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memories

adventures / family / memories / Monday / photo — Comments Off
20
Jun 16

Our seventh anniversary

It started in a classroom. It had to start somewhere, and of course it started there. Lauren and I were in this grad school class and we hated it. The only person less interested was the professor. Near the end of the term she showed back up and, she says, I made some snarky comment. And, she says, she checked me out.

It started in the parking lot of that classroom building, which has since been razed. We complained about the class and talked about this and that. We talked a long time. She was smart and funny and quick witted. The next week we did the same thing. And she was smart and funny and quick witted again. Also, she was pretty and had this smile.

It started over scratch made lemon icebox pie. The first meal we shared. Later she and I went on a date and our classmates, the Chess Club, (we have king pieces and everything) began to think of us as inseparable.

It started among people that care the most for us. I met her parents, who are delightful. She met my family, which is lovely. We took family trips. After some long time, she wondered when I would propose. I drew that out as long as possible.

It started in Forsyth Park, under our tree, where we always sat and read and talked and listened as the world went by. I, finally, proposed. I was trying to work up nerve to ask this question to which I already knew the answer. Just looking for a sign. Give me a signal. Any signal will do. Was that falling leaf my signal? Why am I so bad at subtlety? I’d excused myself to go to the restroom, a feint to leave so that I could come back, which was my plan. In between I met a man and we quoted scriptures to one another about family and marriage and that was, I took it, as my signal. Who has mastered subtlety? This guy. So I excused myself from one of the better-timed Biblical conversations I’ve ever had to return to one of the longest running, most important conversations I have.

It started without a speech. “Would you like to have more adventures with me?” That was it. Somehow it didn’t occur to me beforehand to think up anything to say. But it was perfect and simple. It was a callback to an early conversation about adventures and history. She said yes.

Then we got married. It started seven years ago under a heavy canopy on the hottest day of the year with a small group of important people. The things I recall most often are that smile, the picture-taking, learning what the clinking of silverware on glasses meant and the thought I had, immediately after, that I wished I’d done this cool thing and that gracious thing during the ceremony. My uncle married us, and was terrific. Our guests always, always, talk about the heat. One of our best friends likes to remind us I turned scarily white. There is no such thing as summer wool.

It started with her. It had to start with her. We’ve had many adventures. We’ve gone places and created memories I wouldn’t have thought of otherwise. Most of them were of her doing. All of them — the trips and the more important, bigger, moment where we were just sitting on the sofa and reading together — fall neatly into the idea that your experiences make you who you are. When people say that you can hear the happiness, satisfaction, contentment; you can pick up on the recognition of self-awareness in the voice. It is difficult, then, to imagine any better thing to be.

I took this picture of her in Savannah, the night before we married. The night before it started.

It started in Savannah. It started in a classroom in Birmingham and it started in the parking lot outside. It started at a friend’s apartment and in my house. It started among friends. It started among family. It started in our homes.

That’s the fun thing about adventures. If you are up for it, you’re always starting one.

adventures / memories / Monday / photo — Comments Off
13
Jun 16

What’s a blind dinosaur called? A Do-you-think-he-saurus

We journeyed up to Indianapolis for a Saturday trip. And we saw dinosaurs!

I don’t understand how everyone can be so casual about this. There are giant lizards destroying buildings and no one is under any sort of panic or is demonstrating the slightest bit of concern:

That’s at the Children’s Museum of Indianapolis, which is the largest in the world. They say there are 472,900 square feet on five floors and holds more than 120,000 artifacts. They get more than a million guests a year. But we didn’t go there today.

The Yankee has some family friends in Indy. Since my mother-in-law is in town we drove up for a visit, a catch-up, lunch and a little tour.

I also took a picture of the biggest sky walk I’ve ever seen, this is at the Arts Council of Indianapolis.

This was my first trip downtown. It feels like a small town, but busy. And it is just up the road, which is good, because I have to go see that museum.

The unpacking continues. I’ve got to figure out where to hang things. Like this:

Note the year, 1953. I’ve had that magazine — bought it in Kansas City I’d bet — for probably 20 years, because of a feature on the inside:

That’s my bachelor’s degree, after all, so naturally it is something I framed long ago. It should go on a wall somewhere. Somewhere that the dinosaurs can’t reach.

adventures / Auburn / Friday / memories / photo — Comments Off
27
May 16

Goodbye, Auburn

You sleep and eat in safety in it, but a house is, really just the place where you put your memories for awhile.

This was a pretty good house, then. Except for the part about being on a haunted burial ground.

But there’s another house waiting, elsewhere.

Goodbye, Auburn.

It’s been real.

Auburn / memories / Thursday — Comments Off
26
May 16

My last hours in Auburn

That sounds melodramatic, I suppose, but it is what it is. I spent two years trying to get here, then five years living here and then nine years missing it and, returning, six more years here. That’s, all told, more than half my life thinking about the place. And, in most ways, that’s unrequited. I don’t really have a lot of other ways to talk about it than that.

And now I’m leaving it. Don’t want to, but there it is. Here we are. Here we go.

So I rode around one last time and took a few pictures of buildings because … I don’t know, but that’s what you do.

My first class was in this building, many years ago, just off to the right. It was an 8 a.m. Monday, Wednesday, Friday class. Animal Dairy Sciences:

Comer Hall, my major lived in there. This is the top of ag hill, and I spent half of my undergraduate career there.

A few more views of Comer:

And this is Duncan Hall. I did my internship there, and worked for another year or so besides. Did some writing, some photography, some online work, some radio editing, some satellite uplinks and so on:

And one of the better oak trees on campus. Always looked like a place to climb or read or kiss.

Tomorrow we sign our papers and drive away, on to the next thing.

Auburn / memories / photo / swimming / Wednesday — Comments Off
27
Apr 16

To every meal’s seasoning …

Jeff Price says the Barbecue House is sold and the College Street landmark will be redeveloped. The oldest restaurant in Auburn, Alabama is going away.

He just lost his mother a few years ago. His parents built the business themselves and for most of his life Mr. Price has had his hands in it as well. You could tell that he was getting ready for a new chapter. He still has his health and his family and more happy customers than he could count. People will miss it, but people will understand. That’s the thing about regulars. The employees see you, but you see them, too. You can count plenty of mornings and lunches that he was there.

When I was in undergrad I’d go there for breakfast. And some days I’d just stay there, skip a class, read the paper and then order lunch. I ate there for five years. But then I moved away. Ten years later, when we moved back, Mr. Price asked if I was visiting or if I was back. He remembered me, just another young regular who used to visit his store a decade prior. That’s kind of the place they’ve made at The Barbecue House. That, and the food, will be missed. We’ll have to eat there a lot in the last few weeks.

Everything changes. Everything has changed. It is all different.

At any rate … Nice 2,500 meter swim today.

It only hurt for most of the time.