Last night, I was at the grocery store when the cute, little boy behind the checkout counter looked up at me and said, "I like your hair. It is really cool for a mom."
I smiled. I own one of these teenagers, and I was relieved to discover that the entire species hands out compliments with a twist. Nonetheless, I still smiled because I was flattered he noticed my "cool" hair.
I am a mom. A mom I will always be. In a society where youth is valued this can be a challenging transition for women who tend to be valued first for their appearance...particularly in youth, so the reality of fine lines and gray hair send us shuttling to a solution (like flashy hair colors), so we can hang onto our value a bit longer.
The reality is we are valuable as mothers, very valuable...far more valuable than youth. Ask any child who has lost a mother.
Age gracefully. I would sometimes hear that as a child, and I was never sure exactly what that meant. Now I understand. I want to wear my age as one does a favorite pair of shoes. To slip into the years ahead with grace and style...to be comfortable in my journey and within myself.
As a final aside, last year my oldest daughter reached my height with blonde hair that was kissed by the sun from swimming, bronzed skin, and the clothes...which can only be worn by youth. But she was still my little girl. Until one day when the waiter that was lingering at our table to ensure everything was perfect triggered my mother radar, and suddenly epiphany dawned...my daughter was attracting attention. The beauty of youth worn by another generation.
I have another daughter who is also growing up quickly, and in the meantime, I will enjoy my youngest daughter's childhood. Though I hope they will age gracefully and confidently.
I am a mom. I can show them how it is done.
Sunday, April 11, 2010
Saturday, April 10, 2010
Explosive
As the phone picked up and I heard the familiar West Virginian drawl on the other end, I felt the relief flood my heart. Mining is a small world. Our friends are everywhere. The explosion on Monday made me pause on many different levels. The stories of the victims make my heart ache. I feel a strong link to the widows and children. It is not the first mining tragedy I have experienced since I became a miner's wife. Someday I would love to write a story about the early struggles in the mining industry as a tribute to all those who have lost a loved one.
Though the criticism of the people who work in mining hurt even more. I heard mumblings about the miners knowing the risk and their need to learn to work safe. Of course, on the most basic level, the desire to provide shelter, food, and clothing for one's family wasn't mentioned.
I was angry for days. I felt hurt that the people who utilize the power of electricity to view the atrocity failed to comprehend the link to coal, much less consider how they too contributed to the atrocity through their consumerism. I feel the tendency to criticize from afar is so easy but equally detrimental to a country already struggling to unite. I love our diversity, but respect for each other must exist or that diversity will destroy the core of our freedom. It is easy to forget that coal generates a significant amount of power in the United States. Power runs our country on every level. It should not be taken for granted or viewed with ingratitude. The irony that the stories are produced on computers that depend on electricity doesn't even comfort me.
Secondly, every miner does indeed know the risk. I know the risk well. I also know that our soldiers know the risk, and they embrace it for their country. I know our policeman and rescue professionals also encounter risk daily. Many folks throughout America know the danger of their occupations. Many folks embrace their jobs with heart and love of people.
I also know that opportunities are limited in coal country. I know many folks live in poverty. Real poverty. It is easy to tell folks to do something different, but when the discrimination in America rears its ugly head it isn't so easy. In a country where we value white collar workers (which tears at the very principle of equality that this country was founded on), it is easy to forget the intelligence that must exist within the blue collar class. There is no room for error. A wrong move in mining can't be fixed. All workers must be fully engaged and aware at all times. They can't ignore a phone call and go to lunch. They can't lose a deal and shrug it off and find another one. They can't ignore an incompetent co-worker, as he threatens their very existence. Teamwork is essential. This capacity to work with others at this level forges a trust and camaraderie that creates a impressive bond that transcends personal differences. It is hard work and it requires far more intelligence than most folks care to even understand. Their English may or may not be articulate or grammatically correct, but they have skills that are vital to their survival and to the operations of America. They also have a lot of heart.
The compassion that links the human spirit is lost when folks lash out in judgement rather than reach out in love for other human beings. Why is it so difficult to show kindness? I cannot help but wonder if their mothers told them to think before they talk...and if you can't find anything nice to say don't say anything at all...
Of course, this precludes intellectual discussions that are helpful in reducing the risk in the future. Aristotle recognized the importance of rhetoric as a means to seek truth which is vastly different than hurtful speculation. As a country we need to embrace the truth from all viewpoints, and we NEED to listen to each other and balance our emotions with our intellect. It is a difficult balance but essential to our future.
May each family that is struggling to navigate the rawness of their loss of a loved one in the recent explosion know that my heartfelt prayers extend to you each day. May you find the courage to face the future with love and compassion. The legacy of your loved one will not be forgotten.
Hopefully someday the true interdependence of the people of America will be fully recognized and appreciated...equally.
Though the criticism of the people who work in mining hurt even more. I heard mumblings about the miners knowing the risk and their need to learn to work safe. Of course, on the most basic level, the desire to provide shelter, food, and clothing for one's family wasn't mentioned.
I was angry for days. I felt hurt that the people who utilize the power of electricity to view the atrocity failed to comprehend the link to coal, much less consider how they too contributed to the atrocity through their consumerism. I feel the tendency to criticize from afar is so easy but equally detrimental to a country already struggling to unite. I love our diversity, but respect for each other must exist or that diversity will destroy the core of our freedom. It is easy to forget that coal generates a significant amount of power in the United States. Power runs our country on every level. It should not be taken for granted or viewed with ingratitude. The irony that the stories are produced on computers that depend on electricity doesn't even comfort me.
Secondly, every miner does indeed know the risk. I know the risk well. I also know that our soldiers know the risk, and they embrace it for their country. I know our policeman and rescue professionals also encounter risk daily. Many folks throughout America know the danger of their occupations. Many folks embrace their jobs with heart and love of people.
I also know that opportunities are limited in coal country. I know many folks live in poverty. Real poverty. It is easy to tell folks to do something different, but when the discrimination in America rears its ugly head it isn't so easy. In a country where we value white collar workers (which tears at the very principle of equality that this country was founded on), it is easy to forget the intelligence that must exist within the blue collar class. There is no room for error. A wrong move in mining can't be fixed. All workers must be fully engaged and aware at all times. They can't ignore a phone call and go to lunch. They can't lose a deal and shrug it off and find another one. They can't ignore an incompetent co-worker, as he threatens their very existence. Teamwork is essential. This capacity to work with others at this level forges a trust and camaraderie that creates a impressive bond that transcends personal differences. It is hard work and it requires far more intelligence than most folks care to even understand. Their English may or may not be articulate or grammatically correct, but they have skills that are vital to their survival and to the operations of America. They also have a lot of heart.
The compassion that links the human spirit is lost when folks lash out in judgement rather than reach out in love for other human beings. Why is it so difficult to show kindness? I cannot help but wonder if their mothers told them to think before they talk...and if you can't find anything nice to say don't say anything at all...
Of course, this precludes intellectual discussions that are helpful in reducing the risk in the future. Aristotle recognized the importance of rhetoric as a means to seek truth which is vastly different than hurtful speculation. As a country we need to embrace the truth from all viewpoints, and we NEED to listen to each other and balance our emotions with our intellect. It is a difficult balance but essential to our future.
May each family that is struggling to navigate the rawness of their loss of a loved one in the recent explosion know that my heartfelt prayers extend to you each day. May you find the courage to face the future with love and compassion. The legacy of your loved one will not be forgotten.
Hopefully someday the true interdependence of the people of America will be fully recognized and appreciated...equally.
Thursday, April 8, 2010
Spice
First I mowed the yard before the rain came this morning. Then I went to visit my favorite hairdresser.
As you can see, I opted out of the silver and into more spice! Kade thought I needed to comb my hair when he came home. Chayse told me she loved my new hair because it has peaches in it!? Kiahra proclaimed that I went platinum...I am sure she is referring to the quality of my parenting...a platinum quality mom :) Nikela decided I was off a season or two...she informed me it was spring, not autumn.
Sheesh!
Well, at least I have one lover. For my audience, I apologize for yet another photo of me, but my hubby wanted a glimpse of my new hairdo. Just a little airbrush to enhance it would have been helpful, but it is beyond my capabilities, so you get the "real" thing!
Wednesday, April 7, 2010
Final Glimpse
Our last day arrived...after spending an evening rocking on the front porch with Kristi and Kevin. We arose to the kids today. Finally we headed out to the Smoky Mountains. We missed the visitor's center...no thanks to the GPS, so we just kept driving. Several miles down the road later we pulled over at the quietest pullout. After several cheesy photos we moved on down the road...
...to Mingus Mill. We were becoming more adept at noticing the signs in our blind tour of the Smokies. It was an old mill that the forest service had put back into operation. Of course, I needed a bag of corn meal to go with my new cookbook, so I can explore all those Southern style recipes properly!
The flume to the mill was irresistible.
The mill window...
However, as I was checking out the mill I saw a gentleman in faded blue bib overalls eating his lunch quietly in the corner by the potbelly stove, so I smiled and said hello. He responded politely, his eyes twinkling and the soft creases in his face emulated warmth, so I pursued a conversation. Then I asked him which waterfall in the park was the best, and he told me it was a falls that wasn't in the park, but if we went five miles down the road and turned left and kept an eye open for the KOA we would find it. A few stairs would take us to the top of Mingo Falls. He also told us that the mountain farm down the road was worth the stop. His easy-going, friendly manner told me he was better than all the maps of the park :)
The mountain farm was fun to explore. Some of the building were original to the site, and others had been moved from various places in the park or nearby mountains.
From the corn husk broom
to the humble hearth
and not to forget the meat house
or the apple house.
Though my personal favorite was the cooling house where they used ingenuity to divert a little of the clear mountain stream through a hollowed out log to cool the perishable food items such as eggs and milk. Equally utilitarian were the birdhouses.
A glimpse of early American life makes me more grateful...though I love the front porches.
Off to the falls we cruised, only to discover we had driven through the Smoky Mountains and had arrived in Cherokee, North Carolina! The short distance caught us by surprise! After all 35 miles only brings you to the foot of the mountains in Big Timber...though in all fairness, the Smoky Mountains are more like hills in our world :) Nonetheless, we found the falls.
Thus ends my photo tour, as my battery died. Equally frustrating, though, was our trip back through the park which required lots of patience as the traffic was backed up for miles.
However, we eventually made it back to our cabin with all the modern conveniences and enjoy perfectly grilled steaks compliments of Kevin. The kids were delighted by the fire later in the evening where smores were created! The quiet mountain setting with family was the best part of the day before tired, sticky, grimy kids called it a day...or should I say parents??
...to Mingus Mill. We were becoming more adept at noticing the signs in our blind tour of the Smokies. It was an old mill that the forest service had put back into operation. Of course, I needed a bag of corn meal to go with my new cookbook, so I can explore all those Southern style recipes properly!
The flume to the mill was irresistible.
The mill window...
However, as I was checking out the mill I saw a gentleman in faded blue bib overalls eating his lunch quietly in the corner by the potbelly stove, so I smiled and said hello. He responded politely, his eyes twinkling and the soft creases in his face emulated warmth, so I pursued a conversation. Then I asked him which waterfall in the park was the best, and he told me it was a falls that wasn't in the park, but if we went five miles down the road and turned left and kept an eye open for the KOA we would find it. A few stairs would take us to the top of Mingo Falls. He also told us that the mountain farm down the road was worth the stop. His easy-going, friendly manner told me he was better than all the maps of the park :)
The mountain farm was fun to explore. Some of the building were original to the site, and others had been moved from various places in the park or nearby mountains.
From the corn husk broom
to the humble hearth
and not to forget the meat house
or the apple house.
Though my personal favorite was the cooling house where they used ingenuity to divert a little of the clear mountain stream through a hollowed out log to cool the perishable food items such as eggs and milk. Equally utilitarian were the birdhouses.
A glimpse of early American life makes me more grateful...though I love the front porches.
Off to the falls we cruised, only to discover we had driven through the Smoky Mountains and had arrived in Cherokee, North Carolina! The short distance caught us by surprise! After all 35 miles only brings you to the foot of the mountains in Big Timber...though in all fairness, the Smoky Mountains are more like hills in our world :) Nonetheless, we found the falls.
Thus ends my photo tour, as my battery died. Equally frustrating, though, was our trip back through the park which required lots of patience as the traffic was backed up for miles.
However, we eventually made it back to our cabin with all the modern conveniences and enjoy perfectly grilled steaks compliments of Kevin. The kids were delighted by the fire later in the evening where smores were created! The quiet mountain setting with family was the best part of the day before tired, sticky, grimy kids called it a day...or should I say parents??
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Monday, April 5, 2010
Day 2
Up and at 'em...early. I made a quick breakfast, and we headed out to use our Dollywood tickets for the second day. With map in hand, we studied the layout and decided we wanted to try Adventure Mountain first since the line was overwhelming yesterday. It is a new addition to the park that requires harnesses tied off to a pulley overhead that enables one to navigate an obstacle course that includes a variety of challenges. I opted to take photos with both feet soundly on the ground, convenient, right?
Anyway, it was fun to watch. Though I had to be vigilant or I would lose sight of my gang quickly. Check out Chayse's reluctant wave and grimace...though I think it may have been for my benefit! Nonetheless it was adventure!
A river boat armed with water guns...
met its match on deck!
As the temperatures climbed to 85, we sought out cooler parts of the park. A video of Dolly's life that she narrated and showed the moods of the Smoky Mountains including the thunder and rain...at which point it rained on us!! Chayse wasn't too impressed.
A Southern gospel concert. A replica of an old mill that was working held a delightful surprise downstairs where they made delicious goodies with the fresh ground flour. The cinnamon bread was spectacular, utterly divine, and I even managed to save some for my sister! More rides.
As we headed out of the park, I became distracted by Dolly's museum. I was amazed at how small she really is as I gazed at the outfits she has worn through the years. She loves flamboyance and sparkle! Not to mention those heels she wears...they are tiny too! My favorite things were the notes and songs she had written on slips of paper through the years. She writes everyday. As I read the love note to her husband from years ago I smiled, and as I gazed at her scribbles for Coat of Many Colors I realized a great song emerged on the back of a couple pieces of paper from a small notepad. Stories to be shared. The emotions that link the hearts of people.
Earlier we had explored the little two room cabin that was a replica of her childhood home. Her mother had decorated it when the park opened. Humble. A table that didn't even allow 12 children to gather around, instead the youngest would stand on the bench behind and eat their meals. I am not sure where they slept. It is easy to think it would be completely unmanageable to live as they did...that it would be miserable and hard. Instead, Dolly carries very fond memories of her childhood with a home filled with love. A love that not everyone carries in their hearts. As we squeeze in all the "necessities" in our lifestyles, we struggle to make room for the love...perhaps forgetting that love doesn't grow in material goods. Love blossoms in our hearts when we pause to enjoy the moments that bubble up throughout the days and nights with our loved ones. It is the ordinary moments that bring a special smile and quick hug that fertilize the heart.
Anyway, it was fun to watch. Though I had to be vigilant or I would lose sight of my gang quickly. Check out Chayse's reluctant wave and grimace...though I think it may have been for my benefit! Nonetheless it was adventure!
A river boat armed with water guns...
met its match on deck!
As the temperatures climbed to 85, we sought out cooler parts of the park. A video of Dolly's life that she narrated and showed the moods of the Smoky Mountains including the thunder and rain...at which point it rained on us!! Chayse wasn't too impressed.
A Southern gospel concert. A replica of an old mill that was working held a delightful surprise downstairs where they made delicious goodies with the fresh ground flour. The cinnamon bread was spectacular, utterly divine, and I even managed to save some for my sister! More rides.
As we headed out of the park, I became distracted by Dolly's museum. I was amazed at how small she really is as I gazed at the outfits she has worn through the years. She loves flamboyance and sparkle! Not to mention those heels she wears...they are tiny too! My favorite things were the notes and songs she had written on slips of paper through the years. She writes everyday. As I read the love note to her husband from years ago I smiled, and as I gazed at her scribbles for Coat of Many Colors I realized a great song emerged on the back of a couple pieces of paper from a small notepad. Stories to be shared. The emotions that link the hearts of people.
Earlier we had explored the little two room cabin that was a replica of her childhood home. Her mother had decorated it when the park opened. Humble. A table that didn't even allow 12 children to gather around, instead the youngest would stand on the bench behind and eat their meals. I am not sure where they slept. It is easy to think it would be completely unmanageable to live as they did...that it would be miserable and hard. Instead, Dolly carries very fond memories of her childhood with a home filled with love. A love that not everyone carries in their hearts. As we squeeze in all the "necessities" in our lifestyles, we struggle to make room for the love...perhaps forgetting that love doesn't grow in material goods. Love blossoms in our hearts when we pause to enjoy the moments that bubble up throughout the days and nights with our loved ones. It is the ordinary moments that bring a special smile and quick hug that fertilize the heart.
Vacation--Day 1
6 AM Departure--We manage to escape the morning traffic.
The Yukon was quiet as kids nestled into their blankets and pillows and slowly dawn arrived, as we rolled through the hills of West Virginia.
4 hours later--Emergency bathroom stop. Gas. Food. We shuffled into a nearby restaurant to be greeted by the delightful West Virginian drawl. The kids grinned as they listened to her.
Back on the road, we were in Virginia shortly...and eventually we hit the Tennessee line--which we celebrated! However, the closer we were to our destination, the slower we went. The traffic in Sevierville was the slowest as we crawled through miles of tourist traps that made me nervous about my amusement park choice. Though finally, we reached the Dollywood parking lot at 3:30 PM.
As the kids baled out, we were greeted by warm sunshine. We caught the next tram and were at the entrance faster than any city street we had just travelled. Relief flooded me when I looked out at the park, as it appeared to be tastefully designed. Though as we gazed at the map, we realized just how large the park really was! Finally, we just headed down a trail and soon arrived at the first roller coaster. It was a wooden roller coaster, and the kids quickly darted into line with Ron. Chayse and I walked down the path a few feet to uncover a playland for younger kids.
Ride over--no words necessary.
The next ride, all the kids could participate...though one wasn't so sure.
Many adventuresome rides later, the final, wet ride of the night zipped down the last hill.
Strange, I know, but where is the love in this very wet hug??
As the crowds thinned, we double checked what time the park closed, as there were no announcements or ushers pushing folks to the entrance. Yes, the park would be closing soon...no there were no announcements, folks would just meander to the entrance. I smiled and decided it must be a Southern approach.
Just as slowly as we arrived, we headed out to find our cabin, Critter's Cove. We slowly navigated up the winding mountainside as I read the detailed map. Dusk was falling, and we were relieved to find chair on the front porch in the warm evening air.
The Yukon was quiet as kids nestled into their blankets and pillows and slowly dawn arrived, as we rolled through the hills of West Virginia.
4 hours later--Emergency bathroom stop. Gas. Food. We shuffled into a nearby restaurant to be greeted by the delightful West Virginian drawl. The kids grinned as they listened to her.
Back on the road, we were in Virginia shortly...and eventually we hit the Tennessee line--which we celebrated! However, the closer we were to our destination, the slower we went. The traffic in Sevierville was the slowest as we crawled through miles of tourist traps that made me nervous about my amusement park choice. Though finally, we reached the Dollywood parking lot at 3:30 PM.
As the kids baled out, we were greeted by warm sunshine. We caught the next tram and were at the entrance faster than any city street we had just travelled. Relief flooded me when I looked out at the park, as it appeared to be tastefully designed. Though as we gazed at the map, we realized just how large the park really was! Finally, we just headed down a trail and soon arrived at the first roller coaster. It was a wooden roller coaster, and the kids quickly darted into line with Ron. Chayse and I walked down the path a few feet to uncover a playland for younger kids.
Ride over--no words necessary.
The next ride, all the kids could participate...though one wasn't so sure.
Many adventuresome rides later, the final, wet ride of the night zipped down the last hill.
Strange, I know, but where is the love in this very wet hug??
As the crowds thinned, we double checked what time the park closed, as there were no announcements or ushers pushing folks to the entrance. Yes, the park would be closing soon...no there were no announcements, folks would just meander to the entrance. I smiled and decided it must be a Southern approach.
Just as slowly as we arrived, we headed out to find our cabin, Critter's Cove. We slowly navigated up the winding mountainside as I read the detailed map. Dusk was falling, and we were relieved to find chair on the front porch in the warm evening air.
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