Community

As I've mentioned before, moving back in with my parents has been a very humbling experience...especially now that most of my friends from this side of the U.S. are married with children or well on their way towards one or both.  I've been in a place that is overwhelmingly career-centered for so long that I've had to readjust to a family/community-centric atmosphere.  However, though there were several reasons I had to return to Alabama, this community is one of the reasons that I wanted to move back.  Everywhere I've lived, I've met kind, caring people who have gone the extra mile to help me when I needed it...but thus far, I've never found another community like the one in which I grew up.

The night before last, one of the pillars of my church and my childhood passed away.  A man who made sure the church air conditioning was turned off after service and the doors were locked.  A man who cut the grass at the local recreation center with little recognition.  A man who came to the aid of his neighbors with no hesitation.  A man with whom I talked Alabama football at last Saturday's fall festival.  Even with older people, it's hard to come to terms with the here today and gone tomorrow part of life.  It's hard to reconcile the fact that I shook his hand on Sunday, but I won't next Sunday.  Things change in the blink of an eye.  People are gone in an instant.  It makes you realize the fragility of life...and the importance of the imprint that's left behind.  For this man, it's his selflessness...and I believe that's one of the most cherished imprints of all.

Now that it's this man's family who are in need, the people of the community are rallying around them.  As soon as the news began to spread, ladies headed to their kitchens to make sure the family wouldn't have to worry about food while they grieved and made preparations...and men asked what they could do to make things a little easier.  And tonight, a line will form outside the funeral home as people - one-by-one - offer their condolences, pay their respects, and share their memories.  Though it will all go by in a flurry for the family that lost their loved one unexpectedly, someday soon they'll look back and be humbled by the seemingly unending supply of shoulders to cry on and arms reaching out for support.  I know this because I've stood in their places before...and inevitably I will again...but every time I witness this outpouring of love and consideration, I am even more amazed at the power of a community to pull together just at the moment they're needed.

Am I suggesting that my community is perfect?  No, certainly not.  Some days it feels that more of the news circulating around is bad rather than good.  People struggling, people suffering, people getting into trouble of this sort or that...just like most everywhere else in the world.  I'm not even trying to convince you that it's better than your community...but it's a wonderful fit for me.  Unlike in Los Angeles, it's difficult to live here in complete anonymity.  People either know you...or they will soon...and if you're in need of some sort, somebody will do their best to give you a hand.  I've moved away before - and it's likely I will again - but as they always have, I'm certain that this community...these people that I love...will make sure I never lose my connection...they are my roots and my foundation...and they always will be.

Tech School Genius

My dad didn't go to college.  To hear him tell it, he was never really good at school anyway.  In fact, he often calls himself a lame brain and references a childhood fall from a tree onto his head as the reason.  But I know his secret.  I know he's really a genius.

Coming from a poor family, my dad had a lot of his decisions made by his circumstances rather than his own desires.  There was more of a need to survive, rather than dream.  I'm not sure he ever really allowed himself to imagine much further than the next day or the next week.  He's a realist - and at times a pessimist - but he's loyal, dedicated, and approaches life with a sense of duty.  That sense of duty led him to answer the call when drafted - to yet again do what he had to do rather than what he may have wanted to do - and spend two years in the Army, a stint which sent him around the world to Vietnam and, thankfully, back again.  By the time he returned, real life was already well on its way, and the days that were meant for dreaming were long gone.

My dad went on to tech school, became certified as an electrical mechanic, and spent well over thirty years working at the Anniston Army Depot, where he built and repaired various components in military equipment from tanks to missiles.  And while it may seem that he settled for less, I believe what he actually got was more.  He's never needed big, flashy things...he's only needed to work hard and provide for his family.  I think, in many ways, that was his greatest dream of all...and for him, it came true.  He doesn't have excess, but he has what he needs...and that's all he's ever wanted.

My dad tells me that I'm the one with the brains and the opportunity.  Maybe I do have the opportunity, but it's only because he and my mother have given it to me.  They've worked hard and sacrificed, so that I can follow my dreams, wild and flighty though they might be.  However, the true genius of the family is my dad.  I've known this for a long time, but I think I've only really come to appreciate it since I've returned home.

For the last three years, I've been out in California in universities and workplaces where I've been surrounded by highly educated men and women.  People who speak perfect English, wear business suits, and love to flash their prized possessions.  So far, none have compared to the intelligence of my father who, with his deep Southern drawl and camo work pants, can fix almost anything...or will at least give it an honest try.  In the three weeks since I've been home, he has repaired my bicycle, fixed the leg on a DVD stand, worked on the pipes leading to our toilet, and rewired the pump for our well (though he did call in a little help from a professional on that one).  And just last year, when his computer's motherboard died and he found he couldn't simply purchase another motherboard to replace it, he bought one that was not intended for that computer, rewired the plugs, installed it, and now the computer runs faster than it ever did before.  All I have to do is tell my dad something is not working, and he fiddles with it until he finds a way to fix it...and if he can't totally rectify the problem, he'll usually find a temporary fix until someone else can come in and make the necessary repairs.

Even beyond all that, my dad is a problem-solver, a self-taught engineer, and an inventor.  He has natural ingenuity and a type of perseverance and commitment that are rare in a society that wants what it wants instantly and doesn't have the patience to see things through.  But even more than they make him a Mr. Fix-It, I think these are the things that make my father a great dad.  He's involved, he's supportive (even when he doesn't always understand my flighty ambitions), and he's willing to get his hands dirty when necessary.  He goes above and beyond the call to be there when he's needed, and it's in that that he finds his self-worth.

I'm not downing the highly educated and the office dwellers.  Hey, I've been an educated office dweller myself...and hope to be again in the future.  But I think sometimes, we get so absorbed in the outward exhibitions of our intelligence that we forget to pay tribute to those who have quietly done what they had to in order to keep our wheels turning.  My dad isn't perfect, and he and I don't see eye to eye on a number of things...usually politics...but our differences only help to define our relationship, not to hamper it.  Living at home has been a challenge, but I'm thankful for this opportunity.  Once again, my dad has provided a haven to foster my imagination and my dreams.  And I'll be forever grateful for that.  

No, my dad isn't just a genius.  He's a tech school genius...and sometimes, that's the most valuable of all.

Tossing Out, Packing In, and Growing Up

On my facebook status earlier today I boasted that I might get in two blog posts today.  As it is now 11:19 PM CST and I am just now writing my first blog post, I don't think that's going to happen.  The good news is that I was quite productive with my other writing today, so perhaps I've justified myself.

As of a week ago this past Saturday, I officially moved back in with my parents.  While I don't regret it, and I am still convinced that it was the right move to make...the transition from living on my own for the past seven and a half years to living back in my parents' house hasn't been easy...for me or them.  I've come to realize boundaries are the issue.  Not exactly physical boundaries like, "This is my room!  Get out!"...but more emotional boundaries.

When I lived at home before, it was under the typical parent/child conditions.  Now, we're three adults living in the house together, but I've noticed that - in some ways - we've slipped right back into the same routine...especially my mother and me.  Even though I have declared that my laundry is my responsibility, my mother still comes through to pick up a few stray pieces here and there.  And today, I caught her making up my bed.  Ridiculous?  Yes, I completely agree with you!  But as the old saying goes, the more things change, the more they stay the same.  I have gone clear across the country and returned...but nothing really changes. I may be twenty-five years old, but put my mother and myself under the same roof, and she falls right back into mothering mode...and sometimes it's a little too easy to just let her do it.

I think in the coming months we're going to learn to redefine our relationship with one another.  We'll have to, or we'll never survive this.  I've got to work to maintain my independence, and she's got to learn to let me.  Even though, I've returned to my roots, I've got to continue growing upward and moving forward.  Life isn't easy.  Hard work has to be done and hard decisions have to be made, so it is a bit tempting to revert to a pseudo-childhood.  But that's not what I want for myself or my parents.  We all have quite a bit left to accomplish, and while we can move forward together, we can't allow ourselves to move back.

That noted, I would like to take the opportunity to really tip my hat to my parents.  Despite these few bumps, they've really stepped up to give me a place back in the house.  Over the last seven and a half years, my bedroom had become my dad's office and retreat, so there's been quite a bit of switching around and finding places for things...and throwing out other things.  My dad and I are both self-admited packrats, so we take any purging very seriously...but we've both really stepped up to the plate.  And my mom, who loves to throw things out, dug deep into the darkest recesses of the kitchen cabinets to toss out random tupperware and kitchen utensils that haven't seen the light of day in 15-20 years to give me room for my accumulated wares.

While I pray to God that this arrangement is not permanent - or even an extended version of temporary - I am thankful for the opportunity to spend some quality time with my parents, my extended family, and my dog (who has currently forgone her expensive bed for a pile of Ralph's reusable shopping bags that have yet to find a home)...not to mention, getting to spend some quality time with my writing.  I've got a few projects in the works, so maybe I'll be sharing a few snippets in the coming weeks!

Until then, good night!