on the iPod: "daylight" -- maroon five
The doors of Bentonville High School have officially closed and the hallways have become eerily quiet, as students have completed their final exams and made a mad dash for the nearest exit. Of course they'll be bored within weeks, amidst complaints of "there's nothing to do in this town", but for now they couldn't be happier. That same sentiment could be said for the teachers as well. And while most teachers will continue to work throughout the coming months, myself included in that lot, there will be a temporary paradigm shift from ringing tardy bells and grading papers to no alarm clock and reading a good book. Summer is here.
There's no better way to start the season than with a roadtrip on Memorial Day weekend, which is exactly where I found myself on Friday afternoon. Heading into the Deep South of Holly Springs, Mississippi for the wedding of two great friends, I hit the road with the windows down and the sunroof open. Abundant sunshine blanketed the interstate as I drove across Arkansas listening to John Mayer, The Allman Bros. Band, Nickel Creek, and the Steve Miller Band. All I packed was an overnight bag and suit. And running shoes.
Like most runners, I revel in the chance to do what I love in another place. It literally makes me excited to think about running while on vacation, and I always pack gear in case I get the chance to do so. Knowing that I'd be staying on a golf course, I thought there would be a good chance to get some quiet early morning miles logged before the world awoke, as sprinklers coated the greens with sprays of water. I couldn't swing a golf club if my life depended on it, but I love golf courses nonetheless. The manicured acreage and lush landscapes are gorgeous and relaxing, providing a calming effect that is perfect for running.
Holly Springs, Mississippi is a classic Southern town that dates well before the Civil War and has all of the original architecture and charm to prove it. The wedding weekend was a host of parties and events at various antebellum mansions scattered amongst centuries-old magnolia trees in full bloom. The physical spaces alone were enough for pause, but when coupled with the period furniture, gardens, food and drink, historical significance, music and dancing, Southern charm, and perfect weather, the entire weekend embodied a true, unique spirit. It was one of the nicest and most amazing weddings i've ever attended.
After what was a really special weekend, I headed back to Fayetteville early Sunday morning as the Memorial Day weekend progressed. Northwest Arkansas is so very different from the rest of the state in many ways -- economically, educationally, racially, and geographically. At 39, i've now lived here longer than I did in Southeast Arkansas and don't often think about that, but I never fail to feel at home on the rare instances of traveling through the rest of the state. As much as childhood was difficult for me, it was also perfect in many ways, and I wouldn't change a single thing about it.
Growing up, the prairie land and farms were as flat as they could be. The rice and cotton fields naturally attracted bugs and mosquitos that were unavoidable in the summer months. The humidity was overwhelming with zero breeze, but we were used to it. Run down houses dotted the highway and train tracks stretched for miles. Liquor stores and churches shared the same street corners. Baseball fields were the weekend entertainment. The low rumbling of the train cars became a soothing sound, and a steady reminder of the hard work and labor of everybody's dad, including mine.
Even now, when the nights are quiet and I am alone on my back deck, I can close my eyes and almost be back there. I can be that awkward kid again, terrified and happy at the same time, riding my bike through the neighborhood, not coming home until it was time to eat, with mosquito bites covering my legs. And while I can never go back there again, I can also never forget it. It's who I am.
I exited the interstate about half way between Memphis and Little Rock, heading south into those memories. I needed to go back to where I grew up and experience that part of my life again. My mother's family all lived in small towns that dotted Prairie County -- Stuttgart, Ulm, Slovak, and Hazen. We would go there in July for a family reunion that I very much looked forward to every year. My grandfather, who my sister and I both loved very much, had four sisters that she and I thought of as aunts, even though they were actually my mother's aunts. They were powerfully strong German women and we loved them dearly, too.
Pulling into Ulm around 11:30, the landscape had changed very little, which was extremely comforting. I knew exactly where I would find my Aunt Julie -- Zion Lutheran Church. I quietly walked in half way through a hellfire sermon wearing khaki shorts, a Breckenridge t-shirt, and Chacos. My cousin Nila was in the back and I sat with her until I could get Aunt Julie's attention. As soon as she saw me, she picked up her purse, got up, and we walked out together. I hugged her neck and told her where I was going and she immediately said she wanted to go with me.
Standing together under a gorgeous sky and surrounded by my family who have passed on, Aunt Julie and I talked for about an hour. She told me stories I'd never heard before about my Uncle Howard, my mom, and particularly my grandparents. I fought back tears, eventually giving way to them, as the full weight of just how special and loving my family is became evident to me. We called my grandmother Big Mama and my grandfather Dali. My grandfather fought in World War II, flying around 31 combat missions before being injured, and then flying some more even though he wanted to go home, according to Aunt Julie. He eventually did come home with a Purple Heart pinned to his lapel. Aunt Julie insisted on driving me to the edge of town, where I gave her a final hug and thanked her for going to the cemetery with me. I tried to convey how special she is to me and I hope she knows that she is such a large part of my memories of childhood. I regret that I didn't somehow get a picture of the two of us. I have it in my mind's eye.
Summer 2013 is just getting started and there will be more roadtrips, with weeks in the gulf coast and the caribbean scheduled in the coming months. I'm hoping to add a half marathon in July as well. No matter how far I travel, the Arkansas of my childhood will come with me in some small way. It's always with me.
Run.
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