Eufaula, Alabama … History versus Progress?

Eufaula, Alabama.  Ever heard of this place?  If you have seen the movie Sweet Home Alabama, you have seen some of the historic homes of Eufaula.  It is a gem of a town located in southeast Alabama along the Chattahoochee River.  It has a picture perfect collection of immaculately restored historic homes.  These magnificent homes line a boulevard of  huge trees that provide shade and a sense of place in a magical setting.  That same boulevard is also a .08 mile stretch of U.S. Highway 431 on the flight path of the migratory vacationer headed to the beaches of the Florida Panhandle.

I just found out that the Alabama Department of Transportation (ALDOT) and the Governor of Alabama have decided that the migratory vacationer is far more important than 200 years of history and the current investments and lives of the folks that live on that .08 mile stretch.  Over serious local objection, the State is widening the road to allow for better traffic flow.

Apparently I have arrived to the party too late.  And I doubt a preservation planner that served the area in the early 1980’s has much sway anyway … but the activist in me can’t let it go without voicing my opinion.

Why is this project being fast tracked after years of study?  How deviously sneaky of the ALDOT to not involve federal dollars.  According to newspaper reports, the Governor supported maintaining the road as is, until after the election!  And isn’t it interesting that they are only spending state dollars on a U.S. Highway improvement?  You see, there are laws that serve to protect our historic resources if federal dollars are involved.   It is a cumbersome process to be sure, but it is a tool created in 1966, along with the National Register of Historic Places, to provide a measure of balance to the process of development.  But you, ALDOT, you have been around the block … you knew that … so you just bypassed it, made up your mind, and left the good people of Eufaula hanging.  I guess you are feeling pretty pleased with yourselves right about now.

In 1968, a lady named Helen Marie Taylor stood in front of a paving machine to stop it from covering the original pavers on  Monument Avenue in Richmond, Virginia.  It worked … and aren’t those of us who know Richmond thankful that it did.  The American Planning Association named Monument Avenue one of the 10 Great Streets in America in 2007.  We need you Helen Marie.  We need somebody BIG to make a stink … a big ole voice or voices to call this manipulation of the system out!

We need you stars of Sweet Home Alabama.  Where are you?  Would you lend a voice?  Katie Couric and her family have spoken up.  Thank you Katie!

Where are you National Trust for Historic Preservation?  I saw you listed on the law suit … but I haven’t heard you make a very loud ruckus.  How about you Randy Owen and the guys of “Alabama”?   Fort Payne may be a long way from Eufaula, but it is your State’s heritage we are talking about here.  Where are you Alabama Historical Commission?  Where are you Alabama Trust for Historic Preservation? Is there a Nature Conservancy Office in Alabama?  C’mon Lynyrd Skynyrd — you practically put Alabama on the map for my generation through your song “Sweet Home, Alabama.”  Even Kid Rock incorporated a touch of Alabama in his song about growing up in Northern Michigan.  Will anybody lend a voice to bring reason to this demolition of small town America?

I know the folks of Eufaula fought the battle … but where are the rest of y’all?   Maybe you are like me and didn’t get the Memo in time. Or maybe you are just touching your toe in the water to be politically correct in case things don’t fall out well?  Why didn’t you pick up the battle cry to save this lovely stretch of history and heritage tourism, not to mention the trees?  Why don’t you holler a little louder?  I haven’t heard about it in Virginia till now … you haven’t been loud enough Eufaula!

The signs for construction are going up on 1/5/15 according to the Ledger-Enquirer newspaper out of Columbus, GA.  The trees are about to be cut back.  The law suit has been withdrawn.  I hope somebody steps up.  Eufaula needs a hero … and they need one mighty quick.

Additional Info about this Issue:

Save North Eufaula Avenue Contact List:  http://www.savenortheufaulaave.com/Who_To_Contact.html

Katie Couric’s Letter:  http://www.al.com/opinion/index.ssf/2014/11/preserve_eufaulas_history_and.html

What if … What is …

What if I forget to unplug the iron?  What if I have a stroke?  What if I mess up my health insurance application?  What if I forget to wear my prosthetic boobie to the grocery store?  My brain is an endless whirl of countless disasters that could befall me at any moment.  I don’t think I am alone … and I think the litany of “what-ifs” grows during the Holiday Season, when we are all hoping everything comes together just like a Hallmark Channel movie.

This isn’t a new thing for me.  I was brought up by worry-ers, and I learned the craft well.  My talent for “what-iffing” every situation makes me pretty pragmatic and a bit obsessive/compulsive … which are not necessarily bad character traits to have … but they are a bit tedious.  I have worked to change my thought process through the years — but change on that level is mighty difficult.

I was in a conversation the other day with a friend — she was providing me some help on some doggie behavioral problems around here.  I told her I knew the problems generated from me — I had spent about 6 weeks in a mad dash to do some downsizing around the house, then a week with company, and after the company left, the problems started.  I didn’t know how to fix them.  Yep, she says, I am the center of the whirlpool that is my home, and if calmness can’t pervade, the problems will persist.  Thoughts need to shift, worry has to take a back seat because the dogs can pick up on that.  They are stressed that I am stressed — time for a change.

So I did what I always do, I pondered on that.  And I thought of all the “what-ifs”, and then I reflected on how tired I am … and then I thought, “what if” I just accept “what is”  — wouldn’t that just pull out a lot of stress.  If I just accepted what is and rolled along?  It would be a little like shape shifting, or even changing a paradigm.

I am finding calmness in this little rewording of my oft used mantra.  When I start to hyperventilate on a plethora of “what if’s” … I try to take a deep breath, think “Nancy, you can only deal with “what is” … and then I try to move forward from a place of calm.

I share this because I think a lot of us are out of whack during the Holidays.  We get so focused on our vision of how things “should” be, that we forget to just accept and enjoy “how they are.”  Do you know what I mean?  It is hard to get your hands around the concept, at least for me, but I am trying … and I am hoping it will bring a little peace and maybe a lot of calm!

 

A Daylily Dalliance …

NOTE:  I can’t seem to let the Daylilies go this year.  Don’t know what that is about, but I had to share the last pics of them for the season, so here goes …

Daylilies.  So ephemeral and yet so strong and beautiful.  Year after year, with no attention, with minimal protection, they flower forth and share their joie de vivre for a day.  I think that is why I love them.  They just keep showing us the cycle of life, the growth, the full blossom, the death and the rebirth. I didn’t always love them – they used to just be that orange thing that bloomed in the backyard at my Mom’s house.  But it seems they have played a role in my life.  30+ years ago I hosted a party with friends and we put daylilies in silver dishes on the tables.  It was then that I learned the reason for the name!  They were so beautiful that day, and the next, gone!

So here is my Mom’s traditional Orange Daylily…

And here is a double that came with my current house.

These are in Virginia from Kentucky by way of South Carolina, where they stayed for a while.

This is a more recent acquisition and I want to eat orange sherbert every time I look at it!

My photography may not be brilliant, but I caught this little guy visiting this cheerful flower.

It makes me wonder how the world can be so upside down when I see something like this.

All I want to think about when I see these flowers is peace. Why is it so hard?

Maybe our leaders need to take up gardening, or at least look around more …

and learn to play well with others!

Who knows what wonderful things might happen if everybody stopped to see the Daylilies.

 

 

Judgement versus Tolerance … a backyard musing …

Once the grass started growing this Spring, I started mowing and stopped writing.  I even stopped thinking for a while … but I’m back.  Pulling weeds on this most amazingly beautiful, cool  weekend seems to have jarred the ole thought process … so I started thinking … and then I started reflecting on a number of conversations I have had lately, conversations that seem pleasant enough on the surface, but leave me disturbed on reflection.  Those conversations have ranged from gossip riddled chats, to firing an employee an hour and a half after she started,  to serious reflections on trying to understand life, family and myself.

I have buried myself in my work and my yard as a way to cope, and the yard provided me some ideas.

This is my backyard, just after I mowed it. I am very proud of it. Last year it was completely out of control and I was drowning in underbrush.  That is Maggie, by the way … she is wondering what I am doing.

No matter how hard I try, this bed always gets away from me. It has a fine crop of Poison Ivy. Weeds thrive here … but what is a weed? It is something undesirable.  So if I accept the weeds, maybe they won’t seem so invasive.  Jackson is inspecting things here … he works really hard at keeping track of all the comings and goings.

In this garden, this volunteer Bee Balm might be considered a weed.

And yet look who stopped by to visit and enjoy it’s sweet gift of nectar.  (I really need a faster camera — this butterfly was so excited. she wouldn’t hold still for me!)

From a distance, my garden beds are a riot of weeds and color …

But when you stop to focus on any one thing … well, the flowers are just lovely.

Even the old varieties show a complexity and color that is awesome.

So do you see where I am going here?  It is easy to live only seeing the big picture.  It is so easy to criticize, to second guess, to shake your head.  What isn’t always easy is to step up and take a closer look.  To take the time to see past what we think we see, to what is really there.  Each of us holds good and bad.  Each of us bloom at certain times and go dormant at other times.  We are ever marching onward, some never moving a step, others on fast forward … all seeking something we may not even be able to identify.

What if we lay down our overcoat of judgement? What if we look past the weeds and the peeling paint of someone else’s weaknesses …

And focus on seeing the good things … close up and with empathy? What if we wrap ourselves in a sheer light shawl of tolerance and cut each other a break?

So let’s try it, OK?  Let’s shed that overcoat … that heavy brown wool overcoat of judgement … you know, that one that somehow comes out of the closet every time we get a chance to run somebody down.  Why do we do that?  So we feel better about ourselves?  I know I do it … but I am tired, and I am finding that I would rather be with my flowers and dogs, away from the temptation right now.  I would rather wrap myself in that lovely light woven shawl of tolerance, seeking that place where we are equal and can respect one another — or at the very least, co-exist in peace.

I’ll be sad when my daylilies are done for the season … but I am determined to hang on to their ephemeral beauty … a fragile and yet tenacious reminder of all that is good.

 

Memorial Day …

Memorial Day Weekend in Central Virginia was glorious … cool, clear … the colors just seemed brighter than normal.  I spent a lot of time enjoying my yard … and today I went up town to pick up some plants and couldn’t resist photographing our little Main Street.

So here is Small Town, USA at it’s finest!

This is my backyard garden.  It is inundated with weeds, but has this wonderful collection of peonies.

I love peonies.

My Mom always said they should bloom on Memorial Day.

And they did that just perfectly this year.

Maybe next year I will remember to bring some up town to brighten this marker up.

Someone remembered the soldiers of the South.

Main Street was decorated for the day.  Appears everybody was elsewhere celebrating!

 

This is a bittersweet day for so many.  It is a special day, one that reminds us of  the price so many paid to allow us be who we are.  Thank you to all the generations of soldiers for their gift of our freedom.

Happy Easter! Happy Spring! Happy New!

Easter 2014 is winding down.  As with all Holiday’s, I am at the age where I reflect a little on my childhood holidays.

Awww … 1958 — that’s me in my Dad’s arms, sister Jane is in front of Dad and sister Barbara is in front of Mom.  Perfect Post War Family in the burbs!

And then the years passed and here we are in 1962. This pic cracks me up — what happened right before this was taken??  Those are some cranky faces!!

In 1967, we moved to Columbia, South Carolina.  Then, somehow, we all grew up and followed our life paths.  Today, Easter 2014, lead me to a quiet, basically non-productive but peaceful day.  I did read a little … I talked to my cousin and my Mom, I texted with my sisters, and I reflected on each of our journeys … I took a nap … I got maudlin … and then I went outside and this is what I found!

The Poplar trees are starting a new season …

The Dogwood and the Daffodils are welcoming another year of life …

The Oriental Maple is showing off … while the dogs chill.  What are you doing Maggie?

The Virginia Bluebells made it through the back yard renovation …

And even these things that I don’t know what they are, well, they look pretty happy about life too …

Whatever your beliefs, this a time of renewal, a time of new life and new energy.  That word “new” came to my waking mind this morning out of nowhere.  This is the time for “New” — let’s treasure the old, but grab the new.  Nothing like a little dose of Hope!  Happy Easter Friends!

Who Lived Here … the old wilton place …

“They” say if you want to write, write what you know … so I am switching it up … I am going to take a stab at that theory.   Let me introduce you to Who Lived Here .. a new category in my blog.  This is totally fictional (OK 95% fictional) — and it is  about buildings I have met through the years … and the stories and history I imagine in them.  Again … let me say … unless otherwise stated, just about everything I write will be based on my imagination … so don’t go researching this stuff … it is just me playing!!

The Background (which is the truth)  …

In 1978, I was a student in the historic preservation program at Middle Tennessee State University.  My passion was for historic buildings and my goals were to work for the National Trust for Historic Preservation and save old buildings.  To that end, my classmates and I spent every free moment exploring the historic built environment of middle Tennessee.

We happened on this house one winter day.  It rested on a knoll overlooking a clover leaf highway exchange.  It was empty and if memory serves, we found an unlocked door and walked through — it was devoid of life — leaving me feeling desolate and sad.  If you look closely at the right hand side of the photo, you will see a wee little bit of my roommate’s ancient VW bug hiding there … so I know that it was at least she and I, and probably her future husband, that embraced this gem that winter day.

When I decided I wanted to start this series, I immediately knew that this was the house to start with.  But where would I find the picture in the vats of photos that I have?  The second container I opened, my hand fell magically on these picture and I knew this was meant to be … so here goes …

The Old Wilton Place …

Who do you think lived here?  Who do you think laughed here? Loved here? Died here?  How did this lonely little house end up empty and alone by the side of the road?

I think this was a very happy house once upon a time.  I think that there was a happy man here.  His name was Philip.  Philip Wilton.  Yes, Philip Wilton.  Our Mr. Wilton was from England.  He left to seek his future in the U. S. of A.  He left because he had no past to speak of and he wanted to embrace life full on … which he did, until he started down the Ohio River headed south.  He left the boat in Cincinnati to look around, and when he returned, the boat had left him … so there he was, stuck in Cincinnati with zip to his name.  He hooked up with some travelers headed south, and he rolled along with them until he hit the lovely countryside near Franklin, Tennessee.  And there he declared that he was home.

Now our Philip Wilton was an industrious sort, so once he decided he was home, he found a job … at the local brewery.  He worked and worked and soon the owner took note.  And not so long after that, the owner’s daughter took note too … and before long, Mr. Wilton was a court’in the lovely Alice Scranton.  Now the dandy thing about America was that the class systems so popular in more old world ‘hoods, well, it was not in force so much in Tennessee in 1838 … so it was ok that  Alice and Philip were making eyes at each other.  By the time they decided to seal the deal, Daddy Scranton was happy to have someone to help him with the brewery, and even happier that his beloved Alice had found her true love.

So what did happy, wealthy Daddy do for his betrothed daughter back in the day?  He built the happy couple a house on the south forty for their wedding present.  And what a perfect house .  Built in the Italianate style* for their June, 1842 wedding — Alice and Philip had all they ever dreamed of.  They were so happy — they even held the wedding reception here — which continued well past the time that Alice and Philip headed upstairs to make it all official.

Alice loved this house.  She loved the way the sun migrated across the dark wooden floors on sunny days.  She loved that she could stand in the middle of a room and see the lush Tennessee landscape from every window.  She loved hearing nieces and nephews running up the steps, the family picnics on the front lawn, her beloved stomping his boots of snow at the front door.  Yes, it was a happy home for many years … but time does pass along, doesn’t it?

One cold winter, Philip couldn’t keep the house warm enough for Alice.  No matter what he did, he just couldn’t stop the chill that overtook her.  After 18 happy years, after all the love and laughter, Alice died in Philip’s arms one cold clear afternoon … and Philip was alone.

The light left the house with Alice gone, and Philip couldn’t erase the sound of her humming as she did chores.  He heard the laughter echo through the stillness, and he knew that he had to leave this place that no longer felt like home.   With the strife of the Civil War looming before him, he moved in to town and eventually remarried.  He lived a good life … but it was a different life with Alice gone.

While he maintained the home throughout his life as a tribute to his true love, he never entered it again.  Since it was built on land owned by Alice’s Dad, it remained in the family after Philip died in his late 80’s.  Various family members used it along the way, but by 1970, progress in the name of a highway came through.  The old house that Alice and Philip loved so dearly faced a bleak future when we happened on it in 1978.

I wonder what has happened to it in those 36 years since I stood there with my instamatic?  I wonder what the real story of this house is — whatever it is — I believe it was happy once.  And if you know this house and it’s true history, I hope you will share it with us!

*The Italianate style was popular in the U.S. beginning in the late 1840’s, but it started in England in the early 1800’s … and our hero was from England, remember?  So he must have helped Daddy Scranton design this house because I just really believe it was built in the early 1840’s!

 

Virginia Weather on the Go …

Lately I have been working on calming down and being … so on Saturday, when the sun came out, I decided to enjoy the day.  After all, the crazy weather people were predicting snow … on March 17 … snow … in Virginia.  Really?

And so I grabbed the camera and headed out the door …

It was a glorious day … do you see the tiny buds on the Maple tree?

Jackson thought it was a pretty dandy day to be a dog …

The Virginia Bluebells started to peek out …

My brave little crocus put on a show …

Yes all was well in our kingdom …

Until we woke up on March 17 to this! Oh Jackson, what happened to our kingdom?

Our world is covered in white …

LOTS of white …

Too much white …

We think we will take a nap and see if it goes away … Happy St. Patty Day!

A Glimmer of Spring …

I pretty much decided that I was taking a little time off from everything this weekend.  That gave me some time to do something … so I went in search of Spring.  After all, it seems like it should be starting to show up in Virginia in early March.  The time changed, my Mom has daffodils in South Carolina – let’s get this show on the road.   Last Sunday was 60 degrees and Monday we had 5 inches of snow and a ZERO degree night … oh where art thou Spring?

Not here …

or here …

Nope … Winter is not letting go of the fight …

Briar and Daisy started looking too …

Hark! A crocus, struggling up from the mud. Weren’t you supposed to burst forth in February? Slacker!

And here are the daffodils … you boys better get moving to catch up with your S.C. peeps …

What have you found Daisy? Snow drops?

Yep! We just got to hang on … come on Spring, you can do it!!

Anger, Anger … Every where …

The theme for me the last week or so was anger … my anger, a stranger’s anger, even the anger of a property manager I pay rent to.  What is that about?  Why are we all so filled with disruptive, eruptive, harsh anger.  My guess is that it stems from frustration, but that is because I believe that is where my anger stems from.  Maybe it comes from disappointment, or depression, or a bad night’s sleep, but it has got to get out of my life.  I am putting you on notice anger — you got to go.  You are not welcome here.

It started the other morning in the Doctor’s office.  I was just a sittin there waiting to give blood.  I was fiddling with my phone and in general not paying much attention to anything, when a large, young, disheveled man started raising his voice to the receptionist.  I really missed what started his agitation, but by the time he sat down next to me and pulled out his phone, he was worked up into a royal swivet.  He was loudly telling the person on the other end of the line that the receptionist was rude and he was not going to tolerate being treated in such a way and he was going to speak to her supervisor.  She heard, I heard, everybody in the office heard.  I debated trying to calm him down, but feared a larger scene would erupt if I lost my temper, so I watched it all play out until I was mercifully called back to the nurse’s station.  I spent a lot of time that day thinking about how our attitude affects others and how it represents who we are. That evening, I called the office and left a message for the desk manager.  I told her that I had witnessed the brouhaha in the morning and that I wanted to defend the receptionist.  She was business like and stressed by the activity of getting the day going, but I don’t believe that she was intentionally rude or deserved the abuse she received.  I also told her that we all got short with the front desk sometimes, after all, we were not at the Doctor’s office because we were in fine form, and that I appreciated that they all put up with us.  She called back and left a nice message the next morning … and I vowed to start working on my own anger issues.

Things rolled along just dandy until the end of the week, when I went in to pay my rent for a little storage unit I use for my business.  The entry door has a hateful lock which the property manager has refused to change, and in the last 2 weeks, it has been being left unlocked.  This means that I and my employees are often walking in to an unsecured creepy dark space … and we don’t like it.  So I thought I would pay my rent and mention my concerns.  I was met with a stony glare by the property manager, and as I wrote out my check, things went from bad to worse.  Without boring you with the details, I said I was concerned about the door and he basically said “tough.”  I made some suggestions of what we could do, and he screamed “I don’t have time for an argument” and stomped back to his office.  I, of course, blamed myself, because that is what I do, but I don’t know.  Either I have some genetic predisposition to irritate people, or people are just as anger as I am!  The tables had turned on me and I was going to be filing a complaint about an employee!  I contacted another large property owner in the area and asked if he had a space in my range of needs, then, once the  adrenaline finally settled down,  I called the owner and brought the incident to his attention.  (Word to the wise … don’t ever mention, suggest, hint or threaten a change in the status quo unless ya got your bases covered already).  We had a nice chat, the conversation ended well enough, but I did tell him that I was not going to work as hard as I do to support someone that treated me as his property manager had — OMG, had I morphed into the guy from the Doc office?

So yesterday, when I normally would have been writing this blog, I finalized the deal on my new location.  It has a window, it has electricity, it could have water, it has street level access, it has a potentially really cool new neighbor (haven’t met her yet – but she is an organic soap maker), and it is closer to my house.  As I thought about how to use the space, I realized I had room to set up a little sewing/felting studio … and all of a sudden, I saw a little glimmer of hope!  And I am thinking that maybe, just maybe, the chain of events for the week had a purpose … not the purpose of continuing to further the black hole I sometimes feel I am in, but the purpose of putting me over the top to make a change.    Maybe if we work to actively recognize the power in acknowledging the forces around us, we will find the tools we seek for change.

So here is my thought for you:  Pay Attention!  Work to feel the energy around you.  Decide how it makes you feel and if it is good or bad for you … then USE that to change the things that are not working for you.  Maybe it starts with just a tiny little change … but maybe it will be the first step of a new journey.