What change really means.....

Tomorrow history will be made. Regardless of who you voted for, there is no denying it will be a sight to be seen. The biggest inauguration to date. History is in our hands. And no one seems to know it better than my youngest son. The fact that a 7 year old is so interested in the race and was so over joyed with the outcome is, all by itself, something worth mentioning. I admit there were times I would stare at him as he got excited overhearing Obama speak and visions of Alex from Family Ties would fill my head. (come on, you remember that don't you???) But in the next hand, I was proud that I have been able to hand down the sense of thinking outside ourselves to my children. We are a split house, canceling each other out in the polls, but I vote. And I make sure my kids see me doing it. I speak at the table about things I hear on the news, I chat on the phone and push my girlfriends to research the causes before voting.
I guess some of it has rubbed off.
But, I wasn't aware of it until a trip to the bookstore. I admit, I jumped on the Twilight bandwagon. After much complaints, I opened the book up and rushed through it one day. I was then very antsy to get the rest of the series and went out the next day to find it. This turned out to be harder than it sounds. All the bookstore were sold out and I ended up dragging AJ from place to place in search of the series. Finally, at the local Borders, I saw a display near the front of Twilight and went immediately to it and in search of the others. I stood there enveloped in vampire books and I saw out of the corner of my eye my youngest move to the table next to me and gasp in excitement (and as loud as possible)

"MOM! Look! Obama wrote a book!!!!!"
I stood there with my hand wrapped around a teen vampire book and was so proud. I did it right. I made a difference. I don't know how. I am sure it wasn't by that particular example. But I did it. It doesn't matter to me who he votes for, what political side he chooses, what matters to me is that he sees it as a part of normal life, that he is excited by it and he is making the choice now. And regardless of what anyone says, this Presidential election was a big part of that.... it changed history already. People sat up and payed attention. People were passionate again. People voted. I am glad I already got to see it in our future.... I somehow feel stronger. Because, really.. history is made today, and I was a part of it.

Little Pink Houses

Every now and again you can catch a song on the radio from John Cougar Mellencamp and if you listen to it, it is always glorifying small town America. Somehow, these songs bring out an endearment and nostalgia for close knit communities and small town feelings. I hear them and I find that I myself have a soft spot for them. But the feeling generally passes. You see, like many other living in a big city life now, I am "from a small town". I didn't grow up there perse, but I did grow there. And I certainly didn't look back when I left there.

Small town America is just that.. small. But all the things that you find in a big city occur in small towns, just usually at a slower pace, and with more people watching closely. There is crime, even if it is simply robbing the quick stop for beer. There is traffic problems, even if it is at the school pick up area. Cruising, vandalism, their own version of gangs, it all happened. And, there is gossip.. usually rampant. I lived in a small town, worked in it. We bought a house there and had kids there. Life has a funny way of turning sometimes, and when it does, its not always welcomed to have people watching it. Naturally, in a small pond every fish is visible. And so, we ran from that small town and went on with our lives.. building something bigger and better and leaving behind all the memories that made up our small town America. We kept our house, rented it out to small town people who worked big time jobs and didn't look back.

Until last month.

6 years had passed since we left that house, and our renters finally had enough of the town too and cut rope. Needless to say, we had to head back to re-rent the house. Back to small town America. The disdain oozed out of us. But it was something we had to do, so we put our heads down and went.

Isn't it true that this is usually when something magical happens?
With a skeptical eye, I went in to my little town, ready to prejudge. Entering my home, a flood of memories and nostalgia came racing back and then I noticed how much work was needed in this house where my children were born. Walls needed repainting, sinks needed replacing. Yada, yada. And so, off to small town hardware store we went. And then it happened that the magic started.

As we drove threw town, people waved. People leaned against their fences and trucks talking with neighbors, chatting with friends. Kids rode bikes up to the 7-11 for slurpies and sat outside laughing and chewing gum. The walmart was filled with people laughing and talking as they shopped. And as we pulled up to our house, armed to the tee with renovating materials.. there was a knock on our door and there are people who were part of our lives before we left. People who I hadn't had much contact with. People who stayed behind while we forged our way out of that town. There they were, and standing tall and strong in our front entry way with a smile on their face and a ready hand. They replaced sinks. They helped with doors and mostly, they helped with healing the heart.

Small town America is more than a song. Those little pink houses have at last found their way back into my heart. They reminded me of who I am. I used to wave at my neighbors. And borrow sugar or ketchup in my pj's over the fence. Game night was a weekly thing. Beers in the garage were a must every Friday. Ready hands, open hearts and homes are a way of life. No one is alone in a small town, even when you want to be.

And so, once again, Winslow has given me something to think about. It gave me back a friend who remembers who I am even when I don't. It has given me focus to whats important in life. It replaced old memories with fresh and happy new ones. And, its given me pride. Pride in me. Pride in my family. Pride in my little pink houses.