems you have all created for yourselves, I have to admire you for going against the mainstream and doing what you feel is best for your babies, your pocketbook, your families and the environment. Thanks for all of your blogs -- it's a joy to see what you are all doing with your children and babies and be carried back to that joyous time in my own life....

Loss

In May I received a phone call from Anniston. Rebecca wanted to let me know of Judy's death. She had been sick with congestive heart failure and under hospice care for most of the previous year but it still came as a shock. We had stayed in touch after my move to Tennessee through sporatic and spontaneous phone calls. We talked as we had when we were together; solving the world's problems in one breath, not giving a flip in the next.


We were destined to become friends after many chance meetings during our years in Anniston. She had returned to care for her ailing mother at about the same time I had moved there with my family. She visited in my home one evening at the invitation of a mutual friend. I sat in awe of her intelligence, her wisdom, and her grace. Months later she visited a PFLAG meeting I often attended in support of my gay nephew. She was doing research for a series of columns she was writing for the local newspaper. Months after this in November 2002 we met together with many others on a cold rainy night for a candlelight vigil for peace. In early 2003 Judy and I stood together often on the corner of 11th and Quintard holding signs protesting the build-up to the Iraq war. The cracked cement of that sidewalk served to bond us together as friends.


Despite being a fairly recent transplant to Anniston, Judy had many friends in our little town. And she felt it her duty to make sure they all knew each other. She strived to introduce friends from one part of her life to friends she knew in other ways. (A new friend of mine here in Tennessee who has worked with Native Americans her entire life and is married to a Cherokee, says that this is the Indian way -- when they meet someone new, the question is not, "what do you do or where do you work?" but "who do you know?" Your friends are your credentials. Judy shared this value). Because of this I met many folks I would not otherwise have known. She loved good conversation, discussion, and debate, and never hesitated to arrange lunches, dinners, and get-togethers among all kinds of folks to facilitate this love.

Judy loved to help folks with their problems. She especially gave sage advice when it came to interpersonal relationships. She had a way about her that made people want to open up. She told it like she saw it, and often that meant telling people things they didn't want to hear. But they always listened and often came back for more. From her closest friends to those she had just met; if she knew your story and you asked for her opinion, you would get it. If you were in her life for whatever reason, she wanted to know you. As you talked, she made you feel like the most important person in her life. And while she was with you, you were. She cared deeply about those in her ever-expanding circle. Her circle included the waitresses at her favorite restaurants, her hospice home health aids, and the mechanic who serviced her car, as well as her close friends. I once returned to the Starbucks's patio after ordering our coffees to find that in a short few minutes she had engaged a young woman sketching images, and that interest had encouraged this budding artist to share her entire sketch pad with Judy. That's how she was with folks.

As sad as I was when I heard of Judy's passing, I had to smile a few days later when I read her initial obituary in the Anniston Star:

"ANNISTON - Funeral services for Mrs. Judy D. Simmons, 62, of Anniston will be announced later by Ervin Funeral Chapel. Mrs. Simmons died Sunday, May 6, 2007 at Regional Medical Center. "

After reading this I shook my head in disbelief. Judy was a part of the women's rights movement from waaaaay back. She was a card-carrying member of NOW and an editor at Ms magazine. She was NEVER a Mrs. and she was "Judy Dothard Simmons". I did not have to wonder at what her reaction would have been.

I recently found this obituary while doing a google search of her name. A much more appropriate and fitting announcement of her departure from this life:

Judy Simmons, Editor and Writer, Dies at 62
Judy Dothard Simmons, 62, a poet, journalist, author and broadcaster, died May 6 in Anniston, Ala., from heart complications, her friend Fern Gillespie said.
Since the 1970s, Simmons' writings and broadcasts won her acclaim. She had been a senior editor at Essence and Ms. magazines, managing editor of the NAACP's Crisis magazine, a columnist for the old Africana.com and an editor at Black Enterprise. During the early 1980s, she had radio talk shows on New York's first black commercial talk station, WLIB, and on Pacifica's WBAI-FM. Her articles appeared in the Village Voice and American Legacy Woman, and she had been a guest on the Phil Donahue show.
During the 1990s, Simmons returned to Alabama and was a columnist for the Anniston (Ala.) Star. A celebrated poet, she was a Revson Fellow at Columbia University and did graduate work in poetry. Simmons was the author of several books of poetry and essays, including "Decent Intentions," "Judith's Blues," and "A Light in the Dark." She was also a contributor to "Wild Women Don't Wear No Blues," a 1993 collection edited by Marita Golden.
Funeral arrangements are pending. She wrote recently, "I'm listening to the fine classical jazz collection I've amassed over the years, putting my affairs in order, loving my dog and my friends, and generally having a good time for the first time in fifteen or twenty years. I am walking through the valley of the shadow of death and feeling damn good about it. I fear no evil, for I AM always and ever living."

RIP Judy. I miss you.

Musings

I've started following the Core Plan with Weight Watchers. Amazing how much more satisfying it is than the Flex Plan, and the weight is coming off much more quickly. And I'm learning how to cook all kinds of things I would never have tried before. Eight pounds down in three weeks!

I will soon be heading down to Huntsville to take care of Sarah while Erin gives birth to Ephraim. Looking forward to getting the call to hit the road!

No plans for Thanksgiving. This feels strange. Haven't even purchased a turkey. Not knowing if we will be in Huntsville or home so haven't made any plans. If we are home we will figure it out. Flexibility is the key.

Tom and I recently returned from a few days in Puerto Rico. Lived in Panama for two years and loved it but don't think I would do well permanently living somewhere with no change in seasons.

On that note, had our gas logs checked out and pilot turned on this week. So nice to walk by and flip a switch -- swoosh! My dad, who has chopped and carried wood for many years to heat my parents' home, loved that switch when they visited last year!

My nephew, Jake, is doing well in the Navy. Finished the first portion of his A-school, has moved on to the second phase. Should be done by Christmas and then have his first permanent orders in hand.

Our next door neighbors, Marv and Carolyn, are the best! Anytime we are out of town they take in our sweet dog, Cali, and love her like their own. They spoil her so much that we have dubbed them Cali's "grama and grampa". We owe them many thanks for helping us out with our pooch.

This house is feeling exactly like home. Craig was here this week for a couple days. He asked me if I missed the Elizabeth Street house. I had to say no. I rarely if ever think of that house. This house is my home and I've loved turning it into that.

Remedy to help me fall asleep. I was a Navy wife for many years and lived in many different dwellings. So, when I'm having trouble getting to sleep I think back to each home I've ever lived in and try to remember the furniture arragement of each room. It is a good mental exercise but I usually fall asleep by the second or third house.

Tom brewed his first batch of beer a couple months ago. It was good, and has been shared with friends and family. He decided to do this while enjoying beer made by Brent (Erin's hubby). Now, after visiting and tasting some of this first batch, Craig's friend, Stephen, has purchased a kit and decided to whip up a batch of his own!

Plan to try and do better with blogging. I've started many over the past few months but never finished.... today is a new day!

Being Aunt Terry

There is something about your siblings' kids… When they are babies you want to scoop them up, you stare in wander at the babies they are. You laugh with their parents as they learn to walk and talk. You listen as they relay their concerns about your niece or nephew and their development. Sometimes they call you up just to share a laugh about the funny thing they said. Okay, I know I’m mainly talking about my sister – she and I have talked a lot about our kids over the years, and I feel fortunate that Meghan and Erin who are now adults, consider their Aunt Lori one of their best friends.

But here I am, Aunt Terry. Aunt to mostly boys who are actually pretty unknown creatures to me. My sister’s boys, Noah and Aaron, are at that age (17 and 13) where they aren’t much interested in their own parents, much less a much older Aunt Terry. I enjoy them when I’m in California and we have some funny memories…. Noah at three answers my question “Who’s the best Aunt Terry in the world?” “You’re not!” Funny, that’s not how he answered when Lori asked “Who’s the best mom in the world?” Aaron at five looking up at me when I picked him up from kindergarten one day, “You look like my mom.” Thanks, Aaron – nice to look like a ten year younger sister! Noah sitting on my lap at four, rubbing my face, finding a few stray chin hairs, “You have a beard! Yuck!” Aaron at 12 patiently explaining to his non-California residing Aunt about what skim-boarding is and why he likes it so much. Taking Aaron to the movies to see “Dead Man’s Chest” and getting the tip that we need to buy candy elsewhere because it’s cheaper!

My brother Gary’s kids, Sheri and Kevin, are about the same age as Noah. I see and hear about them even less than I do Noah and Aaron. Gary and I just don’t have the kind of relationship where we call each other and talk about our kids. But I do see them whenever I’m in town and am in awe of how quickly they have grown. Sheri is beautiful and lives on her own now; a young apartment-dweller with a roommate and a full-time job. Kevin is a high school junior; tall, handsome, athletic and focused on a career in law enforcement. Gary and Dana have much to be proud of with these kids.

My brother Mark’s son, Jake, is the reason I started this post. He’s been in my thoughts a lot this past month. He was born in 1983 just as my family began four years of residence just 40 miles from my hometown. I saw him grow from a baby into a toddler and preschooler. He and Mark lived with my parents so whenever we visited he was there growing and changing and wanting to play with Meghan and Erin, his older cousins, who were always fun and patient with him. I saw as he became the light of my grandmother’s eyes during her final years. She lived with my parents and took care of him when everyone else in the house was at work. He loved nothing better than to spend time in her room playing with his cars, sitting on her lap, riding on the back of her wheelchair or whatever else he could talk her into playing with him. He knew loss at a very early age when she died and he was barely six years old. But he and Mark continued to live with Mom and Dad, he grew up surrounded by people who loved him. His dad, his grandparents, his maternal grandmother and aunts who spent time with him whenever they could. But he never had much of a relationship with his own mother; she was in and out of his life, had two more children younger than Jake to take care of and never seemed to worry much about her oldest son. Jake became a black belt in tae kwon do, learned to hunt with his grandfather (my dad) graduated from junior high and high school (my favorite picture of his high school graduation shows him beaming between his grandmothers – his surrogate mothers). He began working for the local school district as a janitor. During the years since high school he seems to have lost his way… he lost jobs, wrecked cars, drank too much, smoked too much (of everything). He ended up without a job and living in a small camping trailer in my parent’s backyard.

His life was going nowhere fast and our parent’s limited retirement income was supporting him. My sister and I had had enough and decided to have an “intervention”. We tried to include Mark and Gary. Mark said he was too close to the situation but he would support whatever we said, Gary opted out because he was afraid of his reaction if Jake “gave him attitude”. So Lori and I began the task… and at first, we got attitude. Jake accused us with our “perfect lives” of looking at him and judging. But then the tide turned, my sister was amazing. She wore down the attitude, she made him look her in the eye, she held his face in her hands, looked him straight in the eye and told him she knew his life had not been easy, that he had not had the best parents in the world, but that she knew he was BETTER than living in a camping trailer in his grandparents’ backyard. Lori talked to him about how depressing it must be to live in that trailer, how upsetting to live off his grandparents, how we knew he didn’t want to live like that but that he needed help to get out of the rut he was in. He cried with us, we stroked him, we supported him, we helped him look at his options, and we eventually helped him make the decision to join the Navy. We took him to the Navy recruiter’s office the next day. It’s been a month since then, he has had some ups and downs, but today he goes to the military in-processing center for his physical, his PT test, the ASFAB test, career counseling, and should be sworn in tomorrow. I’m proud of him for doing this and can’t wait to see how his life will unfold with this new opportunity. But the comment from him that I will always hold close to my heart is what he said when we were all laughing as we left the recruiters’ office that first time. One of the recruiters thought I was his mother, Lori (ten years younger than me and only 20 years older than Jake) was just glad they didn’t think she was his mother. Jake just sat in the back seat as we laughed and said, “I wish.”
Not living near my hometown for the past 35 years has definitely affected the relationships I could or would have had with my siblings’ children. Whenever I’m home and see them all I often wish for a closer relationship but my brothers and sisters have done well by their children and I couldn’t be prouder to call all of them niece and nephew.
Here are some pics with my nephews included. First one, that is Aaron and Noah on the left. Second one, there is Kevin back row left and Jake (Seaman Recruit Jacob D. Keith) front right. Love you guys!!!!

Settled

That is how I’m feeling right now. We have been in the house for over a month now and it feels like home. It is home. The furniture is placed just the way I had it planned on paper (with a couple of changes). It is a comfortable place where Tom and I can spend time together, throw parties, welcome weekend company, and get to know our new neighbors.

We have already thrown one party. About two weeks ago we welcomed the managers from Tom’s place of employment. Eighteen folks joined us for burgers on the deck, college football in the “TV room” and visiting in the kitchen-living-dining area. I enjoyed giving “tours” of our new home and sharing the space with others.

Our first over-night company arrived the day after we moved in. Jennifer and Brody made the three hour trip up from Alabama and were a great help in getting all of the boxes unpacked. Twenty-two month old Brody’s job was to remove any green inventory stickers he could find on all of the the furniture (I think I will be finding those for the next year!), and Jennifer was a master at unpacking all of the dining room boxes full of glassware, dishes, and knick-knacks. When I was ready to call it a day, she would say, “only two more, let’s do the rest!” She was a great help and I appreciate all the work she (and Brody!) did to help our house become our home.

The following week Erin and Sarah arrived for a week long visit. Most of the boxes had been emptied and put away by then so we had some time to play. We found most of the nearby thrift stores, and visited some of the antique stores I have been eyeing during my travels in the area. Sarah loved the living room and its echo. As soon as Erin put her down on the carpeted floor of the TV room she would head out the door toward the hardwoods of the living room, go down one large sized step, sit on the throw rug and holler just to hear the echo. We would follow her and there she would sit – grinning at us. I started calling it her “magic carpet”.

Craig and a friend of his from Anniston came up a couple weeks ago. They liked the house but were mainly here to check out the Nashville night life. Tom took them downtown to some of the local “watering holes”. The Flying Saucer, Crazy Horse Saloon, and Coyote Ugly are the only ones that come to mind right now. After a quick twenty-four hours visit they were on their way back to Alabama.

We have met lots of our neighbors during walks around the neighborhood. Our next door neighbors, Marv and Carolyn, have been great. Carolyn and I have been walking about a mile together every morning at 7:00. Cali loves it and has definitely figured out the routine. As soon as I start putting my shoes on she is racing toward the front door. They are going to keep Cali for us during the next week while we are in Boston – I have a feeling they will be spoiling her with lots of table scraps!

We have been attending the same church (First Presbyterian Gallatin) for the month since we moved. We enjoy the pastor’s messages, and have been attending the Sunday School class he teaches also. Most of the people have been friendly and we are hoping to get to know them better as we get more involved in the life of this church.

All in all, it has been a good move. The time Tom and I finally have to be together every day for dinner and the evening is wonderful. I miss all of my friends in Anniston and our little church full of wonderful friends and family, but we will be back for a visit soon. Three and a half hours is not all that long when you have such great folks to look forward to seeing.

...for the last time

I'm meeting my friend Sue for lunch today after the weekly "Pause for Prayer" service at our local "Disciples/Christian" church. I have been attending this service for nearly four years since its inception. I made the comment to Sue that we needed to meet for a late lunch so I could attend this service "for the last time". Her response was that sounded so final...

Well, I guess things are pretty much finalizing. I am doing many things this week that I have done often but will do "for the last time" during the next few days. That is not to say that I won't do some of them again when we arrive here in Anniston for a visit but no longer on a regular basis as a resident.

Today is my last "Pause for Prayer." Rebecca Littlejohn's pastoral prayer during this short half hour of my life has fed my soul each week. Today is my last lunch with Sue -- our friendship was sealed in 2001 when I became a Big Sister in the Big Brother Big Sister program and she interviewed me for the position.

This past weekend Tom and I did the yard for the last time. Mowed, trimmed and blown, we are glad to have that chore behind us. The house does look beautiful after each cleaning but I'm glad we are getting out of here before all these leaves start falling in the yard and pool and driveway....

Judy and I hung-out and played for the last time last Thursday night. Dinner at Outback and a "Frappacino" on the Starbuck's patio. We talked and laughed and loved each other. I will miss our "girlfriend" time.

Brody spent the night in this house with grandad and grama for the last time on Sunday night. The first time he stayed here with us he was less than a month old. He discovered the empty closets -- hiding in them and then yelling "Where's Brody?" Such a delight!

Sunday afternoon Tom drove us on a tour of Anniston for the last time. We drove through the neighborhoods where we both had lived; past houses that had sheltered us over the years. The apartment he lived in when he met Lynn. The houses where he took his newborns home so many years ago. The house where Stan and I first moved our family when we arrived in Anniston fresh from navy retirement 15 years ago.

Today and tomorrow I will probably visit the local "thrift stores" for the last time. Yes, despite packing and preparing to move all of this stuff I still search out the local thrifts just to see what I might find... (we are moving to within five miles of a Goodwill Supercenter!)

This afternoon our home buyers are coming by for a visit. I will show them how to vacuum and care for the pool during this time. This will be the last time for me and the first of many for them. It can actually be a very relaxing chore but I don't think I will really miss it much!

Wednesday night Tom and I will take Craig, Jenn and Brody out to dinner for the last time. We will all sit together as Brody entertains us and I will remember the first time I met this "Wright Family" and how often we have sat together like this.

Wednesday night I will also turn the white mini lights on and sit out on the deck for the last time. I will remember the good times spent out there with family and friends. I will give thanks for this place and my heart will ache just a little...

On Thursday at around noon Tom and I will pull out of the driveway and make our way down Elizabeth Street. At the bottom of the hill we will pass Tenth Street School and First Presbyterian Church . No longer residents of Anniston we will drive on past Mike's Tire and Auto, the post office, Mata's Greek Pizza and Grinders, Dad's BBQ, Martin's Department Store, Smith Cleaners, and Carpenetti's Italian Restaurant. Later that afternoon our new adventure will begin when we cross the Alabama-Tennesee stateline "for the first time" and head on to our new home....

Obsessed

My daughters can attest to the fact that I have a somewhat obsessive streak to my being (Erin has inherited it, I think)... and it has caused me to be obsessed with this move. I pack by day using all of the tricks I watched the packers use during my many past moves. I mark the boxes with the room where the box should be delivered. I try to not combine too many items from different rooms in the same box to keep from having to sort too much at the destination. I worry about some of my antiques being lost or damaged in the move. But, oh, how I'm looking forward to the new house....

So, I spend most of the days packing, staying up until midnight some nights, and then fall asleep exhausted only to wake a few hours later thinking about the new house. I toss and turn planning the furniture placement, the closets, the stereo speakers and wiring, the silverware drawers and cupboards. I think of the furniture I want to paint and refinish before putting it in the house, I wonder which color rugs to order for the hardwood floor areas and if the curtains I have will fit the new windows. If I'm lucky I go back to sleep within an hour or so.

Some nights I think about what my life will be like in the new house. The biggest change is that Tom and I will be together every night! We can actually have dinner together, take walks in the evening, and enjoy having a normal life rather than one where he is home only on weekends. I think about making friends and finding a church. I hope for a friend or two among our neighbors in "Chestnut Glen". I think about the friends I have here in Anniston and how I will miss them all terribly. Even though I don't see many of them on a regular basis it is nice to have lived in a place long enough to expect to run into someone you know at the grocery or hardware store or restaurant. I hope that some of them will come up to Nashville for a visit. It will be nice to get settled in Tennessee but I know that a part of my heart will stay here in Anniston just as part of it still lives in the California area where I spent my childhood and where much of my family still lives.