"He has achieved success...

...who has lived well, laughed often and loved much; who has gained the respect of intelligent men and the love of little children; who has filled his niche and accomplished his task; who has left the world better than he found it, whether by an improved poppy, a perfect poem, or a rescued soul; who has never lacked appreciation of earth's beauty or failed to express it; who has always looked for the best in others and given them the best he had; whose life was an inspiration; whose memory a benediction." -Bessie Stanley, 1905

Hello Friday, nice to see you again. And September... Where the heck did you come from? Regardless, happy to have you both. Sunshine, thank you for joining the party. It would be terribly dull without you.

The weeks go quickly and if I don't take a moment to appreciate the small moments that comprise them, I may miss something special. The angst of young adulthood sometimes leaves me a bit on edge, though.

That's why I love, love, love this quote. A few read throughs, and five deep breathes and I am back in a happy place. To whom do I owe my thanks? I was interested to know more about the woman this consoling declaration is attributed to. A Google search of Bessie Stanley revealed a series of entries about this poem but little else.

Thanks to this nifty website, I read the history behind the poem Success. It was commonly credited incorrectly to the prolific Ralph Waldo Emerson. According to Bessie's great granddaughter, the poem  was the winning entry in a contest run by Brown Book Magazine in 1904. The winnings of $250, back then was enough to pay off the author's mortgage and then some. My, how things have changed.

There were no other books or projects by Bessie Stanley widely publicized. Sure the early 1900's lacked the same, robust methods of documentation we have these days. Nonetheless, her name is not readily recognized, nor can I seem to find other things she left behind. Just this brief paragraph, which in essence does exactly what she defines as a "success".

Thank you, Bessie. You've done well.

With much love,

2013

All You Need is Love and Country Music

I have always been a fan of country music, at least for as long as I can remember having an iPod. Even before then, my Mama loved the feel good tunes the genre is known for so we were exposed to it at the very least. I can recall my first Rascal Flatts concert. Regina, my sister, and I balled our eyes out when the guys sang "He Ain't the Leavin' Kind",  while military officers marched on stage in front of a backdrop of beautiful imagery: American flags, families reunited, all that good stuff. Getting chills all over again just thinking about it.

My affinity for country music has been heightened even more so of late. My boyfriend James is a former Marine, although you are never really a former US Marine. That allegiance is hard coded into your psyche indefinitely. Unfaltering patriotism and loyalty are forever etched into his soul; that level of commitment is remarkable to me. Sometimes living with James is like being in my own little boot camp. Through him I am able to share some of his unforgettable experiences. I can't claim to understand his memories; those are priceless and he earned them. But I can still appreciate him for all he, and people like him, have done so selflessly. After his tours as a Combat engineer, positions in Paris and Jerusalem exposed him to culture, history, and decadent cuisines. A five year stint in Texas left him with an adorable twang, adoration of and savvy preparing smoked meat, a knack for line dancing, and last but not least a love affair with country music.

Thankfully, James introduced us to NASH FM. Being a Jersey girl, it was hard to find a good source of country tunes on FM radio. While at college and carless, I didn't have the same free time to listen to tunes anyway. Since the hurricane (our term of endearment for James) moved to the metropolitan region, the whole family has been converted. Regardless of what vehicle you find yourself in, and among my immediate family there are five, you are sure to hear 94.7 blaring.  My morning commute has never been more enjoyable. Although I only have 15 minutes in the car, they are 15 happy ones. The personalities on the Morning Show are vibrant and funny. The content is clean, uplifting, and yes, still entertaining. I don't know the cast personally, they seem like genuinely good folks and I love spending my mornings with them.

The parents, my sister, James and I found ourselves barreling down the Parkway for a beach day this past weekend, and we sang to our hearts' content the whole way there. Luke, Blake, Florida Georgia Line.... and the smell of salt water. It was the quintessential American experience. (Mom drives a Chevy; only American cars in our family.) At home, the story is the same. James rigged speakers in our garage so he can listen to music while he plays darts. He has loads of Spotify playlists spanning country music history. Colt Ford, Jason Aldean, Conway Twitty - the whole gang. These are my companions and I wouldn't trade them.

In this region, country music doesn't always get the appreciation it deserves. Sometimes there is a stigma associated with it. Some people just prefer the Kanye or Gaga types. There is a place for all genres. But if you really distill down the content we are exposing ourselves and younger generations to, I think we should do our best to emphasize the country variation more strongly. Maybe society wouldn't be on quite the downward spiral.

Lee says,

"Be a best friend, tell the truth. And overuse "I love you".  Go to work, do your best. Don't outsmart your common sense. Never let your prayin' knees get lazy. And love like crazy."

Sounds about right to me.

Justin Moore would visit loved ones If Heaven Wasn't So Far Away. According to Miranda's A Heart Like Mine, we would all increase our tolerance of people's differences.  The intoxicating nature of being in love and "This life would kill me If I Didn't Have You".

There is a fair dose of sadness - the heartbreak of losing people dear to us. Most of my favorite songs bring me to tears before the last measure.  I think part of the comfort with discussing the tough topics like lives ended too soon, sickness, and heartbreak, is their closeness to God. If anything, it is admirable to be courageous enough to acknowledge the vulnerability of the human condition and embrace it with open arms. "I Will See You Again".

What is quite important to notice is what they are not singing about. Not many references to violence (except kicking an ass or two, but all in good fun or if it is deserved). They discuss the derrier of course, but the dialogue is a far cry from over-sexualizing men and women. I cannot find that many if any mentions of rape, explicit content, slurs, and diminutive language. They like beer, but who doesn't. Probably a safer bet than Molly's. Maybe Robin and Miley can learn a thing or two from Carrie and Brad. We can only hope there would be fewer news headlines about twerking and infidelity.

• Proud of coming from Flyover States and Small Town USA.
• They support the brave troops who protect us. Just ask Toby.
• Always have fun at The Parking Lot Party or in Red High Heels.
• And People are Crazy.  Well, obviously. 

The underlying themes are consistent. God, Family, Country... Loyalty, Love, Resilience.  I can't argue with those.  There is an immense amount of fun, kissing, beer, and the like. I still choose country over many other popular genres, hands down.

Like I said before, there is certainly a place for different music, beliefs, and forms of expression. That is what makes this America. Fine men and women fight day in and out here and abroad, so we can listen to and say whatever we wish, even if sometimes what we come up with is probably better left unsaid/undone. But I would recommend a healthy dose of NASH FM if you need some perspective. Don't be surprised if you have a more inspired, fun-loving, and grateful attitude afterwards. 

Something's in the air

Summer is nearing its close, as everyone is scrambling to tie up loose ends before school time, bidding fairwell to all the projects we vowed to finish during vacation, but somehow didn't. It's ok though, autumn brings yet another chance to find balance. The temperature drops nicely, a new harvest arrives, and proximity to Christmas brings a general feeling of joy.

School is starting soon, not for me but for my parents who work in the school system. For lots of my friends too, who are embarking on graduate school. I have been working, navigating young adulthood, so the concept of summer does not hold the same significance. But, I can recall that nervous feeling that settled in the pit of my stomach the week or so before school started. 

On the flip side, school starting always meant seeing dear friends again. In our university bubble, distance was no obstacle. Your entire scholastic and social network was within a block or two radius of you.  Last minute yoga classes, dinners at the Tombs, and wanderings on M Street with a latte and stimulating conversation were plentiful. Staying up late, flustered about pending deliverables was never pleasant but at least we were in good company. 

I don't have to pack up my dad's Chevy pickup, or negotiate how much stuff I can fit into a tiny bedroom this September. It was a special time for me, but I am not necessarily longing for it all again. I firmly believe each chapter in your life is the best one, or at least I should strive to make it the best one. Neither the past nor the future are within our grasps as firmly as the present. What I do long for again is the connectivity that college afforded me. Studying alongside gifted young people from all over the country and world, with professors at the forefront of their respective fields. Nonetheless, something's in the air, something good.

I have noticed of late a general rekindling of relationships (plural) that I treasure. Not that I ever intended to lose touch with people I care about, but it happens sometimes. Everyone is off leading their own lives and there are only so many hours in the day to fit it all in. Whenever I feel saddened by this change in circumstances, I reassure myself that regardless of how much time passes, people that occupy a place in your heart are never really that far away. Nothing replaces actual communication though, so it is uncanny, and wonderful, how all these exchanges came at once.  Last minute visits, long overdue catch up phone calls, and simple message exchanges have been so refreshing. Maybe the universe has a way of keeping kindred spirits aligned. Regardless of the explanation, my heart is glad. 

Even though I won't be starting another year of coursework, I can feel that same excitement of returning to the hilltop by strengthening ties with the friends I forged there. It is essential to be connected; it makes us human. My September resolution will be to not only grow professionally, but to continue nurturing the friendships I was blessed to find. Sounds like school is in session for me too. 

Read one book at a time.

The first 20 years or so of our lives are broken into digestible chunks. Infancy and toddler years are hard to recall exactly, but I know there was structure. Square meals and a sleeping regiment. Little other than eating, bathing, and sleeping to occupy the days. But it was glorious I bet. When napping was compulsory and everything was new. No need to pretend we were seeing things for the first time, because we actually were.

Elementary, middle, and high school all followed in line. Years spent here and there, but always towards a common goal. College, a career, or both simultaneously.  College was a whirlwind, but by far my favorite learning environment; I am not exactly itching to go back to high school anytime soon. Remarkable opportunities at our fingertips. (Steep tuition probably made that possible.) Learning for the  sake of learning, and musing about what might be if we strive.

Beckon adulthood. The great open-ended, and ideally long chapter. Newfound responsibilities and the uncertainty of it all. It's rather easy to get overwhelmed when I think about all the moving pieces. Things to do and see. People to connect and in some cases reconnect with. Skills to learn, because the stalled economy is not going to beat down my door for being mediocre. Money to save? Someday soon, hopefully.

A friend of the family told me a helpful tidbit that has stuck with me for some time now. So simple, but so perfect.

"You're carrying too many books! Your stack will be too heavy to manage. Read one book at a time." 

Challenges will come, and victories too. But they should be managed as they unfold, not before. I am the Queen of worrying about something before it comes (if it ever does) so in essence I am expending valuable energy on something that may never come to be. It is important to stay present in the moment. I have to train myself to do just that, but it is a worthy undertaking. Take one book off the pile at a time, and chip away.

Garage of Plenty

"People usually consider walking on water or in thin air a miracle.  But I think the real miracle is not to walk either on water or in thin air, but to walk on earth.  Every day we are engaged in a miracle which we don't even recognize:  a blue sky, white clouds, green leaves, the black, curious eyes of a child - our own two eyes.  All is a miracle."  -Thich Nhat Hanh

This is one of those quotes that really resonates with me. If you hadn't figured it out already, I love quotes. I make it my business to look for a good one every so often to bring my thoughts into focus; make them more easy to digest. If you pay any attention to the media, you will see the extremes of materialism. People with little to nothing, living in poverty. And others living with such excess, that it borders ludicrous. I am thankful to fall somewhere in the middle. Comfortable enough to check off the vitals on Maslow's hierarchy of needs, and living humbly enough to keep me hungry...determined. 

I moved back to my home state, after a two year stint in the Nation's capital. Although DC was a remarkable city, I never had space to myself beyond the walls of my studio, and eventual one bedroom pad. No grass, or deck to call my own. Since coming home, I have stumbled on a unique gem- an old garage, in dire need of some TLC.

Living in the home that my dad grew up in, it is a fixer upper to say the least. Some new paint on the walls, updated fixtures, and a nice new plush carpet have done the trick thus far. Every day, I see more potential in this old house, thankfully. It was filled with a lot of love over the years; it still is. We work to make sure of that. To complement the tangible warmth my grandparents left behind, we are bringing the physical space into modern times.  I get to flex my DIY chops in the main house, but the garage fell into someone else's able hands. Enter James. 

I met James, while working at Filomena's in Georgetown. I was just looking for some part time money, and ended up finding a whole lot more; I found a partner. Fast forward a little over two years, some bad jobs, and a few different apartments and James is still along for the ride. It was always apparent to me that James was a special person, able to find joy in the small things- a nice meal, a good hike, some fresh air, or a last minute day trip. Of late though, I have noticed his potential to create joy for others too, in the unlikeliest of locations.

Nonny and Homer, my late grandparents on dad's side, were very simple. They used the garage to house their two cars, and little else. As they aged, and stopped driving, the garage atrophied because it really served no purpose any longer. Well, it is back and I hope they are smiling down on the shenanigans we have unleashed. 

James is a whiz at finding fixer-upper projects. I thought I was crafty until I saw just how resourceful he is. He assumed the kitchen throne and now the crafting throne too; alas I will have to find my worth elsewhere. I am ok with this, as long as he shares the fruits of his labor. Thankfully, he always does. 

James began by gutting the garage and simply cleaning. Then slowly but surely, he began to populate what we now refer to as the cave with new pieces. First came a vintage bar he refurbished. Next came the dart board, table and chairs, and the popcorn machine. Thanks to my dearest cousin and confidant, Patty, and her darling husband, we now have a margarita machine and some lovely signage.   Some vintage sports memorabilia, serious snacks, sound system, and a few bar stools legitimize its man cave status.

More importantly though, more than the "things" inside the garage, are the memories that have since taken root. Family and friends gathering to share a meal, play some darts, listen to music (country music typically to appease James), and just laugh. My papa is 85 years old, and has found a new hobby in darts. Never too old to discover new sources of merriment, I say. We definitely eat our fill. James makes some mean dishes on his charcoal grill, the smell of smoke never quite leaving our clothes. It's a fine smell, though.  I don't mind. 

Some nights we will simply play a game or two of Cricket. Other nights we watch the rain fall. The common denominator, though, is that delicate comfort that settles in when you are with people you love. Little else is needed to make my picture any more whole. Would extravagant amenities be nice? Fine dining. The whole shebang. Sure. Few people would argue that. But I don't think more "things" would make us any happier. Just some folks sitting back, eating, drinking... laughing. In the garage of all places. My garage of plenty.