Frequency of Love

 "CQ, CQ - Kilo, Echo, Zero, Golf, Papa"    

Okay dad, you are going to need a Kleenex for this one…                                     Nope, I've decided dad you might want to grab the whole Kleenex box;

 I'll wait….. 

"KE0GP" - This was the call signal my dad used for his amateur radio (ham radio) when I was growing up. I swear the entire neighborhood knew his call letters! "Back in the day" his ham radio equipment was in my brother's childhood bedroom (my brother's bedroom moved downstairs until he graduated high school). The wires were strung up a tower in the backyard and onto the roof of our house. Now I'm sure Carl, my dad, would love to tell you all about the strength and watts for everything and what direction everything could go, but as a teenager all I cared about was being able to hear my phone, TV or radio. You see, his hobby hampered with my teenage social life and to this day I can still hear "Kilo, Echo, Zero, Golf, Papa." All of this was because the technology was "lacking a bit" in the late 80's, early 90s. Interference from the ham radio signal would travel into the TV, radio, or phone and anyone watching said TV, etc, could hear my dad loud and clear: "Kilo, Echo, Zero, Golf, Papa." This interference wasn’t only just into our house, sometimes it would overflow into our neighbors as well. I don’t think the kids of 2020 would stand for this interference with their electronics; heck I doubt I would!

"CQ, CQ - Kilo, Echo, Zero, Golf, Papa - KE0GP, Come In"….

Watching my dad with his headphones on, talking to someone across the world always fascinated me. When he talked to someone in another country it was special because it was hard to reach that far with the equipment he was using. The conversations would be short and sweet due to the fact the signal would fade in and out and would generally disappear within 5 minutes or so. Remember, this was before the internet (yes prehistoric years, I know - gasp!). At times, I would sit on the floor and watch him do Morse Code (which is still a foreign language to me). He would press on the steel hammer-like bar to make the "dits and the dots" somehow putting together words for a conversation. Ham radio does not use the internet or access to a phone; it's done via radio frequency bands which the FCC has allocated to be used by amateur radio operators. In years past, reaching the other side of the world, using a wire on top of our house (which was a bit susceptible to lighting strikes) all seemed a bit alien-like to me. There was even a certain glow from the vacuum tubes of the receiver. Yet there's something about the ham radio community; they are genuinely nice people. They will have a short and sweet conversation and wish you well and off to the next person they go, looking to see who they can talk to next. They are made up of both young and older people wanting to talk to someone across town, across the state, across the world or even into outer space (yes, you can talk to astronauts on the ISS in space).    

"CQ, CQ - Kilo, Echo, Zero, Golf, Papa - KE0GP, Come In"….

I recall going to the mailbox and bringing the mail into the house as a teenager. I would see my dad receiving all kinds of postcards from places all over the world from people he talked to on the ham radio. The postcards were not terribly fancy and only a few were funny to me (normally the humor of an engineer is not intriguing to a teenager). The postcards were signed with just call letters, stamped with the time and date of when they chatted and simple message. My dad was always proud of the postcards he received - almost as if it was his award - for talking near and far away. He'd show them off and identified it on his map; marking every city, states and even countries he was able to reach. He would then store the postcards in a shoebox. Then in another week or so my dad would get more postcards and we would look on the map together and repeat this process. Some of the postcards would be even be displayed on the wall. I recall thinking I wanted the postcards to be fancier or prettier or something more my style - but they weren't about me, they were about his group; about his friends and his memories. Yet those postcards impacted me .. leaving memories in my mind as well.     

"CQ, CQ - Kilo, Echo, Zero, Golf, Papa - KE0GP, Come In"….

Postcards are kind of like ham radio operators; they are becoming more and more rare as time goes by. The rise of the internet in the 1990s has affected the 106 year old amateur radio industry. In an ever changing world, instead of competing with the internet the Amateur Radio Organization has created educational courses that can be taken online to get a license. Yes, you do have to have a license approved by the FCC. There's also training for emergencies, for contests, and now high school clubs to promote interest within the "younger crowd." Electronic engineering has benefited tremendously from the activity of ham radio and in times of disaster ham radio operators are very valuable to a community. They were used during emergencies like 9/11 and hurricanes such as Katrina. Operators are involved in climate change groups as well as events like city marathons. In today's society their postcards might be sent electronically but some are still sent the old fashion way.    

"CQ, CQ - Kilo, Echo, Zero, Golf, Papa - KE0GP, Come In"….

With the speed of technology getting a hand written note is becoming a thing of the past. Walking to my mailbox as an adult is a case of wondering if it's really worth the effort. Power bill. Water Bill. Car payment. Insurance. Doctor Bills. More Doctor bills. Why do I even have a mail box?! Can I please make my mailbox disappear? With Covid-19 getting the mail can seem even more redundant. There's something special about opening up the mailbox and finding a postcard from the other side of the world, another state, or right down the road. 

Think about it; pen pals (I had one in 4th grade) were the first global social network. I've always enjoyed opening my mailbox and receiving handwritten notes from friends or family. This may all seem old fashioned - maybe it is. Maybe that's the secret to deepening our connections with the people we care about. At least 97% of Americans text once a week; several text once a day; quite a few text once a minute. With the flick of a finger and a the press of a button (half the time I have to check twice to make sure I sent the text to the right person) even then I still find I have misplaced texts and misspelled words, short hand messages and half texted words. Memes, Emojis and Bitmojis are all fun, yet they can all disappear.  

"CQ, CQ - Kilo, Echo, Zero, Golf, Papa - KE0GP, Come In"….

Postcards are a physical object that adds another dimension that emails cannot; the power of an object is stronger and we remember it longer than an email or text. Picking out postcards involves a few more steps than sending a text: first you have to pick out a card - will it be funny & whimsical, a pretty landscape, somebody in a swimsuit, a "wish you were here," a vintage postcard, so many to pick from; then one must hand write a message and know the address, then get a stamp and mail the postcard. These small gestures can make a huge impact for the person on the receiving end. A quick hello from far away or near makes the reader want to immediately turn it over and see who it is from. Your handwriting is on the postcard. Okay so maybe your handwriting looks like a messy squirrel's nest, but trust me your loved ones will be thankful for it. On the upside, you can only fit a few words on them.

What does one say on a postcard? Anything that will fit! Well, keep in mind anyone with access to the card can still read it but you can give a quick update. Ideas include lines of a poem, mantra, recipes, an art design, description of the weather, or just say "I'm thinking of you" or "Wish you were here" or "I made it safely", "Saw this flower and thought of you" or "Did you see the Dodgers game yesterday?" The point is the very core of connectivity - I am thinking of you. In an era of broadcasting every feeling on social media there is something more personal about a handwritten note.

"CQ, CQ - Kilo, Echo, Zero, Golf, Papa - KE0GP, Come In"….

Postcards last a lifetime and they are special - a kind hearted gesture because they are personally picked out by you. Postcards are easy to fit into a suitcase and they are easy to find - most souvenir shops, truck stops, hotel lobbies, newspaper stands, antique shops, vintage stores, etc will carry them. Postcards look great on the wall, as a bookmark or as fridge art. Postcards can inspire others to want to travel or to feel included in your travels. They can make people feel important and loved. Postcards may be small and flimsy but don’t under estimate their power.

"CQ, CQ - Kilo, Echo, Zero, Golf, Papa - KE0GP, Come In"….

Postcards provide a glimpse in time and can keep track of travels. Before the times of social media, people used postcards to relish the highlights of their trip. As a child I would buy postcards and send them to friends and even to myself. We often camped in South and North Dakota or in Colorado. Occasionally we would make the car trip to California. During those travels, I always enjoyed picking out some funny postcard or even a book of postcards. I would sit backwards with head resting on my mom's headrest of her seat and my feet up my seat (no seatbelt - gasp again!) and I would journal and write postcards home. Yes, I wrote a lot back then too. I guess, once a writer, always a writer. I am a sucker for the pretty postcards or ones with an animal or a map describing the area. I would pick one out, write how much I loved this place, maybe writing a simple date and time and send it home to myself. I'd often forget about it. Two weeks later the postcard would be waiting in my mailbox when I got home from vacation. Sometimes the postcard provided the best picture of the sunset at the ocean or the lion yawning at the zoo. It always helped that postcards have the best artwork and beautiful design. At least I knew I had one good picture giving justice to whatever place I was at, especially in an era when I couldn’t see the picture on my phone before being developed. Our travel habits and style have really changed. We now look to our smartphones and cameras to take photographs as travel souvenirs.

"CQ, CQ - Kilo, Echo, Zero, Golf, Papa - KE0GP, Come In"….

Almost anything can be made into a postcard nowadays. It’s a huge body of work. Postcard collecting is called Deltiology; which might not interest you unless you are going to be on Jeopardy (in which case you need to say hi to Alex Trebek for me). Postcard collecting is the 3rd largest collectible hobby worldwide - only to coins and stamps. Wherever you are, whatever you like, there’s a postcard for it. There are vintage postcards; state postcards with big "Wish You Were Here" letters; picture perfect scenery postcards… Keep spinning that card carousel until you find the perfect one ..There are see-through postcards; Some are made out of cork, particularly from Spain where cork trees are grown. There are novelty postcards made out of copper, wood, aluminum, linen or silk. You can find googly little eyes moving on some postcards. In Salt Lake City you might find a postcard with a bag of sand attached to the postcard. I've seen hallmark cards cut in half and reused to make into postcards; or Starbucks cup holders with a stamp and note on it to made into a postcard. I've even seen a maple leaf pressed to show off its autumn colors and taped onto colored paper to make it more sturdy. The backside had the address and postage and a message. Online there are a variety of apps and sites one can pick from to help create personal postcards as well. 

The largest recorded postcard in the Guinness World Records was in Hong Kong on Dec 17th, 2014. The postcard was double sided on single sheet and had images of shoes for a promotion at Christmas time with a message of "May All Wishes Come True." It weighed 48.7 kg (~107.37 lbs) and was 57.188 sq meters (615.57 sq ft). I don’t think that one would fit in a mailbox (nor would I want to pay the postage on it)!

"CQ, CQ - Kilo, Echo, Zero, Golf, Papa - KE0GP, Come In"….

The "Postcards" I am creating for each state are more of a journal artwork of the state to tell a story of the state on one piece of paper. It's what I would love to find on a postcard for that state - but probably isn't available anywhere. I call it a postcard because it will be going in with my collection of postcards coming from each state. It's also a postcard to me because postcards are valuable to me; traveling down my "rabbit hole" of postcard collecting. 

When I create a postcard it releases stress and takes my mind off of everything; I zone out. I'm creating my own memories. Doing this blog I realized I started collecting postcards when I was little during our family travels. I also witnessed my dad collecting postcards; taking pride in talking to people across the United States and reaching out across the world to anyone he could. I've continued collecting postcards throughout my travels as an adult. I could never identify my fascination with them - until now. I'm now sending away for postcards about different states. I'm also asking for friends and family to send me postcards from anyplace or anywhere they find interesting. I hope this blog explains why it's important to me.

"CQ, CQ - Kilo, Echo, Zero, Golf, Papa - KE0GP,        Come In Dad "…

My dad recently found his old postcards in a shoebox in his garage. It struck a memory of past times of him talking on his ham radio. With retirement looming he's been inspired to dig out the box with his radio equipment. He now has a newer, fancier and updated antenna and with less "umph" he is actually able to talk further than he could in past years. Technology sure has improved over the years!

My dad recently changed his call signal to his mom's old call letters. His new call is K6ENK. His mom's nickname was "Extremely Noisy Kid" when she was doing ham radio (she has since passed away). This nickname is very appropriate for my dad and his bygone days of rattling the entire neighborhood to talk across the world. Now he doesn’t use the microphone as often as he used to; he mostly does Morse Code. I'm sure by using his mom's call letters my dad can sit and remember his time as a child with his mom (and dad) when they did ham radio back in 1960's. It's a way to feel connected once again to the ones we love and miss….   Yep, finding those postcards does give body to new and old memories.  

"CQ, CQ  - Kilo, Six, Echo, Nancy, Kilo   - K6ENK       Come In Dad " …

YY

I

Y-YY --- YYY- Y

love

-Y-- --- YY-

you

-.. .- -.. / .. / .-.. --- ...- . / -.-- --- ..- / .- -. -.. / -- .. ... ... / -.-- --- ..- / -.. . .- .-. .-.. -.-- .-.-.- / -.-- --- ..- / .- .-. . / .- -. / .- -- .- --.. .. -. --. / ..-. .- - .... . .-. / -....- / .- .-.. .-- .- -.-- ... / .... .- ...- . / -... . . -. --..-- / .- .-.. .-- .- -.-- ... / .-- .. .-.. .-.. / -... . -.-.-- / ... . -. -.. .. -. --. / .- .. .-. / .... ..- --. ... .-.-.- / - .. -. .-

See dad, if you didn’t have the entire Kleenex box don’t say I didn’t warn you. J

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Please note: I've also posted "My Alabama Postcard Artwork" in a separate blog this week to show my artwork to the postcard I created. 

If anyone is interested in sending me a postcard please let me know and I'll give you my address. 

Thanks!

Stay Safe and Healthy! Much love!

Christina 💜

 

My Alabama "Postcard" Artwork

My Drawing of an Alabama "Postcard"

Below are just close up shots of the drawing and the process in which I went through to get to the final picture. 

The Edmund Pettus across the Alabama River Selma, AL

Little boat in the Alabama River 

I wanted to make sure everyone could read the information about Helen Keller

            I had to add a train cart since the rail road was a big production in Alabama

Music is definitely important  

Yes, that does actually say "Hello Sequoyah" in the Cherokee language.

 

Below is my Helen Keller drawing. She is the part of my postcard that I had the hardest time getting to a point that I liked her face. At first I had her looking straight at me, I really wasn't happy with my outcome. Then I took a nap and changed the reference picture that I was using. I found this other reference picture and turning her sideways made it a lot easier to draw. I also found using a picture that is not as famous as some others so people don't already have a preconceived idea in their minds of what it's supposed to look like is a good idea. 

The actual picture was taken when she graduated from college:

Not bad for being someone who was deaf, blind and dumb (as others would say)! I'm incredibly impressed by all that she accomplished in life! 

This is the first picture on my blank piece of paper

 So that is my step by step ... well minus a few steps that seemed repetitive ... hopefully this gives you an idea of the thought process I went through to make my own personal postcard for this state. 

Thanks for checking it out! 

Please enjoy the blog that goes with this drawing. 

Christina 💜

Fires September 2020

It Could've Been Me … My Family

Many of you already know this but .. when I write, I write from the heart. Recently doing my project in Alabama and the states I have been able to find my passion for writing again. It's been my escape from reality so to speak. I've been able to add a piece of myself and yet add a bit of knowledge about the state and also draw. It's been quite refreshing. …… and now, for two weeks I haven't been able to even open my computer to write. It's been too painful. Every time I try; I cry. So I wait…and I wait. I wait until the pain gets less and less and I can find comfort once again in words. I write a paragraph and I close my computer; that was enough for today. Tomorrow's another day; I will write more then. Alabama will wait..

Little by little I'm making progress. I'm almost ready to post this new blog. I find peace in writing. It calms my nerves. Everyone will have to bear with me in this post; my grammar or punctuation may not be its best. I get tears in my eyes every time I re-read it. I wish I could do more for others.. I have a bit of guilt I believe in some aspects… but right now I'm trying to hold myself together. I suppose for now that will have to do; and that's okay. J  

 

"Empathy has no script. There is no right way or wrong way to do it. It's simply listening, holding space, withholding judgment, emotionally connecting, and communicating that incredibly healing message of "you're not alone."             ~Brene Brown

 

The Fires

Some of you may have noticed I took last week off (or two..or three now) from blogging. Unfortunately on Tuesday, September 8th and 9th, Oregon had what many have referred to as a "perfect storm" for fires. Hot, dry and extremely windy weather created nightmares for two days straight! For those of us who experienced this storm it’s hard and extremely painful to describe. The first two days and nights were pure survival! Then came the shock of it all. Then the trauma and the pain, sorrow and helplessness. Oregon "lost" four towns that week (maybe more?), two of which are within 10 miles of my house. Between Phoenix and Talent at least 2,488 residential homes and 164 businesses were completely destroyed! Other properties have been damaged as well. Now over 6,000 people are homeless - all from the Almeda fire alone. This is something I am used to hearing about on the news.. in other cities; not in my own community.  The fires were so close that night; they surrounded the valley in a fury. We had a false sense of security but in reality no one was safe. It all moved so fast.

It could've been me.. my family.

The winds were howling all morning. It was Tony's first day of high school; his freshman year online due to Covid. The schools were having issues with intermittent power outages and losing connection to the internet due to the high winds. Some families gave up on trying to stay connected with the school. The winds seemed to pick up speed and anger as the day progressed.

The fires started in Ashland around 11:00 am that morning and things appeared to be somewhat under control. Occasionally I'd receive little new flash updates on my phone. Around 2 or 3:00 in the afternoon I received a blurp saying the neighborhood by my sister-in-law's house in Medford was on high alert to be evacuated. I called to check to make sure Amy was aware and was heading home. Within the hour she was evacuating her family and pets to my in-laws house. 

My son, David, and his girlfriend, Leslie, were next on the list to be evacuated. They live in an area with only one way in and one way out; and to top it off they do not have a car. I texted David and told him the fire was close to his apartments and to look out his back window. Sure enough, the 30 ft flames were waving up and down in the wind, as if to say hello. It was so close he could almost feel them. Then came the stressful process of rounding up his two cats and shoving them into carriers while holding their small dog, Kiki so she wouldn’t wiggle away. All while trying to get everyone in her mom's car and down the road in a hurry. Hearing their voices in a panic over the phone, feeling helpless myself, trying to calm them down, telling them to breathe, yet to get out of there as fast as he could; all with me knowing from the scanner that his roads are blocked. This is every mother's worst nightmare. We repeated this again and again over the next day. Finally they just stayed away until they knew for sure it was all clear. It's a lot of trauma for everyone (including pets) to go through.

We were not alone in this situation. When Jeff and I turned on the police scanner we realized just how hellishly bad the situation really was. It wasn't until around 11pm that night when we discovered the destruction in Talent and Phoenix. Sadly, none of our local news channels were reporting on the situation. Panic had stricken the entire valley. …

It could've been me.. my family.

In the Midwest I have been through tornadoes. Normally you have warning when and where they are headed. There is a pretty clear path of destruction afterwards. Once I moved to the West Coast I learned of fire storms and the destruction they can leave behind. This past week I feel as though lived through the two combined together.

The Almeda fires released a whispering hiss, sizzling pop and a bellowing crackle within the dry withered trees as they gradually released years of liveliness soaked up from the sun. A solid intoxicating smell of musty smoke and pine needles mixed with an eerie glow of uncertainly was swimming in the air. The persistent, raw, hellish, smell was strong enough to wrap around your throat and strangle you. The noises that evening were unremitting and scary. There was a steady banging on the side of our house from the never ending wind and we don’t even have tall trees next to our house. Rustling leaves made crackling whip noises so loud it frightened all of our pets - and me too! As we checked on our friends and family throughout the evening there was a known panic in the background. In the dark lingered a huge curtain of flames crawling through nearby neighborhoods grabbing at every little thing it could; watching what we couldn’t. Branches and twigs would gasp for their last breath before falling into ashes. The fire slithered all around the valley that night - like a bunch of rattle snakes had been let lose creeping up and down every house; waiting for someone to scream… wondering where it would turn up next.    Breathe...

Fierce winds broke electric poles like it was a game. The fires raged on throughout multiple neighborhoods and businesses, sparing little in its path. Nothing inside was likely to survive. Firefighters went door by door that night evacuating one neighbor after another; often with nothing but what they had on their backs. Many people didn’t want to leave; even though they could see - yet not believe - their coming doom. Many were forced to leave their outdoor pets that had run away; fortunately many pets have since been reunited. Everything just happened so fast! The small one acre fire blasted out of control so fast that it played hopscotch with whatever neighborhoods were in its path, regardless of if it was your turn or not. Listening to the scanner we could hear the panic in the first responders. They were running out of resources. When they arrived at one spot they would have no water pressure so they would go to another location. Needless to say, we didn’t get any sleep that night. 

It could've been me.. my family.

Something people must realize is we had little warning. Yes, there were hints of fire and gossip in the air. This and that and what to keep an eye out with fire weather - but in reality very few people expected what really happened. We've never experienced anything like this before! The Rogue Valley is "in the belly" of everything around us. At one point our freeways were closed, our highways were closed, and the routes to the coast were even closed! Firemen did all they could to help. Unfortunately the fire was out of control so at that point it was up to them just to get everyone out safely. Our state was (and still is) extremely dry AND regardless of how or why our fires started that night it was some of the scariest times as a parent I've ever experienced! I am incredibly thankful so many people and animals have survived!

It could've been me.. my family.

Fortunately, no one in my immediate family lost their property. Unfortunately, several of my friends were not as lucky. My husband is a property manager and his business did lose properties in the fire. We have friendships with both the owner and tenants of those properties. My heart just breaks for a dear friend of ours who not only lost her workplace, but her parents house is gone, and her two sisters lost each of their homes. Her family members live further north in Oregon but this is how strong the fires ripped through the entire state that night. Other friends of ours were also evacuated near Portland. South of us California has been battling extreme fires as well. And then the news comes on and I see a drive by of hwy 99 and cry…. It's so painful to see a community, in which I've lived since 1999 (longer than I lived in Iowa, by the way) go through such heartache. How will this be put back together. So many lives without a home. So much destruction. I think of the children - it was their first day of school; virtual school at that. What a year! I think of the elderly, the poor; the Mexican (Spanish speaking) families displaced. As a result countless people are homeless, in shock, hopeless, confused, and have no idea where to even start to heal.  

It could've been me.. my family.

~~~~

Homelessness

When I was a senior in high school I had to do a senior project. My project was on homelessness. My mom and I went to a conference in Omaha. At 17 years old, I was the youngest one in the crowd. The speakers all spoke of statistics and how people can make a difference in the community. Then someone took a different approach. He said seven out of ten Americans are one paycheck away from being homeless. The guy asked the crowd how many people would be homeless tomorrow if they lost their family income. A few people stood up. Then he proceeded to ask how many people would be homeless without income for two months; four months or six months. Each time more and more people stood up. My mom stood up around four months. Eventually almost everyone in the room had stood up. The point was that everyone is susceptible to homelessness. This project was a huge eye opener for both me and my mom. In fact, it changed how she did her banking and savings the rest of her life. It also changed both of our prospective about homelessness. Do not judge …   

It could've been me.. my family.

The reality is anyone of us could become homeless for a multiple of reasons at any given minute. Yes, there are people who are the "druggies" or the ones who "just don’t want to work"  among the homeless crowd. They will always exist. But this fire changed our homeless rate tremendously in the Rogue Valley!

A majority of the residential homes burnt were mobile homes. Why/how does a natural disaster always find the mobile home parks?! We lost 4 or 5 parks; at least! The population of the mobile homes were elderly, poorer white families and Hispanic families. I'm guessing by what I've read on social media probably half were not insured of the mobile homes. FEMA is here but not helping much at this point from what I've gathered. We have a ton of "tent cities" growing. These are not just for the bums. These are families with children, young and old, people who have lost everything trying to find hope. The tent cities are going in at the green-ways and at school football fields. Showers are being used at schools (students are all on virtual learning right now), the YMCA, churches, and the fairgrounds (among other places). Donations, donations and donations … we are seeing donations coming from everyone and everywhere. People really want to help. But homelessness still remains .. and will for a long time to come. …

Ghosts of smoke and ash still linger in the valley well over a week after the fires. The pungent smell of smoke even taste bitter and is painful to breathe. My car is covered in ash; it desperately needs a bath. Slowly they are allowing residents back into Phoenix and parts of Talent to see what is left. If you lived right on Highway 99 I say prayers for you. Not much appears to be left from the pictures and media posts I have seen. Right now I am still confused about what sections of town have survived and what is destroyed. Embers still rumbling in the town of Talent show the wrath of the fires; as if glowing eyes are watching. Non-residents are still not allowed in the area as it is considered an active fire scene.    

It could've been me.. my family.

~~~~

Empathy

The Friday (the 11th) immediately after the fires my brother found a purpose volunteering. He was able to connect with some people he didn’t even know through a friend he had from the army. He's still relatively new to this community and with Covid he's has had a challenging time making friends of his own. This tragedy has brought many in the community together to get out and help one another. He's found a group who is actively helping others, feeding, and providing supplies to those in need. The group of friends are there for each other emotionally through this misfortune. I am very happy for my brother; he's found friends who are helpful to others and have been also been a positive influence on his mindset. Sometimes challenging times brings out compassion where you never expect it. In fact, it's been amazing to see the outpouring of support and resources our community has brought together. 

What's been hard for me though.. is it's during Covid. I'm not ready for the face to face contact with strangers. I feel guilty. Here's my brother out volunteering and I'm so proud of him for meeting people and helping so many people who have lost everything - everything! And yet, I can't do it. Also I can't "carry" the burden. I feel incredibly selfish. My empathy level can only hold so much. I call my family and friends and I check up on them and talk with them. I want to be strong for them and myself. I donate what I can, and will continue to do so in the future. I think those who have created websites and gotten big corporations to donate and can organize all the supplies coming through. Those people (you know who you are!) are pure bad-ass type of people - you rock!

I have a personality that's pretty kept to myself. I'm okay with this. I'm in my own bubble with my family and friends; I'm okay with this. Covid has pushed me a little further in the turtle shell but I have my outreaches. I also have my reasons. When you spend 3 weeks in the hospital wondering if you are going to live or die with a brain injury, you have a lot of time to think about your family. Staying at home seems easy for me. I send out my happy messages or "how ya doing?" to my friends, but I still feel guilty for not doing more. There's still so much ruin and homelessness in the valley….

and it could've been me; my family.

Let's Go For a Drive

 September 22; two weeks after the fires - Highway 99 was finally opened yesterday from Phoenix to Talent to Ashland. Jeff and I went to breakfast for his birthday and we decided to go for a drive. The baby blue skies finally broke through on this cooler day. Jeff handed me his phone so I could record as he drove. As we got closer to Phoenix my nerves started to intensify. I've seen pictures from other people but this will be real. Breathe. exhale….

First I noticed burned businesses on the left-hand side of the road. Then the right. Then both. Then amazingly a restaurant, Deb's Diner and the RV shop next to it survived. I have no idea how! Seriously it does not make any sense; just like a tornado. The fires destroyed everything all around it; on both sides of the road - EVERYTHING! That included the Harley Davidson and all the mobile home parks in the area. Further down going towards Ray's there are sections of shopping centers that are destroyed. Just gone. Jack in the Box is standing with a melted sign out front. Everything behind and in front of it is gone. Garrisons Furniture - Gone. Going Downtown… Pucks Donuts is gone. L Superior Carpet - Gone. La Tapatia - Gone. Man this is just the left side of downtown and I can't even keep up with everything that is gone. The fire jumped from building to building as it ripped the left side of the road apart; and yet if you were the right side of hwy 99 (downtown going towards Ashland) the fire might have only teased you not leaving a mark. My heartbeat is in my throat and I can barely swallow. Tears are rolling down my face - completely heartbreaking.

Driving towards Talent the trees stood like blacken hockey sticks .. eerily spaced apart; like something is really wrong with this picture. Imagine the scary forest in the movie "Wizard of Oz" - and at some point I think the flying monkeys and the evil witch are going to show up. Again, some structures remain untouched. Others completely destroyed. Power and Gas trucks are everywhere spaced out along the highway still trying to rebuild the damaged power lines. Jeff and I decide to go and view the location where his properties once stood in Talent. Turning down the road towards the neighborhood is painful. The houses saved have been scared by pink "paint" highlights from plane retardant drops. The houses not as fortunate are pure ash and rubble; nothing is left. There are scorched metal stairways frames to nowhere. Someone is at the last unit with a Good Samaritan Purse truck trying to sift through the remaining dust trying to find any remaining items that can be saved. We stop and just soak it in. No words. ..     

It could've been me.. my family.

Driving back towards Medford on Hwy 99 I was shocked to see how many mobile home units were once hidden by the blackened trees in Phoenix. A sense of reality hits me for these families. I hope FEMA can help. I hope whatever systems that are supposed to be in place really work. There is an article out today stating the schools in Talent and Phoenix are starting this week again online. Over 50% of their students were affected by the fires and are now homeless. I just can't even begin to imagine…..

Thankful everyday

I am thankful everyday for all that we have. Jeff works so hard to provide for the family. Covid has been hard on everyone; not being able to see my friends and family! I miss them dearly. I am grateful though for so much! It's been stressful; the last few weeks - but I'm starting to feel better now. The air is finally clearing up and we can breathe a little deeper. There was even some rain! YAY! I even stood out and felt the rain in my fingers - "rain, rain, sweet rain!"

The future of Phoenix and Talent will be a long road of recovery. There are many painful stories still to be told. Several people are just now starting the next phase of healing. Some are already in the talks of rebuilding with their insurance. Others are battling it out with FEMA and other resource companies for help. Others are not even to that step yet. Pray to whomever you believe in that this recovery will happen soon. We have a lot of good people trying to help.

I'm incredibly thankful and blessed - it wasn’t me and my family …

Hugs to all!

9/30 

Quick follow up statement: I have received a lot of follow up comments regarding this blog.

Apparently there are many out there who can relate to my feelings. I am happy I was able to put those feelings into words and express them freely as they came pouring out. I do go through a process of scribbling my thoughts in a journal prior to putting them onto the computer. As I've mentioned, it took me 3 weeks to honestly get through my anger, and emotions of pain, guilt and love before they all made sense. I just want to thank everyone for reaching out to me and letting me know in comments, texts, emails and phone calls how you've been touched by this blog. You all me a lot to me and I'm here if anyone needs to chat. 

Dear Suitcase ... Where Did You Go?

Dear faithful suitcase where are you? I've packed you to the rim with all my nice clothes. An outfit for every day, extra clothes, plenty of underwear, a couple of sweaters, a nice dress to impress, extra shoes to match, nice accessories to go with each outfit, a swimsuit, and of course extra clothes because I can never make up my mind what I want to wear! What if it's cold, I'd better have clothes for that too! I'm known for packing extra clothes for whatever may come up, I even threw in an extra outfit for everyone else (some say I might’ve come over prepared - ha-ha!). This explains why you - my faithful suitcase - were put in the belly of the airplane and not as my sidekick carry-on. But suitcase where are you?

I left my name and number with airport security after waiting near the carousel. I watched all the other suitcases go round and round wondering if you would show… but nothing look like you. I saw a plethora of suitcases: some with pretty flowers some with stripes; leopard and tiger printed suitcases; scary skull prints or whirly eye prints, playful kids suitcases with R2D2 and Cinderella; the standard business formal blue and black suitcases; big and small suitcases, and anything in between suitcases … just not MY suitcase. The man at security booth said he would call me and if you happen to show up, but suitcase where could you be? 

Maybe you went on an adventure of your own. Maybe somebody took you on a taxi ride in New York or a trolley ride in San Francisco. You could be lost in the mountains of Denver or on your way overseas for a wild ride in a tuk tuk (oh how I wish I had invested in a better lock!) - Please hang on suitcase! Someone might spill a margarita on you Vegas, or put you on a dog sled in Alaska ... But really I need you more. I know the life on the road sounds more exciting than my vacation, but the items inside of you (my pretty suitcase) are valuable to me. Please come back.…

I read that 2.5 billion dollars a year are spent tracking and returning luggage or replacing items by the air transport industry! Allegedly most airports store lost luggage for two to three months. Overseas stray luggage then goes to auction. In the United States lost luggage goes to a thrift store paradise called Unclaimed Baggage, which can be found in Scottsboro, Alabama (see this story is going somewhere). Unlike most thrift stores, this one is made entirely of items people actually wanted to take on vacation - including electronics, clothing, designer items, brand new items, jewelry, even wheelchairs, and strollers, and yes their suitcases too. Unclaimed Baggage has been in business for over 50 years and is on its third generation of owners. It is the only store of its kind in America and in a town of 15,000 people it brings in nearly 1 million visitors a year. Unclaimed Baggage has 50,000 square feet of retail space and processes over 7,000 items each day (prior to Covid-19) to be reclaimed by new owners. They turn lost items into treasures by sorting, cleaning, prepping and pricing with a complex pricing center. There is also a website for the unusual and unique items to be sold online as well as in store. Oh, for any skier out there: they keep all the winter ski supplies and apparel until the first Saturday in November and have a “Ski Sale" on this day. Apparently people camp out hoping to be first in line and get the best deals.

The owners of Unclaimed Baggage are proactive about helping others in need. For every item sold, they also donate additional items to someone who is in need. Their object is to help local charities and other organizations with the leftovers items - and boy are there leftover clothes and misc items! Hundreds of thousands of eyeglasses are given to the Lions Club International Services. Wheelchairs and broken wheelchairs are delivered to prisons to be repaired and distributed to disabled children and adults in need by “Wheels for the World." Medical supplies are distributed to Samaritan’s Purse are donated as well. The family who created Unclaimed Baggage is aware there is a need they can help fill with the supplies they come across and they do not want them to go to waste.

As fun as all this sounds, I really don't want MY faithful suitcase to end up at Unclaimed Baggage. Maybe my suitcase is globe trotting around the world on some fancy adventure but hopefully it will find its way back to me soon. So the next time you look at "that suitcase" going round and round on the carousel- go ahead and laugh at the fact that it's been painted with some fancy looking flower or has a pink ribbon attached to its handle with a little bit of duck tape, just remember…  it's ON the carousel!

But where oh where, suitcase could you be?

 

 

 

Socks, Socks and More Socks!

In the early 1800s, Fort Payne was built around the coal and iron rush - that was until everything went bust and people went elsewhere. The ones that did stay, had to find another way to make money. One might ask, how does a small town in Northeast Alabama bounce back? On its own two feet of course ... Literally! When living in the cold mountains, momma must put socks on those little toes running around the house and with a state full of cotton people got creative. So in the late 1800s, with just one machine in the basement or personal garage people started to sew. With every click click click back and forth of the sewing machine socks rebuilt the town of Fort Payne. For some reason I can hear Jeff reciting lines from The Three Amigos right about now (when they asked the people of the town what they were famous for and they said "we can sew"). From people's houses to manufacturers and mills, Fort Payne soon became known as “The Sock Capital of the World.” The town is credited for creating the athletic sock as well as decorative socks.

At one point, this teeny town nestled in mountain country was responsible for making one in every eight pairs of socks around the world. Up until 2000 virtually 75% of all socks in the US were made in the US! That’s when outsourcing to China really affected the town of Fort Payne. Two decades of sock production overseas has really affected this once booming high-quality, hosiery industry. Now the manufactures are only family mills, mostly because of wages. Workers In Alabama make $8 to $12.00 an hour, but in China they make $0.40 an hour (with no health benefits or business restrictions). There's no way Alabama can compete! Now it is up to the consumer to determine the sock industry. 

While doing research for this blog, I've come to realize losing socks in the wash is a "serious" issue. Over the years my passion for folding socks has faded and quite frankly, I have no time for things that cause me undue stress - thus socks tend to lie in a pile "waiting" for their mate. Short socks or tall socks, faded or new socks, socks with holes in them (heck I don’t even waste my time with them, they find the trashcan ASAP), colorful socks, white and black socks, printed socks or fluffy socks - I can lose them all! I have no idea how they "walk" away without their mates. Maybe there's a secret escape route. Maybe they are in fear of the "stinky feet" or maybe the cat is hiding them one-at-a-time under my bed. How about the sneaky sock that finds it way under the dryer and just when I think I've found a match it ends up being a fabric softener-scented bliss instead. Of course, there's always the white sock that found the red towel - and now it's officially the "pink" sock! And yes, there's only one - not a matching pair. There's the white sock that went hiking and found a puddle of mud, or the pair that went camping and sat in a dirty clothes bag for two days and whew .. oh heck no!.. I'm not even trying to wash that pair! Why do socks have to be so complicated?

Socks can have memories too: I have a bag full of baby socks (I know, I know, my kids are no longer babies) and I have Christmas socks and cat socks, and even fluffy dog socks. Some people sew socks as gifts and some people mend socks (my mending abilities tend to leave lumps and bumps in the toes - it’s a better idea to send them to the land of lost socks). Some people make sock monkeys or sock monsters. I have good memories of getting socks on Christmas morning as a child. I give them now as gifts every year to my boys; at least I know they will have matching pairs at least once a year.

Socks can go on hands to keep them warm - or to keep babies from scratching chicken pox (although now there's a vaccine for that). I hated wearing socks as a kid (still do to this day) and I would go barefoot anytime I could, including winter when it was snowing! I have memories of socks being lined up by the back door drying after my brother, David, and I would go out and play in the snow. We would wear two pairs of socks and play in the snow until we couldn’t feel our toes. My mom would have hot chocolate ready for us to warm up and two more pairs of clean socks to do it all again.  

I remember later in my mom's life she had a saying about socks. She recommended you start your day out with a pair of socks that don’t match. Why? This was to help remind herself it's okay not to be perfect. While I was in college I would purposely wear mismatched socks on days of tests to remind myself it's okay not to be perfect. As years have gone by and I've started visiting my doctors more often I would wear mismatched socks. Some of them would look at me oddly, others would bluntly ask if I was aware I was wearing mismatched socks. When you have a brain injury it's kind of "fun" sometimes to see how the brain doc reacts to mismatched socks. It's a good reminder though… especially to someone with my personality (the perfectionist type) … if you can look at your feet (and gasp) and can be okay, it somehow makes it easier to except the reality of imperfect moments. Maybe now that my mom has passed on - she is the one hiding all the missing socks to play "sock-ball" with the angels? Hey, you never know…     

People still make that pit stop through Fort Payne. It is the home to the band Alabama.There's a famous museum and statues of each member of the band stand still for the perfect photo op. Just down the road from Fort Payne is a Walmart packed with cash registers buzzing and in the clothing section more than half the socks are made in China. More importantly, you can still go to the "mom and pop" local stores throughout the town of Fort Payne and buy those unique and fun socks. Maybe you can even buy a extra pair just in case.     

Stay safe everyone - Enjoy Your Journey! 

Excuse me while I remove my socks...

💜

Enjoy Some Mountain Music

Northeastern Alabama

Staring at the shade of the covered bridge you wouldn’t know there was a couple hiding in the cover of the bridge stealing kisses and whispering secrets as the water rushes underneath. The clip-clop of the horses hooves slow down as they take shelter from the rain within the picturesque bridge. The tin roof keeps the rain from dampening the spirits of many travelers who cross over the rushing waters below. There are 10 (famous) covered bridges in Alabama. One of which is the Old Union Crossing Bridge in Northeastern Alabama. Hidden within canvas of natural beauty are wild azaleas at the Desoto State Park. All levels of hikers are welcome here with 360 yards of boardwalk trails and over 20 ft of octagon decks overlooking the fragrant flowers. The sounds of nature can lure in even the most hesitant writer to sit down and follow the rhythms of the surroundings. Beautiful moss-laden trees gently move as the wind glides through the tall pine trees mixing in a little "bug juice" for flavor. Sandstone cliffs over 600 feet tall, the deepest gorge east of the Rockies, can be found at Little River Canyon. Several caves with limestone, gemstones and even some of the rarest blind cave-fish in the nation can be found along the Tennessee River. For those who might be a little more risky there's a Dude Ranch for that “Cowboy experience” and even a ski resort off of Lookout Mountain.

There are elements of romance and mystique surrounding the town of Mentone, meaning a “musical mountain spring.” A treasure trove of unique pottery - a combination of folk art, Appalachian and Cherokee blended together on site – would all be missed by someone in a rush to see the world passing by.

A rustic log cabin playing peek-a-boo with the rich greenery is calling my name for some meditation under the stars. The movement of the wind flowing to its own cadence; mixed with the skittish, mid-tempo bird song; the distant sound trickling of the waterfall is all how I imagine the inspiration for Bluegrass music. Distinctively acoustic mountain "hillbilly" music, no electrical instruments of any kind are used in bluegrass music. It reminds me of blues music because it's "lonesome music" and yet jazzy because each instrument (violins, fiddles, banjos, guitar, double bass, etc) improvises taking a turn. Singing is normally soulful, sometimes rambling, other times gospel. Some good examples of famous bluegrass musicians are Alison Krauss, Foggy Mountain Boys, The Soggy Bottom Boys, Steve Martin, and Earl Scruggs.

As I stare up at the sparkling sky it's as though I'm looking behind a theater-curtain at a play into the past. Ancestors of the Cherokee and the Creek tribes lived in these Appalachian mountains dating back as far as 8000 BC. In fact, a Cherokee named Sequoyah lived here for some of his life. He fought and was injured in the heartbreaking Battle of Horseshoe Bend as a young man. It was as a soldier he witnessed the white man using “talking leaves” as a way to communicate and write messages. Sequoyah, unable to read or write any language, decided to invent a language for the Cherokee. At first most Cherokee resisted. By 1825 the new language was adapted as the Cherokee syllabary of 86 symbols. Eventually the word was spread of this new language and it was used to help create at least 21 new scripts and 65 languages in other regions. It's also believed the Sequoia trees in California, named in 1847, were in honor of Sequoyah. Oklahoma and North Carolina still have Cherokee immersion classes taught today.

... An owl flies by, reminds me of my travels. I must continue West.

One thing catches my eye before I leave the Mentone area - I see an odd rock I must investigate. It looks somewhat like a building and yet shaped like a boulder. As I get closer I see something atop the rock but I'm still hesitant. I hear a subtle noise and there appears to be a door. I open the door and find a tiny church built into the boulder. Yes, a church built into a rock as solid as can be – half church/half rock! From the front of the church there is a giant rock - I think "Upon this Rock" from bible school; maybe this is what it meant. Tiny pews facing the front pulpit. I can imagine someone being married in this quaint church. I'm sure some bluegrass gospel has been played inside this church as well. Regardless, this rock has some stories to tell!

The crumbling of the crisp white leaves outside reminds me I must move on…

The deep wooden paths lead to a four way break in the road. Uncertain which direction to take, I take a deep breath. I see some cars headed towards a small white building. I follow them out of curiosity. I sit outside and observe. Have you ever been in a small building where when someone speaks, or sings, and you can just feel the essence of the whole entire building surrounding you and everyone? Everything, including the materials of the wooden building, the people in the building, the stain-glass windows, the old wooden pews, the musty smell of the cloth materials, squeaky stairs, the noisy bell tower, and every page in the books seems to merge together as one entity. This is one of those moments. My memory starts to swirl …. 

The tiny white building is the Henagar Liberty Baptist Church. It is nothing fancy. The building is wooden and sits atop cement blocks. It reminds me of several Midwest churches. As a child my mom sang in a group called the Soteria Singers. As a result, we traveled around with the members of the group. While the adults were doing the sound check it was up to the kids of the group to explore - and you never quite knew what you were going to find. Sometimes bats (yes the creepy flying kind), sometimes it was the wooden boards in the balcony slowly bending with each movement, not knowing if your foot would break through or not; and sometimes it was the outside field where we would play hide and seek with the other kids - but we always entertained ourselves until it was time for our parents to sing. And yes, it made for some wonderful memories. You never know what small churches might hold inside … and for this church I think I can hear something rumbling the windows.

The Sacred Sound of Harp Music is a powerful capella four part harmony music. The Sacred Harp music consists of "shape-note" singing (triangles, circles, squares, and diamonds) instead of  fa, sol, la, and mi. The style was born in Colonial New England and has mostly disappeared except for the deep rural South. Sacred Harp music was popular during the civil war. Sacred Harp is not associated with any denomination, yet it is a deeply spiritual experience. This is about returning to a simpler time and fellowship.  Sacred Harp music is a distinctive type of singing - generally lead by one person standing in the middle of a hollow square formation with everyone’s voice aimed in the direction of that person. This is not about how well someone sings; but instead about the experience: about the sound, the heritage and the full gospel immersion. The term "sacred harp" refers to the human voice - that is, the musical instrument you were given at birth. In 1844, The Sacred Harp was published with over 500 hymns, odes and anthems. This is the foundation of the oral history and the tradition is keep alive today in various editions. Sacred Harp music isn't just music; it is a community where you feel safe and loved; it is a blessing and a hand to hold on to when you need to be comforted. During the past two decades, a revival has begun and with the release of movies like "Cold Mountain" and "O Brother, Where Art Thou?" Forty Sacred Harp songs (yes 40!) have been recorded at Henagar Liberty Baptist Church - yep, this tiny church - for the big movies!

From the back of the building I can hear someone dedicate a song to those who are sick, shut in and unable to make it to church. Another hymn number is called out and a song is sung. I am able to tell there's something more to this style of music than just a "hymn book" or a "two hundred year old tradition." The previous song ends. Someone speaks of those who came before and those who will come after her; then another hymn number. Someone else moves to the middle of the circle and they proceed to sing. This style of singing is definitely unique; and must be learned. It's almost as if it's from another planet. The solid force of this music is so strong, so strange, extremely soulful, harmonizing and powerful. It almost feels as though one could walk on the air around them - although that may be from the humidity in the air. I grab a hand fan. Someone notices me and invites me to stay for a BBQ potluck. It's explained to me that the best place to sit during the singing is in the middle of the square. Their tradition is not a passive one; but instead a participatory one. The intense sonic experience of standing in the center of the square is considered a benefit of leading the singing. She offers to let me stand in the middle with the next performance. I politely pass. I do better hiding ..er.. observing .. in the back of the building. Thanks anyways. I sneak out during the next song.

…As I settle in for the night I am grateful for my memories - and my new virtual journeys. It's taken a while for my writer's bug to bite. I can hear a steady galloping rhythm in the distance of a horse. As the horse gets closer, the clumping of the feet sound oddly of a strumming guitar. The jingle of the horse saddle sounds of a tambourine. The waterfall nearby mimic sounds of a piano pinging playfully. It's obvious that music is a happy, lovely experience with copious volumes of harmonic expressions and inspirations and stories to tell. The forest, with different languages and songs of love, doesn’t seem that far away from the heavens above. As I drift to sleep I wonder where my journey will take me tomorrow as I travel West through the state. And for tonight, I will let the owl "hoot" as he tells me his sorrows and sings me to sleep.

Talk about making some mountain music!

Alabama Book Summary

Alabama Book Summary:    

Note: I am adding a typed version (legible) of my book summary. I am still learning how to scan everything correctly into my blog and currently you are on my learning curve. At the bottom of this blog I have attached the pictures. I am anxious to get a moving through this state and hear any feedback from anyone who will give some.

This summary is very "by the book" without much added flare. I'm excited to share my next journals with you as well. Stay tuned.....   

Date Visited (Researched): From June 15th to July 31st, 2020

Note: I actually lived in Anniston, Alabama for 3, maybe 4 months in 1993. In fact, I was moving to Virginia on the day of the "Greatest Snowstorm" on record (for Alabama) - 13 inches of snow!

I'm at a point in my life where I just want to try and learn more. It's honestly a struggle to sum up everything I have learned and put it into words for someone else's enjoyment and for it to make sense - but I want so much to try.

Alabama is someplace where you can walk the grounds of events that changed lives forever. Around almost every corner there's a unique place, historic buildings; a bridge to cross or stairs to climb; and every last tree has a story to tell or a whisper to be heard. History buffs will be delighted in discovering all that Alabama has to offer. 

What I enjoyed most:

I really enjoyed doing the research! My perfectionist side of me is struggling with how to organize all my information and them making it relatable to share with others. There is so much to share - but I don’t want it to be boring, nor do I want to sound like a tourist magazine: but I finally decided I just need to pick up a pen and write. Travel increases cultural awareness, empathy towards others, historical insight and it's also a lot of fun!

What I found most interesting: This one is about me; not Alabama. Confidence is definitely a journey I must achieve on the inside. Yes some cheesy saying, I know. I grew up thinking my highest goal in life is for me to give the most of me that I can give. But as much as I give of myself, I also have to take time for myself or my tank will run too low. I also have to accept help when I need it. When I think of time for myself I feel selfish and yet my journaling, researching, and drawing have given me true benefits. As odd as it may sound, I'm thankful I have a reason to turn off the TV everyday! Small changes can make huge differences.

Next trip I would like to:  I would go during the fall. The summer days are too hot and humid! Spring and fall bring wonderful weather; although I must make note of "Dixie Alley." This is tornado alley and they tend to get raging tornadoes - the kind that destroy entire towns! The reason I would pick autumn though is because of the fall colors. Northern Alabama has an abundance of canyons, waterfalls, caves and hiking trails (several are ADA approved), and every tree you can think of (okay so 30 species of trees thrive here - maples, dogwoods, hickory, poplars, etc). Each tree will line the paths as the birds arrive from the North. Autumn also brings an abundance of festivals statewide: shrimp festivals down south, Bluegrass festivals to the North and BBQ championships all about. All festivals include the opportunity to learn history, traditions, and storytelling. If you mingle with the fishermen, farmers and locals who live there you may have the opportunity to experience their Southern Roots and Traditions as well as making current memories. History is still very relevant in Alabama and most people enjoy including you in their kaleidoscope of memories.  

Page 2:

Every town has a tale to tell ~ some cities are big, some small, some quaint, others eclectic, some historic, some are party towns, some just appear to be a dot on the map …. but every single one has a story to tell!

I'm going to start in Northeast Alabama (AL) and work my way around the state.

Update: I started to write a rough draft on NE AL and it turned out to be over two pages alone so… I’ve discover it’s like a professor asking for a 2 page report and I hand in a 10 page report (and yes I have done that before)! I want to share everything especially when travel brochures can be a bit one-tone or even tone-def. Granted, I do love those beautiful experiences of a glorious vacation but I'm enjoying those off the beaten path stories nobody hears about and real life history. You get the point… 

Taking pride in the past:

There's so much to learn - if only someone will listen. People of the South love their History – the good, the bad, and yes even the ugly. They also like sharing their Southern roots, traditions, storytelling and culturally diversity to express their worldview. To understand Alabama one can’t just look on the map and see the highlights or ask Google where the “hot spots” are to go. One must sit down at “Billy Bob’s Backyard BBQ” and spend an hour chatting with the locals or spend an afternoon on the wharf helping the local fishermen as they bring home the daily catch of the shrimp. There's an abundance of museums throughout the state, as well as festivals year round. All of this is to never forget their history.

Alabama’s state motto is: Audemus Jura Nostra Defendre” which means “We Dare Maintain Our Rights!” 

Without the history of Alabama the United States could have taken a much different route: from Helen Keller, Sequoyah, the Tuskegee Airmen,  Rosa Parks, Martin Luther King and John Lewis: all who stood up and help pave the way for equality (including women's rights, ADA rights, language rights, All human rights) and civil rights. Yes, there IS a sense of pride – and with every retold story, every gathering, every "come as you are" potluck, every tear shed - there is pride.  

Beautiful Land to Explore:

From the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains to the countless waterways “scribbled” throughout the state there are beautiful canyons and spectacular waterfalls to explore. Flying over-top you can see numerous valleys and patchwork fields made of cotton that look as though they've been dusted in snow; no, no, no - it looks as though a bag of flour has been spilled all over the fields! 

Page 3: 

To the North you can find the “long neck” abandoned excavators standing tall looking like hidden Brachiosaurus dinosaurs peaking through the trees. Buried within them are rusted, old deserted cars – maybe bitten by T Rex – all costing too much to remove, thus becoming a part of the scenery once those mines ran dry. Today the extinct dinosaurs have been replaced by "fancier ways" of mining by using water underground. Flying to the South one would find sugar white beaches and crystal clear waters of the Gulf Shores.

Round-trip Airfare from Medford to Birmingham Fall of 2020 is $274.00 Per Person

Key inventions:
Scientists in Huntsville helped propel the first man to the moon, the railroad system in Birmingham meant cotton and steel (among other things) could be transported out of state; first windshield wipers and later the first airbag. Also the first 911 call was made in Haleyville (inside city hall building); AL is where Mardi Gras originated (Not Louisiana) in 1703, and in 1836 it was the first state to recognize Christmas (the rest of the US didn't until 1870).

Main Crops: 

Cotton “Fields of Gold” / Peanuts and Pecans
Tobacco / Fishermen: Shrimp

Mining: Iron, ore, limestone, coal

Production: Only Mercedes factory in US - (because of all the steel produced in area) and Steel, Railroad, and Quilts- yes quilts!

And Music Production:
Blues / Southern Jazz Heritage / Bluegrass Mountain music
Fame Studios of Muscle Shoals - which recorded everyone from Hank Williams to Aretha Franklin, The Rolling Stones, Bob Dylan, Percy Sledge, Willie Nelson, Nat King Cole, Lionel Richie, and countless others. Jimmy Buffet grew up in Mobile and Emmy-Lou Harris was born in Birmingham. Needless to say, Alabama is the birthplace of a number of classic recordings. And I almost forgot the Band Alabama! Whether you enjoy the gospel sounds of Harp music or the "Boogie Woogie" rumble of jazz you should be able to tap your toe throughout the entire state!

Food:
All that excitement might just make you hungry so be sure to try one of their famous dishes:
BBQ Pork, Ribs, Chicken, & Brisket or something Fried - Everything: chicken, catfish, shrimp, pickles, okra, green tomatoes, pork chops, country fried steak n biscuits, to Homemade collards, Gumbo, Crawfish boil, hush-puppies, sweet potatoes, shrimp n grits, cream corn and Casseroles - of any kind, chicken salad on croissant, banana pudding with vanilla wafers, Sweet Tea, Lemonade, Boiled Peanuts, Pecan Pie, Homemade fudge, Are you hungry yet?!

Below are the pictures of the Alabama Book Summary Pages 1-3 

Alabama Book Summary - Page 1 

Alabama Book Summary - Page 2 

Alabama Book Summary - Page 3