Poetry Pause

Tags

acceptance, change, journeys, life, Poetry, stories

We seek to lessen the impact

Mend hearts broken

Ascend to higher roads

But the past pushes back

Reminding of what is already written

We are not rewriting

The story simply continues

It will not be changed from the beginning

And the beginning shaped what came after

The end remains unknown

But malleable

Soft

Fluid

Ink, not yet shaped or dry

Tragedy, or triumph

It is not merely determined by chance

The end of the story.

In the present moment

The past pushes back

Reminds

Recalls

Teaches

The present listens

And the ending was better for it.

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2019 Randoms

Tags

books, entertainment, Opinion, podcasts, random, reblog, reflection, stories

One of my favorite things about blogging is the connections it allows me to make all over the world. I wrote recently about my contentment, after years of aching for a bigger world, to find that there was one at my fingertips. I just had to be brave enough to venture out into it. Because there, on the other side of a screen, are people, just like me, writing about their lives, their hopes, their disappointments, their victories and their reflections. Just like I do.

One of those people is Claudette.

Claudette and I “met” through a mutual blog that we follow and now, months and months later, we are blog buddies.

From posting parts of her memoir to sharing the ups and downs of parenting, I love hearing Claudette’s perspective on life.

I tell you about Claudette, Writer of Words, to give props to her for her fabulous writing, but to also properly credit her for the idea I’m about to steal.

As a weekly segment on her page, Claudette will share what she’s been reading. Everything from recipes to fascinating articles on nature, parenting, tech – all sorts of interesting subjects.

I intend to do the same, except, y’all know me. It won’t be weekly. And it will likely be a hodgepodge of “stuff”. But maybe you’ll find it to be interesting. At the very least you might find a new recipe to try or a new podcast to listen to.

So, without further adieu, I give you:

2019 Randoms – Episode 1

1. The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel

Last weekend, this show won a couple of Golden Globes. It’s an Amazon Prime original, and if you don’t like sex or profanity, just skip on down to the next item. If you can handle such things and not take yourself too seriously, I highly recommend this show. It’s funny. It’s different. It’s charming. It’s casted perfectly. I’m only halfway into Season 1 and I’m in love.

I’m not a tv junkie, but I have taken to watching episodes of this show during my lunch break, so I guess you could say things are getting pretty serious. Seriously funny.

2. Serial: Season 3

I just finished listening to this podcast having loved season 1, leaving in the midst of season 2 and returning for season 3.

The episodes in 3 are all centered around one courthouse in Cleveland, Ohio, and the ins and outs of the justice system and how it does and doesn’t represent courthouses across the U.S.

I found the stories shared this season deeply moving. There is so much underneath each and every narrative that makes one wonder how we get at the roots of the problems in society to fix the issues that lead to criminal activity by both cops and citizens alike.

3. Books I’m reading

I always said I wouldn’t read more than one book at a time, but I find myself doing it more and more. I am simultaneously reading The Hate U Give by Angie Thomas (who attended my Alma Mater, woot woot!) and this month’s book club selection, Once Upon a River by Bonnie Jo Campbell.

Both of these books are difficult to read at times, but both have female main characters and an interesting array of others sprinkled throughout.

Both authors, so far, have done an amazing job and setting their scenes. I feel like I’m with them in the streets of their riot-filled city or on the banks of a rural river. Maybe that’s why I am able to do what I’ve never done before and be in the middle of two books at once, on purpose. Because they are so vastly different.

4. Something special

I’m going to throw in an extra here because I think everyone that loves books and libraries should listen to this episode of This American Life.

It’s rare that I chew on things for days like I did the episode of this podcast, but it deeply resonated with me.

I remember the library, as a child, being one of the first places that I looked forward to going. My mom used to take me and my sister all the time, and I credit my mom, that library, and a children’s librarian named Doug for instilling a love of reading within me that I still have and have passed on to my child.

If you carry heavy nostalgia about libraries also, or you’re just a fan of books or interesting stories, listen to this podcast. You won’t be disappointed.

Would love to hear about any recent favorites of YOURS in the comments!

The Year in Books…and other stuff

Tags

bonds, Book Club, book club selections, book review, book reviews, books, friendship, happiness, life, opinions, reading, review, sisterhood, stories

Finally, after what has felt like AGES, our book club reconvened.

We had some absences at the last meeting and their presence was sorely missed.

We have just completed our 2nd full rotation of selections, and there were some fantastic reads in 2018.

January- Allison’s pick (me!)

I honestly don’t remember which books I’ve reviewed this year and am too lazy to look this morning, but I’ll give a brief recap.

I picked this selection for several reasons. One, because I love biographies, two, because I thought our rotation needed a little non-fiction in the mix, and three, it centered on a group that doesn’t get a lot of attention: the First Ladies.

I really enjoyed the book, and learned a lot, especially about women like LadyBird Johnson, Pat Nixon, and Michelle Obama.

I have a huge amount of respect for the research the author put in, and it peaked my curiosity enough to delve deeper into some of the life stories of the women behind the scenes of the most powerful job on Earth.

February – LaRue’s pick

I didn’t get to finish this one. I got crazy sick in February, and missed our meeting, too. I WILL start over with this one at some point though because, despite my reservations (I’m picky about my fantasy novels) I was really enjoying it.

It was a little Game of Thronesish and a little something else…Ken Follet? It’s definitely on my “Go back and read” list.

March – Anna’s pick

One of my top 3 for this year. This haunting selection has stuck with me. A lot. And I was reading it during some of the worst depression of my life.

One wouldn’t think that was such a great idea, given this book is so centered on mental illness, but I understood Eleanor in a way that I don’t think you can unless you have been at rock bottom.

I loved, loved, loved this story. It was beautiful and heartbreaking and hopeful and sweet. I highly recommend it.

April – Meredith’s pick

I’ll be honest, I didn’t finish this one either. I struggled through the spring months to do anything productive outside of my job.

I enjoyed a lot of what I did read, though. But I don’t know if I have the mental energy to finish this one.

The author’s writing style is too much akin to my own racing thoughts, which I medicate to keep under control. But there’s no denying that it has some heart, and lots of humor. I respect anyone that can approach their own tragedies with the kind of perspective and honesty used in this book.

August – Kacie’s pick

Kacie generally gets to pick our summer selection. She reveals at the May meeting and then we discuss after a break for the summer. So, in August, we gathered to talk about this gem.

I was so apprehensive about this book in the beginning. It was unlike any novel I’d ever read. Set in Afghanistan, the plights of two different female characters are explored. It is a beautiful, raw, often-difficult novel to read that includes a lot about oppression, violence (domestic and otherwise), and poverty.

It was, at times, exhausting. But worth the effort. I will be exploring more by this author for sure and this selection would also be in my top 3 for the year.

September – Jen’s pick

Alas, I didn’t finish this book. It was one of the first books I tried to “read” via Audible. And I just couldn’t get into it.

I’ve already written a scathing review of this one, and don’t really care to rehash it here. I’ll just say that this book bombed with me, and pretty much everybody else in book club.

Hey, there’s bound to be a stinker in the bunch every once in a while. Mine went over like a lead balloon this year, even though I personally liked it. It’s part of what makes a book club interesting.

October – Rebecca’s pick

I loved Gone Girl. It wasn’t a difficult read, and I expected the same from this one.

But, actually, it was much more in depth and quite a bit darker than Gone Girl. I already had picked up the paperback months before this selection was picked, so I listened to some of it on Audible, and actually read some too.

I love Psych Thrillers. It’s one of my favorite genres. With Gillian Flynn, you are guaranteed some twists (which I love) and some truly WTF moments. I love for books to surprise me and this one did, several times.

I’ll be looking the miniseries up on Prime just as soon as I can devote the time.

November – Kim’s pick

Maybe my favorite book we’ve had and definitely in the top 3 for this year.

I listened to the entirety of it on Audible and, I have to say, the audio version was DELIGHTFUL. I finished it in less than a week and can’t wait for the film to be released in March.

It should probably tell me something when my favorite books usually involve a mental and emotionally unhinged main character. But I make no apologies.

This book involves a TON of emails, so I would recommend the audio version, just to help keep it all straight. I think my experience might have been different if I’d actually read it the traditional way because we got some mixed reviews on it at discussion.

Those of us who work in an email heavy field could be tempted to scan the pages like we tend to do our own email. And if one does that, they will miss some important details.

Even if you’ve never listened to an audio book, give this one a try. It’s worth it.

___________________________________

The Page-Turners met yesterday for our annual Christmas brunch. We gathered at Char in Jackson for food, drink, gifts, and a discussion of Kim’s selection. And to take a few photos for posterity.

(From left, LaRue, Rebecca, Jen, me, Kacie, Anna (in the back), Kim, and Meredith.)

I love, love, love these ladies with all my book-loving, nerdy heart. Their friendship means the world to me and their laughter has saved my soul more times than I can count. Keeping a club together isn’t easy, especially as busy as we all are. Two have moved, one out of state, one started college, many are family caretakers, and we all have personal responsibilities that often push us to our limits.

But we are committed to each other and this special thing that we created, together. I love that our club is as important to all of them as it is to me. I love that we have so much in common, yet our differences also bring us together. I love that we are supportive of each other and encourage each other and new friendships have been formed within this group while old ones have been strengthened.

Starting a book club is still one of my greatest ideas ever. I’m so proud that it stuck. And that, after 2 years, we are still going strong.

___________________________________

As we creep toward 2019, it was, once again, my turn to pick the selection so……(drum roll)….here it is

A Huck Finnish sort of novel (supposedly) but with a female lead. I’m super excited to start it!

Here’s to a new year of great selections and lovely discussions and, hopefully, time for reviews of them all.

Happy reading!

No mistakes

Tags

beginnings, hope, stories, writing

This is the image that greets me. Early in the morning, shortly after the first sip of coffee.

Is there a story in me, today? Are there words beyond my usual drivel and contemplations? Inspiration? Deeper reflections? Something worth writing? Something worth reading?

Nothing invokes joy and hope within me like the possibility of the unwritten word. The story yet to be told. Forming in my mind, even as I tap the letters to make words, sentences, paragraphs.

What to leave in, what to backspace. What to emphasize, what to leave to a reader’s own thoughts and reflection.

Writing births new truths to me, even as I type my thoughts. Ideas become clearer as they become black and white on the page. Life becomes bigger, yet more intimate.

Will someone I know, someone I love, read my words today? Will some stranger in a foreign land understand and connect?

Will it make them laugh? Cry? Give them a reprieve from some heavy thing they carry? Offer hope?

Some of the greatest words of literature,

Tomorrow is always fresh. With no mistakes in it.

And so tomorrow has begun, as it is now today. I check for errors, but there may still be a few. It’s not the grammar and punctuation that I most want to get right. It’s the heart of whatever story I’m choosing to tell.

So I stop. I read and re-read. And then I publish. And start my day in earnest. Knowing that also in that endeavor, I will have mistakes. Small infractions of error. But if I can stay true to the heart of my intentions, those small missteps may not, usually don’t, matter. Not in the grand scheme.

Here’s to another new day. A new week. A new story. With no mistakes in it. Not yet.

Size Doesn’t Matter

Tags

adventure, film, growth, humanity, journey, life, movie review, movies, Opinion, people, purpose, review, stories

I picked up a movie rental this weekend. An actual DVD. Out of a Redbox.

I had a coupon.

The movie was Downsizing, starring Matt Damon.

The previews had intrigued me when the movie was released, but I was actually quite surprised at the content, because it wasn’t at all what I expected.

I think my overall expectation was something akin to Honey, I Shrunk the Kids. But this was not that. It was something entirely different, unexpected, and…..deep.

Paul Safranek (Matt Damon) just wants a different life – a better life – and he has an underlying air of regret….”what if”, that seems to surround his character.

He doesn’t seem particularly happy, or unhappy, just one of the masses, doing the same things, day in and day out, for years.

When the prospect of “Downsizing” comes along, he seems ready to be convinced that this is his answer to an internal longing.

I won’t spoil any of the movie for you, I will only say that nothing turns out as Paul expects, proving that “small” life, is still just “life”.

The movie is long, and if you are easily distracted and very judgmental about film and its purpose as entertainment, you will not enjoy any more than maybe the first 30 minutes of this 2+ hour experience. After that, one is required to use their brain, and the film takes some introspective turns while also maintaining a level of quirkiness and humor that break up the solemnity of some of the subject matter.

Basically, what happened is this: I expected a movie about a guy who has himself shrunk so he can enjoy the rich life but he’ll end up having some type of epiphany about how life is more than “stuff”, yadda yadda yadda, bravo, Matt Damon.

And in that way, that’s exactly what I got. But it took a lot of unexpected turns along the way and was not at all what it appeared to be on the surface. Much like life.

I love movies that make me think about possibility. Obviously, “Downsizing” is science fiction, but the concept of there being more to this life than being on a treadmill of work, sleep, rinse, repeat, is a real and relatable idea that people struggle with all the time.

In the last few weeks, I have been thinking deeply about the value of life, and how often I feel trapped on the aforementioned treadmill.

I’ve been thinking about the innate desire that I’ve always had for more. Not more things so much as more meaning. More fullfillment. More depth.

And the truth is, the only thing that keeps me from obtaining those things is……myself. My choices. My decisions.

Herd mentality is hard to beat sometimes. It’s very easy to get caught in a cycle of materialism, concerned with whatever social media, political media, and advertisers think should concern us. But there are other ways, dare I say smarter ways to live.

I’m not jumping up and down about the excitement factor of this movie, but I was pleasantly surprised at where it took me intellectually.

I love that Paul went from a very “this is how it has to be” way of thinking to a “this is how is could be” mentality. He learned to roll with what life threw at him, and discovered how to treat every day as an adventure. Because it is. When you really stop to think about all of the possibilities that lie within even the seemingly (tongue in cheek) smallest experiences, life becomes richer, more unique and beautiful and exquisite than we often remember it to be.

And young or old, rich or poor, big or small, it can be that way for all of us. We just have to be willing to see the possibilities.

1600, 60, 5 and 1…continued (Part 2)

Tags

adventure, books, driving, fear, history, introvert, nature, photography, road trips, stories, Travel

After soaking up Friday morning’s gift of a sunrise, I set out to see a couple of nearby “touristy” things before I had to make the 4.5 hour drive to pick up my daughter.

My first stop was the Angel Oak.

Words do not do justice to this wonder of nature. I would have really loved to just sit in silence for a few hours beneath the limbs of this gorgeous giantess, but time was in short supply.

There were a lot of people visiting the Oak that morning, but I’m kind of glad they’re in my pictures. It helps give contrast so you can see just how enormous this tree actually is, in person.

The Angel Oak is estimated to be between 400 and 500 years old. More information here.

Reagan had a book when she was a smaller child….The Oak Inside the Acorn by Max Lucado. Lucado has always been one of my favorite inspirational authors and his storytelling has a way of giving me goosebumps on my heart. This tree reminded me of that little story I used to read to her. The potential that lies within all of us if we will accept ourselves, embrace our own unique qualities, and become who we were meant to be…..

The morning was soon over and giving way to lunchtime so I grabbed a drive thru meal and headed to my next destination.

I actually made my way through part of downtown Charleston to reach my next stop and it definitely whetted my appetite enough to want to go back and spend some time there. It appears to be quite unique and the bits and pieces I got to see from the road looked very inviting.

The only downside to traveling alone, that I can find, is that there were lots of things that it would have been handy to have a second person around to photograph. I crossed this monstrosity of a bridge and SO WISHED somebody had been there to snap a few photos. It was spectacular!

When I got into Mt. Pleasant, I made the short drive over to Boone Hall Plantation.

My reasons for wanting to visit this particular site were simple: it was in several movies including the North and South miniseries and The Notebook.

I didn’t really care for The Notebook, but I have a sort of guilty pleasure love of North and South because I’ve been in love with Patrick Swayze since forever. To this day, he’s one of only 2 celebrities I’ve ever dreamed about. (He rescued me from a burning house, btw, so, we are close like that.)

Anyway, giddy schoolgirl crushes aside, this still-operational farm is a beautiful estate.

The Avenue of Oaks leading up to the house canopy the driveway and immediately set this place apart from any other historic home I’ve seen.

The house itself is the 4th one to stand on the property, and was built in 1935. So, it’s not as “antibellum” as one would think upon first glance. The first house, which burned, was built in the 1600s and the last farmhouse to stand on the property before the current structure was a “simple” 3,000 sq. ft. home that was demolished in 1935 to make way for the home I toured.

Oak flooring from the original house was used in this home, as well as some of the paneling for the walls. The bricks used for the house and walls were recycled bricks, made on the once 4,100 acre plantation.

As tours go, this wasn’t one of the better ones I’ve experienced. But the beauty of the grounds made up for it. I always think of Julia Sugarbaker talking about the rude guests touring her home on Designing Women, with their “overflowin’ rubber thongs, Big Gulps, Slurpies, Misties, and Frosties!”

I saw a few of those on this tour, but there were a few snobs from Ole Miss there also, superiority radiating from them like heat. I saw another fellow Mississippian NOT dressed up like they were visiting the Kentucky Derby try and speak to the two couples from Ole Miss and watched as the wives exchanged disapproving glances at what the young woman was wearing. So much for state pride solidarity when traveling. I just watched in amusement and made my way toward the beautiful gardens beside the house after the tour ended.

The tour guide told us to pay attention to one of the pine trees when we left the driveway as there was a Bald Eagle nesting there for the 2nd year in a row. If you look closely, you can see the nest in this photo:

That Avenue of Oaks though….THAT was my favorite part of the entire place. So what? I drove to SC to see the beach, the ocean, and some Oak trees. Don’t judge.

I left Mt. Pleasant about 1:30 and arrived in Asheville about 5:30, but traffic stalled out and I didn’t get to hug my baby girl until after 6 p.m.

My ex advised me to not travel to Chattanooga (our stop for the night) through Knoxville. I listened because, (1) he travels that way more than I do and (2) they’ve been doing road work in Knoxville since God was a baby.

The “shortcut” took us through Nantahala Gorge, which was fine since it was still daylightish. I was glad to not have to drive it at night, though. I’d love to go back and explore the National Forest and the scenery throughout North Carolina was nothing short of beautiful.

We drove on. And on. And on. And then, approaching 9 p.m. and pitch blackness, we entered more, and unexpected, winding mountain roads. Reagan kept saying, “I don’t think that was all of the curvy roads we usually take….” but she is directionally challenged so I ignored her. Turns out, she was right, and the timesaving directions her Dad had given me included more mountain travel. Hairpin after hairpin IN THE DARK, not knowing if I veered off the road whether I would hit a bubblling stream or plummet down the side of a ravine and RACING FAST DRIVERS riding my bumper, PASSING ME….y’all, it was harrowing.

But at 10:00 p.m. I pulled up the Hampton Inn, made the sign of the cross, and parked my GMC for a nice, long, deserved rest.

Reagan and I slept in the next morning and, after brunch at Cracker Barrel, headed over to McKay’s books in Chattanooga. We visited back in December and fell in love with the place. Row after row of used books, movies, games, collectibles. We spent over an hour perusing the shelves and ended up with two sackfuls of happiness for our troubles.

I think there was a bit of a recurring theme to my selections….

The trip home was uneventful, but quite beautiful. The mountains are still not quite ready to put off their full spring plumage, but the Dogwoods, Bradford Pears, and especially the Redbuds along the road, and up in the rocky terrains were very pretty.

I wish I had some photos of them to share, but my co-pilot was battling heavy seasonal allergy symptoms and slept a good portion of the ride home.

What a whirlwind trip! Facing fears. Seeing some spectacular scenes of nature. Going to new places, both literally and figuratively.

I’m exhausted.

And I can’t wait to do it again.

Video Book Review

Tags

Book Club, book club selections, book discussion, book review, First ladies, government, politics, stories, video, women, Women's Issues

Holy Listening

Tags

people, stories

I woke up on the last day of 2017 to the sound of cathedral bells in downtown Mobile. 

“O Little Town of Bethlehem”.

After a morning out, we stopped in the hotel bar on the way back to the room to rest before our New Year’s Eve activities scheduled for later in the afternoon.

We sat at the bar, the only two patrons within range of conversation with her – the bartender.

Her name was Dasha. 

Upon first listening to her speak, I would have guessed she was from New Orleans. But the accent was actually one that had evolved over the last 20 years. 

She was born in Russia, near the Black Sea.

Shiny, dirty blonde hair slicked back into a bun. She wore very little makeup, only a bit of mascara – her glassy blue eyes sparkling with a type of hopeful innocence.

She talked about her children – all boys. About turning down jobs to be an interpreter for the U.S. government because she didn’t want to work for people she didn’t trust. 

Which is also, she said, why she didn’t donate to charities like “Blue Cross Blue Shield”. “I won’t help the rich get richer,” she said. 

Of course, she was really talking about The American Red Cross, but I didn’t correct her. I just let her talk.

She said that she wanted to help people. Homeless people and women and children. She wanted to pay it forward, because that’s the right thing to do. 

She said she had the Holy Spirit.

When she had her first son, a Christian charity helped her. The charity used a points program. If she went to a Bible study and other similar activities, she could earn points for supplies like diapers, wipes, etc. 

She earned enough points to get a car seat.

If she was going to help a charity, she said, she would help one like that. Because they had helped her. And she knew that they wouldn’t just pocket her donation.

As I listened to her talk about the charity that helped her, I began to feel anger. 

Anger at the ignorance. The feeling that someone, in the name of my Jesus, who gives love, grace, and mercy in abundance, and freely, would only give aid if someone earned “points”.

I still don’t condone it.

But then that same Holy Spirit that Dasha has, the one that I have, began to move my judgmental heart.

“What if, Allison? What if some people don’t want a handout? What if they want to feel like they earned something? What if it was through the good intentions, and not necessarily the actual acts, of the charity that led Dasha to believe in a God that is Love? Who are you to judge what you do not know? Doesn’t God see the heart, not the man?

Shhhh….just listen.”

So I did. Dasha continued to talk about the evils of “Blue Cross”. About paying it forward, helping those in need. Teaching her children about giving, not getting, especially at Christmastime.

I missed church on Sunday. 

But only the building.

Sometimes God shows up in cathedral bells on a freezing cold Sunday morning.

Sometimes He shows up in the smile of a stranger.

Sometimes He shows up in the sparkling eyes of a Russian immigrant bartender, reminding you of the simple truths that everyone needs a little grace, and that paying it forward is always the right decision.

How silently, how silently, the wondrous gift is given;

So God imparts to human hearts

The blessings of His Heaven.

No ear may hear His coming, but in this world of sin,

Where meek souls will receive Him still, the dear Christ enters in.

Hillbilly Elegy: A review

Tags

book review, books, Hillbilly Elegy, inspiration, memoirs, overcoming, stories

I love a good memoir. When I was a kid, our library had a fantastic children’s section. In fact, it occupied a whole floor of the building. 

When I was about 7 or 8 years old, I got on this kicker of reading biographies. They were written for kids, mostly about historical people, but I devoured them. 

I have loved to read since my mother taught me to do so when I was 4 years old. But I think it was there, in that little library in Oklahoma, that I fell in love with stories. The ones about real people who lived real lives. 

And, I think it was also there that my world was forever changed by books. 

When a child reads, even if they are stuck in one place for the entirety of their childhood, they understand that the world is so much bigger than whatever piece of earth they occupy.

In Hillbilly Elegy, J.D. Vance recalls his life experiences of growing up in the Rust Belt of America: his mother’s battle with drug addiction, the revolving door of men that came in and out of his life, the poverty, the ignorance of both his own culture and those who claim they can fix it with public policy. 

There are heartbreaking aspects to this memoir across the majority of its pages. But, ultimately, it’s a story of triumph. 

J.D. made it out of Ohio, and out of the cycle of his culture. He served in the Marines, graduated from Yale Law, and is happily married. 

But he is an anomaly. His book explores why he was able to rise above his circumstances and others are not so fortunate.

I gleaned from the book 3 or 4 reasons for this.

First, J.D. had grandparents that were a stable, supportive fixture in his life and a sister that stood by him as well. He mentions this albeit shaky stability throughout the narrative, and the book itself is dedicated to his Mamaw and Papaw. Having at least one constant, stable adult in a child’s life can do so much to combat the damage inflicted upon it by others. 

Secondly, education was emphasized and encouraged to J.D. by everyone closest to him. 

Thirdly, dumb luck, or Divine intervention, whichever you prefer. He even mentions himself that had any single, positive thing he mentions in his story been absent, it might have ended altogether differently. 

But, ultimately, it was his own choices that saved him; J.D.’s ability to decide he wanted a better life. 

It started with the decision to join the military.

The military gave J.D. the order that had been missing in his life and, more or less, taught him about how to actually be an adult. 

J.D. didn’t know the first thing about really being responsible with money, or the everyday things that one needs to do to have a disciplined, ambitious, and successful life. 

Every time the drill instructor screamed at me and I stood proudly; every time I thought I’d fall behind during a run and kept up; every time I learned to do something I thought impossible, like climb the rope, I came a little closer to believing in myself. Psychologists call it “learned helplessness” when a person believes, as I did during my youth, that the choices I made had no effect on the outcomes in my life. From Middletown’s world of small expectations to the constant chaos of our home, life had taught me that I had no control. Mamaw and Papaw had saved me from succumbing entirely to that notion, and the Marine Corps broke new ground. If I had learned helplessness at home, the Marines were teaching me learned willfullness.

The willfullness J.D. learned in the Marine Corps seemed to be the launching pad for his future successes and his ability to mentally rise above where he came from in Hillbilly culture. 

What’s interesting about J.D.’s story is not only that he rose above his childhood circumstances, but that he didn’t abandon his home in the process. Granted, he did put some distance between him and his family at times, but the majority of it was physical distance only. He maintained a close relationship with many of his relatives while actively breaking the cycle of that learned helplessness that surrounded him during his formative years. 

He speaks of having to put more than physical distance between him and his mom at times. Not because of anger, but out of self-preservation. J.D.’s desperation for his mother to finally kick her addictions is all over the pages of his story. From his very early childhood to present day, he has tried, again and again, to help her and love her through it. And he talks about how much he loves her. But he also talks about learning where to draw lines for his own mental health. And that, I’m sure, was a very hard lesson to learn. 

I get the feeling that J.D. has many strong opinions about what will and will not help the culture that he grew up in become a better environment. But he doesn’t speak to those opinions very specifically. In fact, many times he says he isn’t sure what the answers are, only what they are not. 

Public policy can help, but there is no government that can fix these problems for us.

But what about those kids, those “at-risk” kids that come from the same situations, same cycle of poverty as J.D. who don’t have a stable grandparent? Who don’t learn to value education? Whose choices hinge upon just what they’ve seen and experienced, and not what they are encouraged to believe is possible, and not just possible, but possible for them? 

The challenge I got from Hillbilly Elegy is understanding the role that any stable, successful adult can play in shaping the life of someone caught in the perpetual rotation that seems to go along with poverty and some degree of ignorance.

J.D. would tell you, I’m sure, that this is not an easy task. 

Working class whites, especially in places like the Rust Belt, and in the south, have a lot of pride. Many individuals in these areas begin to see a divide in the culture of “haves” and “have nots” from an early age, and it is regurgitated from one generation to the next that the world can’t be trusted and is out to get them, deceive them, and warp them. 

It can be next to impossible to help someone rise above their circumstances, when (1) they don’t see anything wrong with their circumstances and/or (2) they believe you are being condescending.

If I took any issue with this book, it was that J.D. did, in fact, come across with, what translated to me, as some thinly veiled condescension. I don’t believe it was necessarily intentional. I think it comes from exasperation and years of climbing out of the place that could have very well been his undoing as a human being. 

Hillbilly Elegy is a really interesting story. One that provokes a lot of thought, as memoirs will do, about how our own lives are shaped. 

I think back to those days in that library of my youth; reading my stack of books, and how, because of that, I’m writing this post now about a book that I just finished that captivated my attention. A story about a real person who overcame real problems.

Some things never change. Hillbilly Elegy proved that to me in many ways. 

The questions are, what can change, what should change, and how can we be a society that encourages people to be the best versions of themselves that they can be?

Guest post by Reagan

Tags

art, daughters, guest post, journey, nature, stories

My daughter just returned from a week at Mississippi School of the Arts. One of her discipline focuses was literary art. At the end of the week, the students chose a piece they had written and it was all compiled into a journal for them to take home. 

Here is the piece that Reagan wrote:

A Dream to Remember

Reagan Ishee

    The forest is filled with rich shades of green and brown, as I start my journey through the woods. The path that curves in front of me is damp and the air smells clean after the light rain from the night before. As I walk forward onto the path, I step on a twig, which makes a muffled snap as the birds fly out of the trees. I watch them as they leave then go on my way down the path that continues to twist before me.

  The path seems well worn, with pine needles and plants pressed flat against the forest floor. I see an area of the ground that looks slightly different than the rest and as I approach, I see that there is something buried underneath the packed down earth. I uncover a broken teacup, with blue and pink flowers painted on it. I put the pieces in my small bag and move on.

    I hear running water farther up the path. I started to move quicker in hope that it is safe to drink. The small stream looks safe as I approach, but as I lean over to take a sip, the water changes color. I stumble back and watch in awe as the color continues to change from blue to brown to pink and then to gold. As I peer closer, I see hundreds of tiny fish swimming. All of them changing colors to the same rhythm as they swim. I look for a way the cross the stream after deeming the water unsafe. I look to my right and see an old, rickety, wooden bridge. After glancing back at the water, I decide to take my chances and cross it.

    Farther up the trail, I see something that makes me freeze in my tracks. On the path before me I see two, huge black bears. I slowly lay onto the ground and close my eyes. They growl and I can feel it in my bones. My heart pounds as the grounds shakes when they start lumber towards me. They sniff my face and the rancid smell of their breath makes my eyes water. I stay still and finally they move on.

    When they finally leave, I continue my journey and stumble upon a house. On the outside, it looks like a simple log cabin. I approach the door and as I do, it slowly creaks open. I peer inside and gasp. There are multiple floors high above me and lavish furniture is everywhere upon the marble floors. As I move closer, I start to see shadows moving along the halls. After having enough terrifying encounter for the day, I leave immediately.

    Later along the path, I run across a small white picket fence, no taller than my waist. It looks stable, but as the wind blows, it falls over. I continue on my way until I reach the field I was searching for. Bright green grass and red poppies cover it for miles and miles as far as the eye can see. All of a sudden, I notice a stranger standing in the middle of the field. I approach the pale-skinned and dark- haired figure. I reach for their shoulder and it turns around.

    Before I can make out any features, the world becomes foggy and when it clears, I awaken from my dream.

Not to brag, but my kid is awesome.