The South

One Lucky Dog

It’s pathetic, really. The way we gush and carry on over a stray mutt. 

But she’s our stray mutt – and I would argue that she is probably the most well-loved and pampered mutt across this country. Or at least in the southernmost states. 

The vet tells us to make up our own breed for her – she’s one of a kind. Of course, we already knew that. Her fine pedigree causes her hair to be wiry all over, with the exception of the top of her head where a fluff of hair sticks up proudly like a mohawk. Her tail is curled and poised like a show dog’s, but her ears are floppy and too big for her small face. Her chin has gray hair so scraggly and long that it appears she is trying to compete in a goatee contest, and her frame is too small for her tall legs. In other words, she’s perfect. 

Grover Mae doesn’t know how lucky she is, although we try to tell her often. She doesn’t realize that not every dog gets hugs and kisses until it becomes obnoxious. She doesn’t realize that not every dog gets to choose where she will sleep at night – a cozy dog bed nook, or snuggled in between the pillows of a comfy couch, or even better, on top of her human’s legs in a bed that was once only meant for people. She doesn’t realize that not every dog gets a birthday party, complete with a home-made cake and cards. 

No, Grover Mae spends her days happily chasing squirrels and begging for doggie snacks, not once stopping to think about how her life could have been so different. 

If we hadn’t decided to keep her. 

But we did. We couldn’t resist her the day she wandered into our backyard, skinny and shaking. Amelia threw her toddler arms around Grover Mae’s flea infested neck and cried, “Can I keep her?” with all the emotion a little girl can have. We relented to that tiny but strong-willed girl, and bought the dog a blue collar since we knew it was a boy. Hence the name Grover (we later had to feminize it after a quick check from the vet who was disappointed in our knowledge of dog anatomy). And then came the sickness with worms, and even worse, Parvo. And a stay in the doggie ICU. And lots and lots of dollars later. 

Perhaps Grover Mae could have never found our yard that day. And she would be so lonely without us. She would never know the love that comes from somewhere deep down, the love that is shaped out of pure joy and selflessness. She wouldn’t know that she was missing out on all the hugs and kisses and snuggles on the couch. She would never understand all that she was losing by not being with us. 

I tell her all of this as she sits on the couch beside me in the early hours of the morning and I stroke her belly. I tell her how wonderful her life is because we are in it, how lucky she really is that we saved her all those years ago. I tell her that she would be missing so much if she weren’t here and how life is so much better with humans in it. 

She looks up at me with these perfectly round, big brown eyes. She cocks one floppy ear slightly higher than the other. She lets out a little whine to tell me she knows the truth. 

She knows who saved whom all those years ago. She knows who would be so lonely if she had never shown up that day. She knows who the lucky ones are. 

“Good,” I tell her as she settles back down on my lap. “I’m glad we have that straight.”

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The Summer of Elvis

Dear Friends,

With summer coming to a close, many of you have asked me about our Summer of Elvis. (For those of you who are new, I am a little strange in the fact that I like to name my summers. If you haven’t read about The Summer of No, you can read it here.) I’ve had a few weeks to think about our Summer of Elvis and to really contemplate what I gained from it. I’ve thought about why Elvis became so important to my little family, how sometimes we can glean meaning from the oddest things, and what specifically the Summer of Elvis has taught me.

Listen carefully, because I’m going to share with you the important things I learned from our summer.

Are you ready?

You might want to grab a pencil and notepad to write this down.

This summer, The Summer of Elvis, I learned this . . .

Nothing.

Nada.

Not one darn thing.

I haven’t got anything important to tell you about what I took away from The Summer of Elvis because frankly, I didn’t take away anything from it.

It was just really fun. And that’s it.

Scott, I, and the kids visited Graceland at the end of May and we were all touched and surprised at the life of Elvis. We learned little things about his life and growing up in the South, something we could all relate to. We visited his gravesite which was quiet and beautiful. Then we rolled our windows down and blasted Elvis music all the way home. We were hooked.

This summer we listened to all the Elvis songs we could find. We helped Hugh search music shops for old Elvis records. We listened to podcasts about Elvis (my favorite is Malcom Gladwell’s podcast called Analysis, Parapraxis, Elvis). Hugh learned to play “Suspicious Minds” on the piano and we would all sing along as he played – Hugh taking the lead with Amelia on back-up vocals. We got Elvis books from the library. We researched how Elvis died, where Priscilla is now, and who is in charge of his vast fortune.

There were late night discussions with friends around our dining room table about whether Elvis was the real deal or if he had stolen his style from less famous R&B singers from the South. The kids learned that their grandparents had once been crazy teenage Elvis fans who had actually gotten to attend some of his concerts. We learned about young Elvis, movie star Elvis, and not-so-healthy chubby Elvis (but like Amelia says, “We don’t talk about fat Elvis”). We soon realized that Elvis is something you can discuss with almost anyone. Elvis was connecting us to all sorts of people in a lot of different ways.

So maybe there is a lesson in The Summer of Elvis after all. Maybe the lesson is that there are times when we just need to have some fun. Maybe we need to step off the ladder, put on an Elvis record, and sing as loud as we can. Maybe it’s ok to do something just for the joy of it all – with no other reason than that.

I’m sure there have been times in your life, as there has been in mine, when there isn’t much fun happening. When Hugh was first diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes and we were in the hospital with him, I couldn’t imagine ever having fun again. I thought our life was going to be a nightmare of shots and constant worry and numbers that I didn’t even understand. There wasn’t any laughter and there was definitely no fun.

But you know what? That was over 5 years ago and we have had so much fun since then. I guess I could have said no to all the fun – I could have used Diabetes as an excuse to never laugh, never play, never indulge in the joy of life. But, literally, where is the fun in that?????

Life is a lot of hard things, but it’s also a lot of fun. There are times to work hard, there are times that are painful, there are times when we just can’t laugh, but there are also times when the fun returns. I promise it will. You just have to open yourself up to it.

And if you’re kind of stuck right now, maybe in a place where there’s not a lot of joy and not a lot of fun, may I suggest putting on an Elvis record or downloading his greatest hits? Close the door and practice your best Elvis dance moves, sing until you are out of breath, and whenever you leave the room, announce that Elvis has left the building. It’s not magic, but it is a start.

After all, Elvis would want you to have a little fun.                   

Thank you, thank you very much.

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Go Where There Is Good

Dear Friends,

I know.

I know how hard it is to hear of another tragic event happening in our world. I know what it’s like to be struggling with why right now. I know what it’s like to be hurting. I know what it’s like to question your Faith and your God and to wonder if there is anything kind left on this planet we call home.

I know.

There are days where it all falls on top of you and you have to be the bad guy at work or at home or with your spouse. There are days when you turn on the TV and turn it right back off again because you just can’t take the media bickering and the catastrophe of bad news.

I know.

I know that there are social media bombardments for you to pick a side, to take up arms and fight, to shout out your opinion as loud as possible so everyone can hear your outrage.

I know.

Not too long ago I struggled with these things too. I felt like I was drowning in the sea of negativity that is constantly swirling in our world. There were difficult times before Hugh’s diagnosis of Type 1 Diabetes, of course, but his diagnosis was almost more than I could bear. The fact that my young son was diagnosed with such a cruel and un-forgiving disease was confirmation for me that the world was bad, and more specifically, out to get me.

I was angry. And everywhere I looked, for those first few months, I saw bad and evil and wrongs. Through my eyes blurred with tears and through the fears in my heart, I only saw the worst.

But I just couldn’t stay there. Maybe it’s the way I’m hard-wired. Maybe it’s the copious amounts of coffee I drink. Maybe I’m just goofy from lack of sleep.  Or maybe, just maybe, I had to go where there is good.

My grandparents own a farm in rural Mississippi and even though my grandfather has passed away, my grandmother still lives on the farm and we visit her often. Our Mississippi family has now spread out all over the country and spans the globe, but at any given moment, there is a house full of relatives and friends spending time on the farm. There are doctors and teachers, preachers and bankers, architects, engineers, nurses, therapists, students, and young children mingling around. There are people from different races, ethnicities, and countries, people who speak several languages, people who are Baptist and Methodist and Catholic. There are people who grew up in poverty, people who grew up in privilege, people who were educated in the best institutions in the country, and people who were educated in the rural schools of the South. When I wake up in the morning, there is usually already a group walking to the small pond, someone going fishing, a deep conversation happening on the porch, and there is always, always something wonderful cooking in the kitchen.

The sky is bigger there. The food tastes better. Colors are more vibrant and the stars are endless. The smells are a mixture of pine and grass and sweet potatoes roasting in the oven. And there, right there, in the middle of nowhere, there is good.

A few months after Hugh’s diagnosis of Type 1 Diabetes, we took the kids to visit in Mississippi and for the first time, I felt like I could breathe. As I looked around the kitchen table at the odd assortment of people who call each other family, I remember thinking “This. Is. Good.”

And do you know what? It didn’t matter that Hugh had been diagnosed with Diabetes. As painful and difficult as that was, we were still there, eating biscuits sticky with syrup, reading the morning paper, laughing over a story together. The goodness was there and it always will be.

For decades now, people have been loved and nourished around that kitchen table. It didn’t matter what language they spoke, what their background was, who they voted for or what country they voted in – they were all welcomed and accepted. When I think of God’s love in human form, I often think of that table with my grandmother serving food and loving generation after generation, NO MATTER WHAT.

Dear friends, listen to me closely. There is so much good in the world. Sometimes I get weepy just thinking about it. There are people sacrificing for each other. There are families saying I will love you despite our difficulties and fears. There are thousands of volunteers every day feeding the hungry or advocating for children or giving their time and money for no other reason than it is the right thing to do.

So what do you do when the negativity seems to overwhelm you? When all you see is anger and fighting? I think the answer is very simple.

Go where there is good.

A rural farmhouse in Mississippi is not the only place where there is good. Step out of your box. Go serve a meal to the homeless. Sit on the back pew of a church somewhere and listen to the words of an old hymn. Volunteer to help children with special needs. Park yourself on a back porch with friends and laugh until the sun goes down.

Go where there is good.

Visit the sick in the hospital. Offer to sing at a nursing home. Invite all of your friends and your kids’ friends over for a night around a campfire. Share a meal with your family and for heaven’s sake, TURN OFF THE TV and PUT DOWN YOUR PHONES.

Go where there is good.

Remind yourself that there is still  good in the world and that it is all around.  But if you still can’t see it, come with me down a country road to a place where I know it exists. We will give you biscuits and a little bit of cornbread and black-eyed peas, and a whole lot of God’s love. And that might just help you open your eyes.

Love, Sally

P.S. Wallace Stegner writes in his book Crossing to Safety of a large family – “Happily, eagerly, they expanded their circle and let us in. Professors, diplomats, editors, bureaucrats, brokers, missionaries, biologists, students, they had been most places in the world and loved no other place as they loved Battell Pond. Their loyalties were neither national nor regional nor political nor religious, but tribal.”

The farm in Mississippi is my Battell Pond and the tribe is based solely on the fact that we know we are loved. I hope you have your own Battell Pond and that you feel God’s Beautiful Love when you are there. Find your place. Go there often – but don’t stay there. Go back out and share that goodness with others. The world is so desperate for it. 

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