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September 28, 2006

estoy muy enojada!

I'm feeling outraged—disgusted too, for that matter.

One of the things I love about where I live is the diversity. Interestingly similar to my neighborhood in Chicago, there are many Spanish-speaking families that live in the area, and I love it. It's endearing when people come into our store for the first time and have some challenges with our unique lingo, and I am only too happy to do some basic translation from English to Spanish to help our customers order what they want. It's equally cool to see the many Ethiopian, Somali and Arab customers who frequent our little coffee shop. If anyone ever had a doubt, “cappuccino” is definitely the universal language.

But there are people—LOTS of people, apparently—who live in the Nashville area who don't feel as warm and fuzzy as I do about our diversity—diversity that is an inevitable reality for a country that has always prided itself on being a “melting pot” and the “land of the free.” And quite honestly, I am truly heartbroken about some of the buzz happening in the Nashville metropolitan area these days.

We have a city Councilman who wants to require the city to conduct all its business in English and prohibit offering services or information to its citizens in any other language. Wow. Yeah. Ok. The purpose being that it will encourage non-English speakers to learn the language. Um, ok. Yeah. Right.

And then there is Lewisburg—a little town in which some citizens loudly (and obnoxiously, in my opinion) made a fuss over some “foreign language” books being purchased by the local library. To be clear, $130 of the library’s $13,000 budget was used to purchase books in Spanish, Japanese, Russian, Polish, and French. I can see why some people were upset—that could break the bank! (The silver lining: tons of books in other languages were subsequently donated to the library. Cool!)

The cherry on top is an electronic billboard along I-40 that for a while had this message on it:

“Metro Council, welcome to America, we speak English here. Pass the bill. Immigrants, no habla Ingles? No freeo stuffo, from el governmento, comprende por favor?”

Gross! Unacceptable! Outrageous! And I’ve got a lot of other choice words that will not be posted here because I try to keep it PG. But, wow! Wow. Sad.

I am not even going to touch the whole immigration debate that seems to have become a central issue for the mid-term elections this year. I am not going to point out that everyone who lives in the United States today who is not of American Indian origin is an immigrant or a descendant of one. That’s a much more complex and broad-reaching issue than I have the energy to address right now.

Let me just say that for the first time I do not like living where I live—specifically and generally. I have endeavored sincerely to shield my heart from all the negative stereotypes people offered freely when they found out I was moving to “the South”—stereotypes about how ignorant or backwards Southerners can be, stereotypes that I still refuse to apply to people around me and myself. And I believe with all my being that people are people and we are all equal.

It’s just that all of a sudden, I feel like I’m living in a very intolerant and ignorant environment. I will own that these are judgments on my part, and I am fully aware of the fact that not every “volunteer” is intolerant and ignorant. But really, today is the first time I felt strongly about not putting down deep roots in Tennessee. Maybe not even in the 48 contiguous states. Who knows? I am, of course, open to all the possibilities life has to offer. The more I think about my future—as an individual, as a wife and mother (hopefully one day – don’t get any ideas!), as a globally minded person—the more I see my future somewhere other than Tennessee and quite possibly somewhere other than the States.

And let me also state for the record that I feel strongly that one benefits from learning the primary or prevalent language spoken in a country to which they may move. If I moved to China, I fully expect I would work hard at learning Mandarin and perhaps the dialect of whatever region in which I find myself. So, yeah—I think people living in the States need to learn English. But it doesn’t happen overnight! And the more welcoming and open we can be, I suspect the more encouraged people will feel to learn English. I can’t imagine there’s much incentive to learn a language for the purpose of speaking with people who communicate loudly and clearly their disinterest in having you living near them.

People are often surprised by the fact that I like country music. Yeah, I do. In fact, there is a song I really like by the band Little Big Town called “Boondocks”. And there was a sweet and moving moment I experienced months ago involving that song. There was something about that moment, something that made the oneness of humanity so clear in my heart—again—and something that urgently reminded me about the importance of opening our hearts to people who may seem so different from us on the surface but who are having the exact same human experience we are having. I feel utter joy in those fleeting yet palpable moments when I just get it—I get the fact that we’re all the same, I feel it in my veins, I breathe it into my being. We are all imperfect yet glorious, we all take pride in our heritage and are headed toward the same future, we are corporeal and spiritual beings, and we are all profoundly insignificant in the greater scheme of the universe yet so precious and spectacular.

September 18, 2006

lake lure - i loved it

I’m not generally into “recaps,” but since there was such a build-up of suspense about our Labor Day weekend, I offer a few reflections. The weekend was… amazing. Nothing short of just wonderful. Except for the part when Steve scared the shit out of me unintentionally. Ha! Otherwise it was magical and renewing.

As we left Nashville, Steve handed me a brochure for “Marchbank Weekend Getaway Consulting Services” – a subsidiary of Marchbank Enterprises and offshoot of “Marchbank Welcome Home Consulting Services.” Hilarious. And utterly fabulous! The brochure outlined (vaguely) our weekend plans—that they would be relaxing, beautiful, unplugged from civilization and work—and emphasized the reason for our weekend getaway, which was connection. Just before we left, Steve gave me a card that outlined a “1234” plan for the weekend: “one purpose, two people, three days, fo(u)r love and connection.” I loved it. He speaks my heart’s language.

So, we entered the highway (“of love”—shout out to Gwen!) and had a good laugh about whether we were going east or west. He was trying so hard to be the master of mystery. I loved it. As we headed east on I-40, finally, Steve handed me another piece of paper—a flyer for “Hour One” of our trip. It humorously pointed out that we were NOT going to Hot Springs, Arkansas, as I might have imagined. You see, a few days previously, Steve had left open on his computer a browser page for weather.com outlining the forecast for Hot Springs, Arkansas, and asked me to look something up on the internet. Har har. So, apparently that was meant to throw me off. On purpose!! Dang, this guy is good. I am not usually easily surprised. I generally figure it out—too smart for my own good sometimes. But I digress. Apparently, Lacey was in on it too and was supposed to have thrown me off even more when we chatted on the phone a couple of days before we left for our weekend away. Well-played, Steve. Well-played. Mwa haha.

Alright. So, “Hour One” pointed out that we were not going west, but it didn’t give any more info about where we WERE going. The surprise was maintained at that point. I thought, then, maybe we’re going into the Smoky Mountains? Which I’d love! I surrendered to the surprise, though. I loved it.

“Hour Two” confirmed our eastward direction, but, again, didn’t give any clues as to our final destination other than we were NOT going to Knoxville. This flyer came out of the same folder as the first one. I wondered how many more flyers were going to emerge from that mysterious folder, and what else was inside? (Insert raised eyebrow here.)

Flyers for “Hours Three, Four and Five” came and went. I knew that we were going to North Carolina, but I wasn’t sure in what town we would end up. I imagined, perhaps, we were going to Chimney Rock and the Bat Cave near Asheville, but I wasn’t sure. Again, surrendering to the surprise was more fun than knowing where we were going. I loved that. I’m realizing more and more that surrendering to life in general is more fun than anything I could plan or know myself.

We were switching between highways, and Steve suddenly slowed down. Excitedly, I asked, “Are we there?” He hesitantly replied, “Well, uh, not quite yet. In fact, I think I missed the exit. Hmph. Well, maybe if I tell you where we’re going now you can help me navigate?”

For real, I love that this man can ask for help. It makes feel giddy.

So, he gave me a “Final Destination” flyer that outlined our plans for a weekend in Lake Lure, North Carolina. BEAUTIFUL!! I was very excited when he told me where we were going AND what we were doing. Man oh man! A couple’s massage for 1.5 hours Saturday morning??!? Only to be topped by a dinner cruise on the lake at sunset. Wow. I loved it!

Yeah, this man speaks my heart’s language. Soft and clear.

So, after consulting the directions and a couple of maps, and following a long and windy route through the hills and mountains, we ended up in Lake Lure, which is really pretty even at night. Finding Steve’s aunt’s home (where we were staying) in the dark middle of nowhere was a bit of a challenge, and several times we found ourselves driving down dead-end roads. It was rather amusing. Or, I was rather amused. But we were relieved to finally locate our home away from home for the weekend, and we headed in to get a good night’s sleep.

The whole weekend was just reeeeeeeelaxing. Which is exactly what I needed it to be. We had our amazing massage Saturday morning, had a deeeeelicious lunch at La Strada right by the lake, we relaxed at the cabin in the woods during the afternoon, and then enjoyed a lovely dinner cruise at sunset. Wow. What views! Unfortunately, my UV filter needs to be replaced, so a lot of my photos were a little washed out. But in the moment we wholly enjoyed the scenery and each other. After all, the intention was love and connection. However, we did not so much enjoy our company on the cruise—“liberals don’t even fly the American flag, do they?” comments and all—except for a sweet black family that was on the cruise. As we sailed past the site where the set for Dirty Dancing was built, I thought of Charla. Did I mention that’s one of Lake Lure’s primary claims to fame? Yeah. They’re proud of it too. I loved it.

Sunday was equally relaxing. The overcast sky didn’t stop us from walking through town a bit and window shopping at all the cute little souvenir shops, especially the uber-touristy ones close to Chimney Rock. Of course, I bought some fudge. I loved it! Rocky Road. YUM! We tried on ridiculous hats and enormous belt buckles. Yikes. And although we looked high and low for a little magnet as a souvenir of our weekend getaway, we walked away empty-handed as far as that goes. (**Warning! Mush ahead!**) But our hearts were really full. Sigh… (Sorry—I couldn’t resist! Haha!) After our late lunch, we made some popcorn at the house and watched a few movies to wind down for the evening.

Our last day there, we enjoyed some time on the porch just listening to the rain and watching it hit the leaves around us. I enjoyed a lot of reading time, which rocked! And we had brunch at a sweet restaurant in town—authentic Southern cooking! YUM! I loved it.

I loved it all.

My feelings of gratitude deepen as time passes. My love grows and seems to be flourishing daily. I am continually surprised and heartened by this new adventure I have embraced—albeit reluctantly at times. (I’ll have to expand on that another time.) And I am learning SO much on so many levels.

It just goes to show you, surrendering is good for the soul. I love it.