Romans 13:8 (AMPC) - Keep out of debt and
owe no man anything, except to love one another; for he who loves his
neighbor [who practices loving others] has fulfilled the Law [relating
to one’s fellowmen, meeting all its requirements].
Behold(en) - having a duty to someone in return for help or a service.
What is the balance between truly asking for help and making oneself beholden to someone? My recent trip home and all the missteps that went with it left a trail of either my feeling sorrow and embarrassment over, or people being angry with me for asking for help. So maybe there is not balance; someone is going to be hurt either way.
Just a side note: I'd like to thank the Avis company for their part in trying to ruin my vacation with their ridiculous rules that marginalize those of us who are actually wise with money and don't borrow for every little thing we do. Your bougie efforts caused a lot of consternation among my friends and family and made my rare visit home way more stressful than it needed to be. In return, I have ceased receiving you e-mails, recommending you to friends, plus you've earned a permanent spot on my dookie list (right under Enterprise for the same reason).
Anyway...
As fun as it was to go home, visit with people, go to the Marching Southerners' reunion, and participate at both of my home churches, I came home with the dreadful feeling that I may never be able go back. Call it pride or self-preservation, but if I have to go home begging, annoying people to the point that they lie to me, or pissing off people, I'll stay in Colorado and leave everyone alone. In my Hodgepodge post this week, I talked about all the grief I was experiencing. This mess didn't help it any.
-----------------------------
In case you missed it:
* My last Five Minute Friday post "Purpose" v. 2.0 is here. * My last Wednesday Hodgepodge post, "Just a Little Trim," is here. * My last Simple Woman's Daybook post "A Buggy Full of Lemons," is here. * My latest 2021 Flip and Sip Reading Challenge review of Love Does is here. * My latest Auntie's Workshop post "Finishing and Fixing III" is here.
What's something in your house you'd like to get rid of but can't?
The only thing I would get rid of in my apartment is the clothes dryer on our side of the complex. It needs to be replaced. I've called the repair people twice and told them that the heating element is going out on it. However, they keep saying there's nothing wrong with it. If a dryer won't get 3 towels and some wash cloths dry in 45 minutes, there's something wrong with it. I end up using the dryer in the adjoining breezeway in our building, which in itself is a minor inconvenience, but in principle irks the stew out of me. I'm really surprised no else has complained.
When is the last time you experienced a sense of nostalgia? Elaborate.
#BlowSoutherners
This spring after the tornado struck my hometown. One of the most beautiful tributes to our town was from the Spirit of Atlanta drum corp. The link to the video is here. "Salvation is Created" is one of the Marching Southerners' standards, so it was more than a fitting tribute. I was nostalgic and homesick all at the same time as I sat in front of my computer at work and cried (good thing my cubicle is in the back corner of our floor). I still miss home and I still tear up every time I hear it.
You're only allowed three apps on your smart phone or tablet...which three do you keep?
Assuming the standard apps that make the phone a phone (calling and texting) are not included in this question, I shall proceed.
Google maps - Helps me get where I'm going when I don't know where I'm going.
Music Player - I don't go anywhere without a soundtrack.
Camera - Right now, my phone's camera is the only means of keeping a photographic record of my adventures.
July 11th is National Blueberry Muffin Day. Who knew? Do you like blueberry muffins? If you were going to have a muffin would blueberry be your choice? What's the last thing you baked?
Blueberry muffins are a take it or leave it muffin for me. If I were going to have a muffin, I'd prefer a banana nut muffin. The last sweet treat I baked was peanut butter cookies. The last savory treat I baked was a frozen pizza.
What's the biggest way you've changed since you were a child? In what way are you still the same?
As a child I was very timid and so scared of people that it bordered on xenophobia. Today, that's not me. In fact, I love meeting new people and attempting to make new friends. However, in too many ways, I'm still too much like my old self. I talk in my latest book review here about how I'm trying to change that.
Insert your own random thought here.
I think I've got another song to add to my list of life songs:
What's a word that describes your life? A word you wish described your life?
The word stagnant comes to mind to describe my present life. I know, whaah, whaah. But, try to understand. When my life was stagnant before, there was no hope of it being any different. Now, I see so many missed opportunities--places to go, people to meet, activities in which to participate. Having no car for more than 3 months is a pain in the...well you get the idea.
The word I wish described my life? Thriving. Again, I wish I weren't the poster child for how not to live your life.
Back in my day _____________________?
Music didn't sound like it was "written by an appliance" as Greg Proops would say.
Parents said "no" to their children and meant it. We didn't die from hearing it.
I was the TV remote.
Eating at the table as a family was part of everyday life...not a special occasion (unless it was Christmas, Thanksgiving or Easter of course).
Kids old enough to know better than to eat soap didn't eat soap. Or, if they did, their parents didn't blame the soap company; they blamed their goofy son/daughter.
When it comes to takeout are you more likely to opt for Italian, Mexican, or Chinese food? Does a typical week at your house include takeout?
A typical week does not include takeout (thank you, Dave Ramsey). On the rare occasion I do opt for takeout, it's Mexican food from Chipotle although Asian food from Tokyo Joe's runs a close second. Hey, they're within walking distance of work.
Think about the people you most respect. What is it about them that earned your respect?
They admit when they are wrong.
They command respect rather than demand it.
Even if they are in authority, they still treat others with equal respect.
I respect those who are more talented and prosperous than I. That is, if they aren't butts about it.
If anyone has higher rank than I do, their rank is respected. Best not disrespect someone who has the power to make major decisions about my life.
What's something your friends might see and say is 'so you'?
No, I'm not going to play the White and Nerdy video again...but I could.
You know, I really don't know how to answer that. In my present environment, anything remotely Southern would be "me" I guess.
Back in 2013, I blogged about my time with the Jacksonville State University Marching Southerners, my college marching band. I'll not rehash the sordid details here (that's what the link is for), but I did end the post by saying that I wanted emotional closure.
I think I found it on November 21, 2015.
Like every alumnus, I get a yearly invitation to our reunion. Each time I'd plan to go, turn chicken (no pun intended), and find a reason not to go. This time, I felt I was mentally ready and sent in my RSVP without hesitation.
Note: I said mentally ready. I wasn't sure I was physically ready. Now, mind you, this isn't a sit around, drink beer, and reminisce kind of reunion...well, maybe they do that at the Friday night dinner, but I wasn't around for that (I am on a budget, you know). No, we're there to play during halftime. I had to be prepared to play anything from triangle to bass drum. Well, I WAS lighter than my college weight, so why not?
Parking was an issue when I got there Saturday morning. There was a price for the closest spaces, plus I found out later if you left and came back, you'd be charged again, plus you may not get your spot back. So, I did what any cheapskate would do, I parked at the Library for free and walked across campus. That proved to be a good decision. As I traversed the Quad and got closer to the sound of the current members warming up, any fear I may have had gave way to absolute giddy excitement.
Upon arrival at Burgess-Snow Field, I was met by the group from the Grey Drummers--alumni from the percussion section. They meet during the year to play. They welcomed me as an equal and handed me a set of 18 inch cymbals to play. Hot diggidy, it's on now!
Practice went well. Halftime went even better. Not only did we play the Southerners standards, but performed one of my all time favorites, Spirit of the Bull, with the current band. By the time we were done, I thought my arms were going to fall off, but I was ecstatic. I can't wait the 2016 reunion.
Why hadn't I done this before?
For starters because I hadn't dealt with my bad memories. In fact, I had suppressed them for nearly two decades. Then, there's the whole "I gotta lose X-amount of pounds so I can feel worthy to come back." You know what? I wasn't at my goal weight and I didn't care! If "Mr. Coordinator" who body shamed me was there, I never noticed, and I wasn't looking for him either. I was having too much fun crashing plates. If he had made his presence known to me, I wouldn't have hesitated to show him genuine fellowship and courtesy.
If the Son therefore shall make you free, ye shall be free indeed. - John 8:36
I thank God for freeing me from the pain, helping me find equality, and renewing a long stifled joy.
Have you ever had to wear a uniform? If yes, tell us more. Did you love it or hate it?
I've worn uniform shirts for several jobs. I didn't have a problem with it. The toughest uniform I've worn was the costume for my stint as an Easter Bunny at the Quintard Mall. Fun job, but that garb was hot and itchy. The uniforms I most enjoyed wearing were my band uniforms.
On the left is my uniform from high school marching band. Unfortunately, I do not have any photographs of myself in my Marching Southerners uniform. Band uniforms are notorious for being hellishly hot, but I was so proud and honored to wear both.
April 22nd is Earth Day. What is one thing you do personally to be a good steward of planet Earth?
Earth Day really isn't my thing. However, I don't like litter and I clean up after myself. If it's practical for me to do so, I do reuse some items.
Brown rice, quinoa, or couscous...your healthy grain of choice? How often are one of the three on your menu at home? Given a choice between white rice, brown rice, wild rice, and fried rice which would you go for?
Brown rice. I don't know anything about quinoa or couscous, including how to prepare them. I like fried rice, but since my favorite Chinese restaurant is closed, I've not had any in a while.
In your opinion, who has the best job ever?
Anyone who is getting paid to do what they love rather than having to endure a job they hate to make ends meet, while getting low or no pay for doing what they really do best.
What's a situation in your life currently requiring patience?
It might be easier to answer which ones don't; there's less of them. The person I have the least amount of patience with is myself. So, I'll just leave it at that.
Do you live your life around days of the week? Explain.
If you mean doing certain things on certain days, I try to, but it's not always feasible.
In a nod to the A to Z challenge happening around town this month, what 'R word' best describes your April?
Restless.
Insert your own random thought here.
This weekend, I'm participating in my second YMCA Spring Run. I've got an affinity for the Y. It's the first fitness-type center I ever felt comfortable in. This is by no means a criticism of my beloved local community center, but I miss being part of the YMCA. "Why?" you may ask. Well...
Indoor pool and swim instructors. One of the fitness goals I have as part of the "honorable mentions" on my 101 in 1001 list is to do a sprint level triathlon. While my running and cycling are making progress, My swimming form is about as strong as a dying flounder. I'm going to need some lessons and be able to practice year round to even have a chance of successfully swimming 1/2 a mile.
Fitness classes - body sculpting, spinning, step aerobics, TRX, cardio kickboxing, and then some. Talk about the ultimate cross training. Oh yeah, they do have Zumba if you want to cry for 30 minutes.
My sister working out with me - I have a sister who doesn't live far from the Anniston YMCA and we had a blast working out together years ago. I miss it.
Fitness assessments by certified fitness instructors
No lunks, bullies or equipment hogs - You want to act like a doofus, go to Gold's Gym where it's full of lunks and douchebags. You'll fit right in. Just stay away from the YMCA; you will get culled and you should be.
So, when finances improve, I will most likely hold "dual citizenship" with the Community Center and the YMCA. That way, I'll get the best of everything.
Want to know what a "lunk" is? Here's some examples. Every gym has them, but Planet Fitness is the only one brave enough to call them out.
In looking through some old photos today, I find myself grateful for such wonderful memories.
This picture of Mr. Eddie West, God rest his soul, brings back my early days as a musician. Mr. Eddie taught me to play on that very bass guitar. I'll tell you that story sometime. We named it "Big Woody"--the heaviest bass I've ever seen. It was like an oak tree with strings, but I built my chops (and back muscles) on that beast.
1990: My first (and so far only) trip to the gulf. The Marching Southerners did an exhibition show in Fort Walton Beach, Florida. The trip was a whirlwind, but it was beautiful.
My Dad, ML Maddox. A good memory if him at Christmas time when we lived in Piedmont.
One of the first--if not THE first afghan I ever crocheted.
2006: My sister Ida's wedding. One of the best family celebrations we've ever had. Plus, I still brag on the fact that Ida made her own wedding dress.
Great memory from my teaching days. Love my Thunderbabies!
My sister is celebrating a birthday today. Happy Birthday little sis! What's one way you're like your siblings? If you don't have siblings how are you like your lifelong best friend or cousin?
None of us know a stranger. Some would call it nosey, but I call it a gift for making people feel comfortable enough to open up.
What's the first thing that comes to mind when you think of yourself at age eighteen?
Sculptor-actor-painter-dancer...if you could excel in one of these arts, which would you choose and why?
Well, I'm already a painter, so I'd like to be better at it. I'd like to take some formal design and painting classes. I'd like to figure out how to get exactly what's in my mind or in a photograph to come out right on canvas.
Second in line would be acting. I've not done any extensive acting and have had no lessons in it, but I'm interested in trying it. Comedy and improvisation would be my specialties most likely.
What's a scent that takes you back in time, and where does it take you?
Can't think of one. It may hit me later, but right now I can't think of any nostalgic smells.
November is for Peanut Butter Lovers (National Peanut Butter Lovers Month). Are you a lover or a hater? What's your favorite dish/recipe that calls for peanut butter?
I love peanut butter. It's one of my trigger foods, so I try to stay away from it now. My favorite recipe that calls for it is a very simple peanut butter pie. It will make you lick your eyebrows.
What do people thank you personally for most often?
Getting out their way, mostly.
What event this year are you most thankful for?
The Mardi Gras 5k in Oxford, Alabama. It was the first 5k I'd ever run. It made me realize that I'm capable of much more than I think I am.
Insert your own random thought here.
5ks and Marching Southerners...Amazing how those two things are predominantly on my mind this week. The Southerners reunion is this weekend and so is a 5k. I'm choosing the 5k.
The past is a foreign country: they do things differently there." - L.P Hartley, qtd by Craig Ferguson
Ever since I marched snare drum for Jacksonville High School and heard the Jacksonville State University Marching Southerners play for the first time, I've been in love. The rest of the drumline laughed at me when I said that I would go to JSU and march in the Southerners after high school graduation. I was so taken with the prospect that I gave a up a band scholarship from Alabama A&M. In 1990, I realized my dream of being in the Southerners. However, I was in the Pit (what they now call "Auxiliary Percussion"), which wasn't bad, but my parts was very limited. For several shows, I only had one note on a siren whistle, but I was just happy to be there.
In 1991, I planned to play again and even went through band camp and practices, but dropped out before the first game. Schoolwork, a band director (among others) who didn't know his butt from a hole in the ground, and other circumstances gave me pause. No blood, no foul.
During the spring semester of 1992, the colorguard coordinator (I will not reveal his name to protect the guilty) offered a class for anyone who wanted to learn to spin and eventually march in the fall. Heck yeah; let's do it! I took the class and did very well. I learned different spins and tosses. It was slow going at first and I did break a light in the practice room once, but I did eventually catch on and got up to doing 1 1/2 and double tosses. When spring session was over, Mr. Coordinator said that I had done well and that as long as I practiced during the summer to keep what I'd learned fresh, I should have no problem at tryouts during band camp. I practiced as much as I could, so, by the time band camp started, I was ready.
I did every spin I knew. Gave single, 1 1/2, and double tosses; moved, grooved, and dropped it like it was hot (well as hot as I could). I was chosen for the guard...as an alternate. An alternate is a fancy name for a gofer in a guard uniform. In other words, an alternate pays for the equipment and uniforms to make it LOOK like she's in the guard, but really isn't. There would be no spinning, no jazz runs, no nothing. I could very well understand many of the others in the class being chosen over me-- many were not beginners and could spin sabre and riffle. What I couldn't understand was why Mr. Coordinator chose little girls fresh out of high school who hadn't taken the class and DID NOT EVEN KNOW HOW TO SPIN. When he asked them to toss, they threw the flag in the air, ran away from it, and let it fall to the ground. Seriously? Yes, seriously!
When I confronted him about it, Mr. Coordinator's answer was that although my spins and tosses were on the mark, he didn't like how my body looked. Say what? It looked the same as it looked when I was taking the class, which wasn't a problem then. Yes, I was very large, but I knew what I was doing! Good grief!
OK, OK, I've been here before; having to fight my way into something. So, I thought, Go ahead, make me an alternate. I'll hang around and keep working at it, and keep showing you that I am good enough. You'll have no choice but to put me in. Nothing was going to stop me, until....
A few days later, we were sent to be fitted for our custom made uniforms. The way it worked was that the people making the uniforms worked as a team. One would measure and call out the measurements to the others who would trace out the construction for each individual's uniform. This seemed to work well, until they got to my measurements. My 29 inch inseam was no problem, it sounded normal. But they got to my 56 inch waist and lost their flippin' minds. The lady taking the measurements said, "Oh honey, I'll just write the rest of yours down and give it to them so you won't be embarrassed." Embarrassed? I was in the freakin' Marching Southerners! I had every reason to be proud that they even let me in the same room with them She took the measurements over to ones drawing it out. Let's just say the scene wasn't pretty. There was a lot of head scratching, cussing, and giving me the "go to the bad place" look. It shut down the whole operation. Then it hit me; the embarrassment wouldn't have just been on me, the guard and all of the Marching Southerners organization would be very embarrassed if I went through with this. It became painfully clear that Mr. Coordinator was right to be concerned. After we got back to campus, I went to the band office and resigned, I went back to my dorm room, flopped down on bed, and cried myself to sleep. I never attempted to be a part of the Southerners again, not even when I went to graduate school. In fact, until I got into recovery a few years ago and did some deep soul searching, I had completely blocked that whole period of time from my mind--like it never happened.
Over the years, there had been many opportunities for me to go to games, participate in reunions, and see the awesome halftime shows, but I couldn't do it. Too painful. The pain is not just in what happened, but why it happened and the fact that I gave up and never tried again. That's not me. Even after a situation is clearly dead, I'll keep plodding on hoping to resurrect it. This was so different, though. The other times I had to fight, it was because of things I couldn't change; I couldn't change my race or gender. I couldn't hide my eyesight problems. But this? This I could change, wanted to change, ached to change, but didn't.
I finally went to a Jacksonville State University game a week ago--their first home game. During the game, I was happy; we were winning. Halftime was absolute torture. Everything in my mind screamed Why? Why did you quit? Why didn't you fight? Why didn't you get ahold of your health and lose the weight? Why can't you ever be good enough? You could make yourself good enough if you just tried. See the girl in the front tossing a double? That should have been YOU 20 years ago! You're only 41; If you'd get your butt in gear, maybe... And on and on it went until I thought my head would explode. I wanted to run, cry, upchuck, and die all at the same time.
So, what do I do now? I'm not sure. Throughout my recovery, I've tried to let this go, to move on, to put stock in a bright future, and let the tormenting memories die, and this time, stay dead. But I have been unsuccessful. I believe that this is unfinished business for which I need to make amends to myself and to the Marching Southerners. I need closure. But how?
Outside my window … Stormy skies with the threat of
tornadoes.But on the up side, it’s 71
degrees.J
I am thinking... about spring.
I am thankful... for the miraculous in my life: the miracles that I can
see and the ones I don’t see manifested yet (but the ARE coming).
In the kitchen...if I can
muster up the energy to cook, salsa chicken.If not, popcorn.
I am wearing... jeans and a t-shirt.
I am creating... a painting. I said earlier that I wanted to do something
with roses.I’ve found the pattern for
what I want to do.
I am going... nowhere today.Not only am I not feeling well, but with the unpredictable weather, I
think it’s best to stay in today.
I am wondering... why a Civil War reenactment has to be politically
correct!In March, our city will be
honoring Civil War hero Maj. John Pelham (for whom the main road in our town is
named).There will be reenactments,
speeches, activities, and music.The community
band (of which I am a part of the percussion section) will be playing period
pieces during the festivities.Well, I
asked one of the band leaders if we could play “Dixie.”He became very uncomfortable and said that we
probably couldn’tbecause the event coordinators needed to
keep it politically correct.WTC?
Some facts you may need to understand:
I am black (African American for the PC crowd).
I am a former Jacksonville State University Marching
Southerner (WHUP TROY!) and the song “Dixie” is part of
our repertoire of “battle cry songs.”When we are winning, we play it.When we are losing, we play it to fire up the team and the fans to get
with it.I have never experienced this
song in any kind of racial context.
The only time anyone complained about the song was when
we played it at Alabama A&M (a predominantly black school).Don’t know if it was even the song they were
mad at, or the fact that we whupped them all over the field and made their band
look like a preschool rhythm band.J
The song IS a part of Civil War / Confederate history.
My point?If the
creators of this event want to keep it politically correct, why have it in the
first place?Why honor someone who fought
for the state’s rights to continue the institution of slavery (I know that it’s not the only reason, but still…)Why not just tear down all the Civil
War/Confederate monuments and historical markers and rename the main drag of our town “Neutral Road”
or “PC Avenue.”
I’ve been told by every history teacher I’ve had who was
worth his salt that we study history so that we don’t repeat the mistakes of
the past.So, I look at this event
as not only a fun time to play some music, but to remind me of what our part of
country used to be and hopefully will NEVER be again.In my mind, playing at this event will be a
testament to how much the South has changed; not how we are trying to stay the same.
I am reading... Still reading the book on prayer by Myles Monroe.
I am hoping... that this sinus ick will get gone.I’ve got stuff to do.
I am looking forward to... sharing at Meadowbrook Baptist’s Celebrate
Recovery next month and sharing at ours in March.
I am learning… that I can be my own worst enemy sometimes.
Around the house... dishes, if nothing else.
I am pondering...my
relationship with my Mom.
A
favorite quote for today..."When you see a big family, that's not a family that loves children.
They're just trying to get one that's right." – Sinbad, Comedian
One of my favorite things... the
Shirley Temple movie The Littlest Rebel.It’s on my wish list to own it again.
A
few plans for the rest of the week:getting to where I feel better.We’ll see after that.
A peek into my day...
(Yep, that how we do it. BLOW SOUTHERNERS!)
UPDATE: Our band did perform at the reenactment March 17, 2013. No, we still didn't play "Dixie" (just a hidden snippet of it). Yes, the speeches were boring and uncomfortable. However, the concert we played went very well. I'm glad I had the honor of playing. That is all.
