A trip down memory lane!

I just drove 2 hours from St. Louis to Carbondale, Illinios for the night. I’m attending a conference tomorrow so I opted to spend the night in a hotel the night before (SQUEAL!).

After 45 minutes or so on the freeway, waze took me on another highway. I assumed I would link up with another major road since I was still more than an hour from my destination. But, waze did not. It took me the distance but it took me faaaaaar beyond the miles, many miles down Memory Lane to Lucedale. Each small town I passed through brought a smile to my face. It was just me for most of the miles on the back roads and highway. Each small town looked like and reminded me of Lucedale. 

So many flashes of images came to mind, memories jostled, laughter heard, conversations rehashed….

Take a trip down memory lane with me. Does it spark any memories for you?

I’m starting in elementary school. I went to Lucedale Elementary and we had this old gym by the first grade hall. It was always rumored to be haunted. We rarely went in there but when we did it had a damp musty feel. With our skinny little bird legs carrying us, we lined up and walked through the entry way into the gym area. As we walked, we could see this painted Rebel (mascot) and rumor was his eyes moved to watch you. There were so many stories of what happened underneath the gym as if that wasn't enough. Under the stairs you could see fencing, and one could peek in and see grass and just plain old ground. How did so many of us see more? Bodies, skeletons, people reaching for help……it still gives me the willies thinking about that place.

I remember fun trends like jelly shoes and charm necklaces. Oh how I loved to trade charms. I remember some people who had so many charms, I coveted them all. I’m looking at you Jennifer O’Neal. I remember wanting a Glo-worm but never getting one (no worries, I wasn’t damaged). I remember my first Cabbage Patch Doll, Collette Alana. She had red hair. There was a whole round display at Sears one day, and I finally got to pick one out. I mean, it came with a BIRTH CERTIFICATE! I collected all of the California Raisins at Hardee’s.

I remember touching a Black girl’s hair for the first and only time. I had stared at it every single day of first grade. I was behind her in line. I just couldn’t take it anymore. It was like I was out of my body. I asked her, “C, can I touch your hair?” to which she replied yes. Like the speed of light, my hand shot up and touched her beautiful poof and went back down. I doubt anyone even SAW it, I was so fast. I giggle about that every time I touch Luba’s hair.

I remember playing all day outside – most of which was with Blake, my neighbor. We were gone from morning til night. You would see two kids on bike riding down the highway with camo vests (with most likely a squirrel tail whipping in the wind and pellet guns or fishing rods in tow). We hunted, fished, raised cattle, rode bikes, built things, nursed baby animals we found and played. We were inseparable until middle school when you can’t just flit around with your male neighbor.

Middle school, how awkward. I remember my trampoline in the back yard. How many “routines” did we actually make and up and execute? I distinctly remember my routine to “Push It” by Salt n Pepa and it ended with a perfect dismount from the trampoline. I just brought my boom box outside, plugged it in to the outside plug, and played the best songs that I had RECORDED FROM THE RADIO ON TAPE. Remember that? Push record when the song starts.

Mixed tapes…another good memory. Or cassette singles? I remember buying “Superwoman” by Karyn White and taking it to Kristie Kelley’s party so it would be a slow dance option. She did always have the best parties. Everyone wanted to go to Kristie’s parties and what I loved was how inclusive her family was. Her parents were “those parents” who just got us back in those awkward years. They created a space where gangly pimply adolescents could just be. Kristie even had a room that was all purple. Of course, Mrs. Frances totally understood all things girl. 

We didn't have MTV (or good cable or any internet) in those days. My brother recorded Friday night videos for me on VHS because it came on after I went to bed. BAM, Saturday morning meant open eyes, make a pop-tart and tune in to see what the top 10 videos were. I wore out a few tapes rewinding and repeating "Hush Hush" by Paula Abdul and "If I Close My Eyes Forever" By Ozzy and Lita Ford. 

  

I also remember the death of a friend’s little brother during our middle school years. We all learned that death does not wait for us to be ready or “old enough.” You just can’t make sense of a child’s death.  

I remembered introducing myself as if my dad was famous – “Hi, I’m Danielle. My parents are Cary and Peggy Jones.” In those days, we all knew one another by family name. Before I could hang out with a new friend or go on a date, my parents would ask “Who do they belong to?” When I started working in the school district there in George County, I found myself doing the same thing to kids, “Who is your mom?” It just made it all make more sense. Reputation carried you far. You could overcome a bad one but it took work.

My mom always took me to Mobile after Sunday church. I loved this. We went to Red Lobster and then the mall. Occasionally I got to bring a friend. Mom would give me $20 and I’d be on my way for hours. My friend of that day and I would always buy a matching purse at one of those accessories stores at the mall. Rebekah Merck, I still remember red ones we bought at the store next to Woolworth's at Bel Air Mall. On Monday, we were hot stuff. That purse was always full of jolly ranchers too. Jolly ranchers brought all the boys to the yard at the time. We also made sure that purse had a plastic photo album in it with all the newest pictures that we had DEVELOPED. It was common to look at others’ “picture albums” so it changed with the newest pictures or who you were made at (those came out of the book until you were friends again). Purse musts included photo albums, jolly ranchers, comb/brush, and lotion. 

I remember church as I passed houses. I imagined how many of them were relaxing through naps before they would soon head off to Sunday night church. Remember that? At First Baptist, we had choir practice, training union at 6, and then church at 7. I couldn’t wait to get old enough to attend a “lock in” or one of the occasional services where all youth came from other Baptist churches to meet at one after the 7pm service. I can’t even remember what that was called, but I loved it.

Because our town was so small, thankfully high end purses were never a thing. You were “in” if you had a Liz Claiborne purse. Bonus points if you had a bottle of Liz Claiborne perfume, which came in a triangle spray bottle. Dooney & Bourke hit the market (for “other people”) and we all flocked to the store that opened carrying knock offs.

How many times must we have gone to see Reba McEntire or George Strait? On that note, how many pairs of colored Wranglers and Roper boots did we have for donning for such occasions?

As I reminisced up the timeline in my mind, I went to high school. Before we even made it through day 1 of 9^th grade, everyone knew Joe Dunnam was dreamy. All of the K-8 schools finally merged and we had FRESH MEAT! New friends! But how scary! I still remember our eclectic groups that joined for AP English with Mrs. Howell. I thought of her the other day and wondered about her. I remember her as I organize a book club. I love books and I think I fell in love with book discussions in that class where personalities collided and social barriers dissolved.

I remember Interact Club with our sponsor, Mrs. Luce. I volunteered to go to Rotary Club any Monday that didn’t have spots filled. I think Jesus himself made that hamburger steak and gravy that was served most Mondays. We got to leave school to attend the Rotary meeting with all the business men, held at the Coffee Pot on Mondays. The Coffee Pot had a scratching post outside that was our claim to fame. Sadly, the scratching post is there but the Coffee Pot is now a Chinese restaurant. 

Who remembers Katmandu’s? Katmandu’s was a dance place for 18 and over that opened on Airport Boulevard in Mobile. It was like the mecca for coolness as we had nothing like that before. We had only “dances” after Friday night football games so this was grand although it closed shortly after. Our friend Shane used to drive Zan and me. Mark Havard was there, always in the forefront, and that boy could dance. (Mark, I hope you read this). I also remembered the trend of boys wearing pacifiers on a necklace. (Mark, I’ll never tell if you had one…) what must our high school teachers have thought?

We talked on the phone after school and on weekends on a phone that was connected to the wall. If you got in trouble, your parents unplugged it from your room and hung on to that bad boy til things blew over. We wrote letters and exchanged them during breaks and recesses. Cell phones came out at the end of high school for us. We had an antenna that connected to the outside of the car and a “bag phone” that fit on the console area. It was as big as a house phone. It was magic. I could only use mine in case of emergency because there were no value or family plans.

We had typing class which meant no computers as we know it today. We had typewriters. Yearly school supply lists included corrective tape and White Out. I loved typing, and I was good at it. You put a book on a stand that had preprinted paragraphs and you went to town on that keyboard so see how you could beat the day before’s WPM (words per minute, young ones). I typed Coach Sellers’ basketball certificates for him.We had computer class, but it was COMPUTER CLASS where you learned how to do a simple program. The screens were black with green characters. 

These are just a few that came to mind so vividly as I drove. As I always say, I would never trade growing up in a small town for anything else.  I love that a handful of us still make time to get together when I go home at Christmas. I think as we laugh and catch up each time, we still see each other at any of those stages in the early years. I remember Natasha’s super straight here that smelled divine. Seriously, everyone asked her if they could smell her hair. I remember Alisha’s upbeat personality and the way her lips pursed as she concentrated and wrote her school work. I remember Jennifer’s devilish smile and bows in her hair. And at any age, she sang all the time. Love you girls!

Lucedale people, what others can you think of? 

Happy reminiscing,

Danielle

Love for my small town

As most of you know, I was born and raised in a very small rural town in South Mississippi. I’ve posted on this before here, and you know I “puff up” when others say negative things about my beloved home state. On several days throughout any given week, I miss so many aspects of that life.

This past week was one of those weeks. I ached for this tiny town and the people who will always be family, “my” community. The ache started from news of a terrible tragedy that took the life of one young man who was just starting out his adult life at school at Mississippi State University. I was heartbroken. I was heartbroken even though I do not know the family personally. See, that is the beauty of my home town. There is a connectedness. Everyone knows each other or “of” each other. You can identify a family by asking “Who’s your dad/mom?” We celebrate together. We mourn together. We raise each others’ children. When one child passes, we mourn as an extended family. I still feel connected although I am 2000 miles away on the opposite coast. After news was received of this loss, Facebook instantly filled with offerings of condolences and assistance to the family. Several people, whether friends, acquaintances or strangers to this family, changed their profile pictures to this image as a visual token of support and encouragement. 

Just the visual representation of seeing this picture all down my newsfeed made my heart both ache and swell with gratitude. I’m so thankful towns like this still exist. 

Thinking of this brought back memories that are always at the forefront of my soul. My first job was as a Speech Pathologist for that county's school district. I loved it. I loved every minute of my work day. I loved every child that passed my way. I loved the parents, all of who dropped off their children in our care and never second-guessed our intent or actions. We were figures in children’s lives whose parents demanded and expected to be respected. Some of the children at my schools came from modest to low income households. Some lived in houses that would rival a 3^rd world country. Lives were filled with hurt and need but also with love and respect. I always had prizes for good behavior and children could trade in a punched token “card” for any tangible prize or other options. Many of those children who were like an "underdog" in school chose each and every time the reward of eating with me at the “teacher table.” The tangible toys that they did not have at home or the special candy treats they rarely got were passed over. As I even say this, my eyes fill with tears as images of their little faces come so clearly. We ate together, often just the two of us, away from the other teachers and students. I loved laughing at Little “C” stick a chicken leg in her mouth, and I kid you not, pull it out as a clean bone.  One swoop. Little “W” would sit oh-so-close to me, our chairs touching, as we rolled up our rectangular shaped pizza and ate it with grease rolling down our hands. No words were even needed. Little “W” also “somehow” always won a quarter when he beat me in a speech game and I’d watch him toddle through the lunch line and buy an extra milk with it. I die. These are the greatest stories of my life. 

I can say with certainty that it was during that job that my destiny and identity of who I am was solidified. It was there than I began to see that while I cannot do everything, I can do some small things that have a ripple effect that I may never know. It was there that I had my “1 single moment.”  Much of who I am today and how I perform my job and various roles can be traced back to 1 single moment. I remember it as if it were yesterday, even though it was probably 13 years ago. I had completed one year of work and was disappointed having been denied admission to the Master’s program for Speech Pathology. I signed on for another year. It was at the beginning of that year that I walked into the front office to learn that the father of one of our school’s children had been killed earlier that morning. I was devastated when it was confirmed that it was the father of two of my precious clients (siblings). I wrote a card to the mother and I loved on the children more than usual. We played more games. We hugged more. At the end of the year, I asked the kids to recast their favorite events or memories from the year. My “1 single moment” came as Little “C” started to say, “You respected my Dad even though you never met him. You thought he was a great man and you could tell by how he raised me and who I am.” He was reciting, months later, the words that I had written to his mother. In response to the question of “What will you remember about this year,” this sweet boy answered “You were there when my Dad died.” 

“C” taught me so much in that 5 minutes. I was speechless. I realized my supernatural ability to make a mark on the world for the better by “seeing” one person at a time, for taking the moment to put the words in my head onto paper so that they could be read over and over again until they were memorized and internalized. Since that moment, I pass on thoughts that come to mind as encouragement. I know that in most cases I’ll never know their impact or ripple effects. I don’t need to know. “C” had already shown me that kindness matters, and I was lucky enough once to know it and that is enough. 

So, Lucedale, I grieve with you and the Barker family. 

To those children, teachers & parents at Rocky Creek & Benndale, thank you for making me "me." You taught me my greatest lesson. 

With gratitude,

Danielle