Ringing Like a Bell

I woke up early on Friday to take my car to the dealer and have a couple of recalls fixed. On the way back, I had two choices. I could take Highway No.1 back to Youngsville, or I could wind my way home to Louisburg on old Highway 39. I decided on 39. The sun was bright and shone on an old graveyard, grass freshly mown and oddly beautiful. I passed houses with white sheets fluttering on the clothesline. I drove slowly listening to my favorite newgrass bands: The Vespers, The Wailin' Jennys, and Sarah Jarosz. I admired the lush tobacco with its pale pink blooms, waiting to be topped. It was one of those moments of joy, contentment, and awareness. I was right where I wanted to be. Somewhere along the way I realized something funny. I was, without realizing it, smack in the middle of one of my dad's car rides. When we were little, he'd round us all up on sweltering summer days and announce, "Come on kids, we're goin' for a car ride!" I hated it then. The ...

I embarrassed my brother. It wasn't the first time, and it won't be the last. He took us (my husband, our sister, and me) to eat at Big Bob Gibson's BBQ when we were in Decatur, AL. First, let me say that the place is a destination all by itself. If you're not from North Alabama and you've never had smoked chicken with white barbecue sauce, don't let yourself die without trying it. I think it is the next best thing to manna from heaven, but I also understand that's how most Southern people feel about their local barbecue flavors. Consequently, my own love of white barbecue sauce made eating at Big Bob's a highlight of my most recent trip home to see my family. Anyway, back to the story. My brother is one of those people that can make friends with anybody. It's a trait he surely inherited from my dad. You might come up on one of them engaged in the apparent conversation of his life and ask, "Who was that?" To which he will reply, ...

I have a good memory for faces but not always for names. My husband teases me unmercifully about it. He wobbles his head around in imitation of me and says, "He looks familiar!" It all started one night when a new episode of Cops was coming on. During the brief intro clip montage, I saw the face of a guy from my hometown. I perked right up and said, "Hey! I know that guy!" Sure enough, near the end of the episode, there he was being arrested during Mardi Gras. It happens all the time. Sometimes we'll be out somewhere in public, at a restaurant or a store. I'll turn to my husband and say, "I think I know that guy -- He looks so familiar to me." Then the waiter or clerk will say, "Hey! Remember me? You taught me five years ago!" My husband just shakes his head and says, "I swear. We can't go anywhere." It is a small world after all. Sometimes I'm sure he thinks I'm making it up, but I do really recognize peop...

Have you ever been to the aviary at the zoo? It is one of my favorite places. You walk into this artificial tropical dome fulled with plants and stunningly beautiful birds, and there's no barrier between you and the loveliness. You're allowed to walk through there and drink in the peace. There's also a sort of noisy silence inside the aviary. I say that because it isn't quiet in there at all, but there's a still, almost holy feeling when you step inside.  You can spend as much time in there as you'd like, listening to the exotic calls of unseen birds and waiting to catch a glimpse of the ones who decide to show themselves.       I'm reminded of the aviary on Sunday mornings when my ladies' Bible class meets. On some mornings, every woman wears a different color, and every week I'm struck my by the different beauties each woman brings. One brings her practical love for serving others. One grows roses. Another brings her particular love ...

If there's ever a Lifetime movie made about my life, I'm convinced it will amount to nothing more than a chubby actress bumbling through life enduring a series of clumsy, self-inflicted accidents. Scene one : she falls off her tricycle and skins her knees. Scene two : she loses her grip on the merry-go-round and is launched into a huge puddle of red mud. Scene three : an entire montage of bike wrecks. Scene four : she knocks down an entire row of tables at McDonald's. Scene five : an entire montage of horrendous athletic accidents -- tripping, bobbling the ball, getting smacked in the face... Scene six : she falls, head first, down the bleachers. Scene seven : she loses her balance and rolls down a hill on her college campus. Scene eight : she tumbles off her stool while her students are testing. Scene nine : she slips while trout fishing and nearly breaks her arm. Last night I added a new one to the list; I fell out of the church van while Christmas caroling. ...

Do you ever think about what your younger self would think about you now? I do that sometimes. Usually the younger self I envision is my nine-year-old self. There are reasons for that -- my ninth year was a big one. I was put on my first diet then; something that has been an ongoing struggle ever since. I got baptized and committed my life to Jesus that year, still the best decision I ever made . When I think back, that was the year right before I waded out into the choppy waters of being a teen. As best I can tell, that year was the end of my childhood. I understood for the first time that I was responsible for this life of mine and that I had decisions to make. I also spent a lot of time then imagining my grown-up self. My friend Joey and I talked about it all the time. We discussed important things: whether or not we'd move away from our home town and what we thought middle school would be like.  I imagine my nine-year-old self would be ...

I'm a Hallmark movie kind of girl, so of course I got emotional waiting for my brother at the airport. I stood there on the day before Thanksgiving with about fifty other people. In any other situation, it would have been awkward standing so close to complete strangers, just waiting around in public, but all of us were united in the camaraderie created by waiting for our loved ones. A flight landed just before my brother's, so people started to trickle out. I watched as people I didn't know jumped into each others' arms, and little children cheered, "Grandma!" As I stood there, a lump developed in my throat. I hadn't seen any of my family in months, so I was already excited. I also felt moved by the love I could sense in the reunions of strangers standing around me. I recently read a book called Edmund Persuader . If you're a Jane Austen fan, you should check it out. Here's a quote that came to mind while I was waiting in the airport: It ...

A few days ago, I found out that one of my close college friends unexpectedly passed away over the summer. As you can imagine, I am grieved. The more I think about it, the worse I feel. Losing him is bad enough, but not knowing about it for months makes it even worse. Thankfully, one of our  mutual friends contacted me. I find myself regretting not keeping in better touch with him for the last few years. It's not a new regret. Since I moved away from my home state, I have been troubled about the friends that have slipped off the edges of my daily life. Distance separates us, and there never seems to be enough -- enough time, energy, or opportunity -- to keep those relationships healthy.  Deep down it feels like a personal failing because I genuinely love my friends. I want to know all about them and their lives. I want them to know how important they are to me. I also don't think I'm alone in this. The globe has gotten pretty small, and we spend differ...

I just read this article called, " New York's Craziest Prenups ." It detailed some of the strange stipulations from the prenuptial agreements of the rich and the not-so-rich. There's a part of me that understands having some sort of contract to protect material assets in the event that a marriage dissolves -- so many do these days. It's the other, now popular, demands that really bother me. In the article, examples were given that seem petty or just plain strange: no piano playing, no weight gain, no pregnancies, or even a fine for being rude to in-laws. I guess the people who sign these agreements before they tie the knot have their reasons. I'll also say that I'm far from being an expert on marriages or any kind of relationship for that matter, but I can't help but think extreme contracts like the ones I just read about defeat the whole idea of marriage. One of my all-time favorite poems is Shakespeare's 116th sonnet. Here's fresh, int...

"Oooh, let's call your husband and tell him you're trapped inside the building," he said. Two of my colleagues and I were filing out of the Raleigh Convention Center while the fire alarm blared in the background. I shook my head, "No way, that's beyond a joke; he'd probably have a heart attack on the spot." We stood outside for a while before the building was cleared, and we could go back inside. My two teacher friends and I were at a reading conference. Most of the other teachers there were elementary school teachers, and most of them were also women. In contrast, I was walking around with two men in tow wearing a flamboyant purple shirt and pink scarf. Not to mention the fact that the three of us possess more personality than the entire cast of SNL combined. Let's just say we were easy to spot. I'd love to tell you about how the conference changed my professional life and that I learned a million new strategies for teaching reading. I g...

My husband was in no way involved in the bridal registry process when we got married. I asked him about it, but he just brushed me off with a comment like, "Just pick out what seems best." So I did. I went around with the little UPC code gun and had a good ol' time. We live in the house my husband bought years ago, before we were married. There's a guest room painted a medium blue color, and when we were dating, it stood empty. I'd decided that we would need to put a bed in there for my friends and family to use when they visited, so I set out to register for things to furnish that room. Of course I told my husband about all this; however, I don't think it really registered . *wink* I chose a bed spread with different shades of blue, horizontal stripes -- I did not see the whole thing, outside the bag. I only saw the little sample through the window of the packaging. I couldn't imagine anyone actually buying us something that expensive, so I shrugged a...

We call my sister the baby whisperer . From the time that she was big and strong enough to carry around a baby, she's been unstoppable. She loves them. They love her.  Got a fussy baby? Hand it to my sister, and she'll have him calmed down in less than five minutes. She knows how to handle teething, bathing, diaper changing, and I can't ever remember her learning how to do it. She has a gift; she intuitively knows what an infant needs. Children under the age of five are inexplicably drawn to my sister. She's in college and works at a big chain store part time. She's told me stories about toddlers making their way to her no matter where she is in the store. They talk to her, show her things, and tell her stories. As I'm sure you can imagine, she's a wonderful aunt to all our nieces and nephews. She's the first person each one joyfully seeks out upon arrival at family gatherings. She isn't a mother yet, but there's no doubt she'll be quit...

Last year I read Malcolm Gladwell's book, Outliers . In the book he uses historical anecdotes to illustrate his overarching claim: success doesn't happen the way you think. He brings out several interesting points about community, experience, and simply being at the right place at the right time. He also points out some interesting things about the link between perseverance and over all success. I won't tell you all about it because you might want to read the book. I'd recommend it; it passed my fifty page test. Linking self-control and perseverance to success isn't a new thing. In the late 1960's a psychologist named Walter Mischel performed The Marshmallow Test . His original intention was to simply study the mental processes behind delayed gratification. It wasn't until years later when the children used in the study grew up that he realized the experiment had uncovered much more. What is the experiment? Watch this: Isn't Theo adorable? Mischel...

During my sophomore year in college, I sat in an African American Literature class. It was a great class. It gave me a healthy appreciation for the Harlem Renaissance and introduced me to a lot of new friends. We had just begun discussing The Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass when a classmate pointed out the tragic fact found in the first few pages, that Douglass wasn't sure when exactly his birthday was. He celebrated it on Valentine's Day, but he never knew his exact date of birth. All around the room people were saying things like, "I can't imagine not knowing my exact birthday." "That is so sad." Heads were shaking all around the room. I've never been a slave, and I'm no Frederick Douglass, but I do know what it's like to not really know your birthday. For years I celebrated it on the wrong day. As it turns out my mom was pregnant with my little sister when she filled out my kindergarten registration form. She wrote down t...

I love bluegrass. This isn't a new taste I've developed; I've always liked it.  Old school bluegrass is not something I want to listen to every day, but I can't get enough of the younger women singing in a style I like to call light bluegrass. It's really probably just folk music. Right now I'm listening to a lot of Sarah Jaroz, The Wailin' Jennys, and Crooked Still. I'm also crazy about anything live. You can watch something on TV, but it somehow never measures up to being there in person. Here's a universal truth -- just because something is  fun and awesome live doesn't mean it will be as great to watch on TV. How many of you groan when somebody says, "HEY! You're going to love this video of my son's second birthday party!"? That's what I thought. My husband and his parents aren't as crazy about that kind of stuff as I am. Sometimes I think I've married into a family of people that would actually rather skip t...

My mom called us all into the kitchen and lined us up in front of the sink. She was holding a stack of plastic cups in her hand. They were the colorful plastic ones we kids used. "I want to know who did this, " she was borderline hysterical. I'm sure on some days she would have rather been stuck with four cannibals than with four kids under the age of twelve. "I want to know so one day when I write a book, I can put the offender's name down." She held out the cups, and each one had a slice in it -- right down the side. Every single plastic cup in our kitchen was ruined.  I will tell you now that I didn't do it. That's what I told my mom; my three siblings also denied any culpability. All of us then turned to my brother, next in birth order after me. It was just the sort of thing he would do. He was forever trapping bugs outside and setting them loose in the house, mixing beverages in the kitchen, taking apart applicances to see how they worked, o...