The Pull of the South

My roots are in the South.

I can still see my Uncle Ken preaching.
I see my Aunt Wanda in her kitchen asking all the men, "Four eggs or five?"
I want to sit on that front porch where my in-laws lived.

I am a firmly-planted Midwestern girl. When I travel, I become a chameleon. I love Manhattan and I love Mexico and the Caribbean. If you gave me a ticket to Europe or the Mediterranean, I'd be packed in 10 minutes and on the next plane.

The South has my pulse. I'm drawn to it...favorite memories and lots of my favorite people still live there. I was in a bookstore recently and noticed I am magnetized by southern writers.

I'm pretty sure I will live out the rest of my life in Indiana. But, I am happily headed south in a few weeks to visit one of my dearest girlfriends. I would visit her anywhere...Gosh, I think I have.

The fact that she's pulling me south is a spectacular benefit.

Car Memories

Lately, I've been thinking about cars. We're no Michigan, but a lot of our industry in this state started with cars and spun off into various manufacturing. Now we're courting advanced manufacturing -- lots of definitions for that. My last few cars have all been run by a computer in its belly so if that's not advanced, I don't know what is.

Currently I drive a Toyota. Not one that's been recalled but I'll check again tomorrow. I've owned more than my fair share of cars. Sorry to all my union friends but my best cars have been Japan or German models. Change the oil regularly and they run forever.

My first one was second-hand (third? fourth maybe?) and it was a stick shift and great fun. Girlfriends and I used to tool around, listening to the 8-track and singing our lungs out. During which, I was also rolling backwards and restarting the engine because it's hard to carry on a conversation, sing, work all the pedals and primp at the same time. My dad taught me to drive it because the first and only time my mom tried she got a massive headache from screaming "Look Out!" We were in a parking lot.

Before passing driver's ed, which I took in high school, Gary MacPherson used to let me drive his Chevy Nova around the parking lot. I later learned that he did that with lots of girls.

My dad used to have this GTO that all my friends thought was very cool. He thought it was cool too and so the story goes, he got so many tickets that it had to go. That's my memory and I'm sticking to it.

I've never understood people who don't have memories of making out in a car. Were you all born with your own apartment? One of my first memorable kisses was in the back of my dad's truck. Greg Davis planted one on me while his sister (Angel) looked on. We were stuck back there like cattle and she retreated to her own corner.

Keith Taylor had a cool car. Even though I knew my bff had a crush on him, I said yes when he asked me out. (She forgave me.) His brother had a better car -- a Mustang Fastback and we made out in that too. Later my grandfather had a few belts, took a neighborhood kid's bicycle and rammed it into the car. Lesson: God is always watching.

In my memory, Jan always had a different car/truck every six months. They broke down and we didn't care. We didn't have cell phones. It was a friggin' adventure. We also had a few car episodes (oops, didn't see that garage door!)

My most-of-the-time boyfriend in high school (and all-through-college guy) used to take me out in his parent's Honda. Hmmm. Maybe that's why I still lean toward Japanese cars.

Yes, thanks to Facebook, I'm using names now.

Forever Friends

My oldest and dearest friends (my goldies) are still the ones I count on -- pretty much every day. I could not have gotten through the last year, and countless other periods of my life, without one or all of them.

We are all so different now. And we're honest enough to admit that if we met recently, at this ripe ol' age, we might not see the connection. Different jobs and different lifestyles ... different religions and different family situations ... different wants and needs ... different geography ... different politics and different beliefs. You get the point.

Sometimes a shared history IS the connection. And it is a sheer act of bravery to say to someone, "I will share this with you. You get to see the real me, warts and all." It's implied between children and parents. It's rightly expected with a spouse (although we all know how well I do that one!) With girlfriends, it is a choice. Not nature/nurture/genetics and not a social/legal/moral contract.

You get the good and the bad. You get to be one of the first to know that your girlfriend lost her virginity. You get to stand beside her at her wedding(s). You get to be in the delivery room or be a godmother. You get to watch her have a diabetic attack. You get to watch her yell at her husband and/or children. You get to watch each other get too thin, too fat, drink too much, battle smoking addictions and find your way back. You get to watch each other's parents get old and make odd choices.

Sunrise. Sunset.

And then, a girlfriend hands you a copy of a poem (because she will not give up the original) that you wrote to her when you were about 14 or so. One of my bffs handed this to me last week. It said:

I have this friend. You probably know her because she is recognized everywhere she goes. With one smile, she can make everyone's day a little brighter. If something's wrong, she's always there to help work things out. She knows just what to say whenever I need a little pep talk and she knows when to say nothing because I just need someone to listen. She is the type of person who comes along once in a lifetime. And I'm so grateful I found her now.

Ok, forgive the schmaltz. I was fourteen. But the message is I knew a gem and I knew I was lucky.

Looking Back; Looking Forward

There's nothing wrong with walking along memory lane. It adds perspective and let's face it -- it's fun. But lately, I am trapped on that street. Time may not heal things but it's supposed to add perspective. I'm not sure about that either. With me, it's much easier to get wrapped up in the good times, the easier times, the days that I thought all was right with the world.

This is why we have girlfriends.

And parents. And dogs.

Did I mention I had a date last night with the love of my life? The man I have shared most of my adult life with and the man who is capable of evoking every emotion and feeling with a glance or a touch...

Scary stuff for the faint of heart.

I recently plopped myself in my minister's office. I pretended to talk about committee stuff for a while until I gathered the courage to ask him (again!) for guidance about my marriage and impending divorce. Like all talented and well-schooled counselors, he was useless. I believe he said, "You're looking for me to tell you what to do and I can't do that." (He's not useless -- that was a joke!)

What he said, and it resonated, was this:
"You've already made your decision. You just need to act on it."

Yes, I do know it's time to look to the future. I may never love another man the way I loved this one.

But who knows? Maybe some really good stuff is out there once I choose to look forward.

Mothering

One of my favorite stories is when a girlfriend and her husband told their daughter the facts of life ... the details of how a baby comes into this world. Her response was an incredulous, "You did that for me?!"



This morning in church, the young children handed out carnations to the mothers in the congregation. I hesitated on whether or not to raise my hand.

I did not birth children. Whenever someone asks me if I have children, I always feel a bit like a fraud if I answer "yes." I do, but I share them. I did not go through the normal channels of:

First comes love,
Then comes marriage,
Then comes Sheri pushing a baby carriage.

My minor medical issues could've been overcome. But I also had enough brain cells clicking to ask myself, "Is this really the man you want your children to spend every other weekend with?"

Then I met and married the man I thought I would spend the rest of my life with. His two children became mine. Because I was given that gift. Because I grabbed it and craved it. Because I was taught by example that a mother's love comes from many who mother.

This afternoon I was still reflecting on mother's day, my goddaughters, the many women who have been a blessing to me. I was working myself into a pretty good funk about coulda, woulda, shoulda ...

My phone beeped and I read this text:

"Hi Mom. Happy Mother's Day. I'm at my cousin's graduation and I'll call you later."

Happy Mother's Day to me.

"Children love me. I'm the best mother they never had."
Anonymous

A Road Trip

This weekend I drove to Memphis to visit one of my golden friends. Remember this saying:

Make new friends but keep the old. One is silver and the other is gold.

We have been friends since kindergarten so that definitely qualifies.

She and her husband built a gorgeous new home a few years ago and I was privileged to check it out for myself. Descriptive words would not do it justice so I will not even try. The greatest compliment I can give her is that for all of its grandeur and opulence, it feels warm and inviting. It feels like a home.

The trip there (and of course, the trip home) allowed me 8 1/2 hours of alone time. Just me and my brain. It was a fine time for reflective thinking. I beat myself up a bit, made some decisions, walked down memory lane and made some plans. It was therapeutic and time well spent.

Plus it was a lot cheaper than paying a therapist for 17 hours.