I am only a few weeks away from finishing up the African American history class I have been taking this semester. I signed up for the class because I wanted to see if I could juggle taking a class with being a stay home mommy and wife. Also, it was offered one a weeknight that Justin could watch the kids, which made it an easy decision to take the class.
Being a history major who was completely and irretrievably in love with my major, I have taken many history courses. I contemplated an English minor at one point in my college career, but gave up that goal when I could never decide which history course I did not want to take. I've taken European history courses, historiography courses, Southern History, and several specialized American history classes. So I have spent a fair amount of time in history classes. And they were all wonderful, fabulous classes (except for Early Medieval Europe, but that was my fault, not the fault of the inimitable Dr. Burger, who could not help but make class fun).
So with this being said, few courses have touched me as deeply as this course. The Soviet Russian history course came close, as did the Women in American History, in touching me and impacting my way of thinking, but nothing like this course has.
To begin with, despite taking so many classes, and reading history voraciously over the years, so much of the information is new. I often find myself shocked that I did not know of certain things. For example, there was an antiabolition riot in Nashville in 1835, as well as a race riot in Nashville in 1856 that led to the closure of African American schools for a decade. It speaks to the woeful nature of primary historical education in this country. Too many times we are stuck in a classroom with a football or baseball coach who is not enamoured with his subject. He does not engage the students; he is just trying to get through the day until football practice.
Since the class started in August, I have found myself thinking more deeply of things like race relations. I notice racism more than I ever did, a casual racism that shocks me. What is more shocking is that I never recognized it for what it is for. I have been thinking of how holidays like July 4th must be a mockery to African Americans; after all, slavery did not end on July 4, 1776. We celebrate Washington, Jefferson, and Jackson as great leaders, but we don't discuss the fact they were slaveholders. We don't discuss Lincoln's racism, or the racism of many of our presidents. On a side note, we do ourselves a great disservice when we fail to acknowledge that our national heroes are flawed humans as we are. One could argue that their flaws make them greater, as they were able to achieve greatness despite being deeply flawed.
The negative of my deep thinking is that I know of no answers to the questions being raised by increased awareness. I am researching the idea of slave reparations for my paper, and can see why they are deserved. Yet I have no idea how you could ever make reparations for the damage we have done over the past centuries. I can see the ingrained racism around me and I am not quite sure how to combat it, or how to raise my children so that they do not fall into the racist trap. I can hope that age and wisdom will bring answers, but to be honest, I am not sure if answers are available. Sometimes there are questions too big to be answered. At least by a somewhat harried mom of a preschooler and toddler.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Thanksgiving Memories
Hardy has wanted to decorate for Christmas for at least a month now. I understand why he wants to decorate – I too am a sucker for Christmas decorations, and usually decorate before Thanksgiving so that I can have longer to enjoy the decorations. This year however, I am waiting until the day after Thanksgiving. I am doing to teach a lesson to Hardy – we do not want to overlook Thanksgiving in our rush to celebrate Christmas. Thanksgiving is all about gratitude (at least once you get past grade school and stop talking about the Pilgrims), and that is definitely an attitude I want to inculcate in my children. So hence, we are waiting to put the decorations up or break out the Christmas CDs.
My family did not have many Thanksgiving traditions when I was growing up. I do not think it was a big holiday for our family, at least when I was younger. My parents ran a small grocery store from the time I was three until I was seven, and only had off the day of Thanksgiving itself. I do not recall us going anywhere or visiting any family that day – my parents were tired from working long hours and were thankful to rest at home. By the time the store went out of business (thanks to the construction of I-440 in Nashville, which destroyed the neighbor the store was located in, and passed about 10 feet from the back door of the store), I think our family was at a bit of a loss over what to do for the holiday.
I remember several years where we went out to lunch on Thanksgiving, which as a kid seemed like a huge treat. The only negative was that there were no leftovers, and I was a girl who relished leftovers, especially dressing. We spent a few years with my mom inviting over some neighbors and sharing a meal with them.
We finally started a tradition, now over, when I was in middle school. We started going to a small Mennonite church (yes we still had electricity and no I did not drive a horse and buggy or wear bonnets). Many of the people in the church were “Yankee” transplants to Nashville. Most of them were unable to get home for Thanksgiving, preferring to save any vacation time for longer trips over Christmas or Easter. Therefore, our church started having a church wide Thanksgiving dinner on Wednesday night. This went on for many years. It was potluck, but it was understood that my mother would cook the turkeys (three of them) and the dressing, as she did not, as she stated herself, “trust Yankee women to know how to make good dressing.” There was always the most amazing food available, and it was like being at a huge family reunion. The church was a small one, and I believe the crowd usually averaged between 30 and 40. I look fondly back at those church Thanksgiving dinners.
My most vivid memory of those dinners is of the turkey preparations in the days leading up to the dinner. We had a boxer who loved turkey more than life itself. My mother would sit up the night before the dinner, roasting the turkeys in the oven. My dog, Higgins, would sit up with her, sitting at attention in front of the stove all night. My dad would carve the turkey before the dinner, and he would always manage to slip a piece or two to Higgins. Then mom, not knowing the turkey dad had slipped to my dog, would fix him a large bowl of turkey. After devouring that, Higgins would retire to the couch for the day, snoring and at peace with the world.
One of the things I love about Thanksgiving is that it is a very easy holiday. I love to cook, so any cooking I do is enjoyable. There are no presents to buy, few decorations to put up, no Thanksgiving cards to send. It is a time to enjoy the fellowship of your friends and family, and to reflect on the past year.
This year, I am thankful for many things – for my family, for my husband, for my children, my dog, for friends, for intellectual stimulation, for the blessed mindlessness of reality television. I am thankful for my memories of past Thanksgivings. I am thankful for my life and for the beauty, I find around me every day.
My family did not have many Thanksgiving traditions when I was growing up. I do not think it was a big holiday for our family, at least when I was younger. My parents ran a small grocery store from the time I was three until I was seven, and only had off the day of Thanksgiving itself. I do not recall us going anywhere or visiting any family that day – my parents were tired from working long hours and were thankful to rest at home. By the time the store went out of business (thanks to the construction of I-440 in Nashville, which destroyed the neighbor the store was located in, and passed about 10 feet from the back door of the store), I think our family was at a bit of a loss over what to do for the holiday.
I remember several years where we went out to lunch on Thanksgiving, which as a kid seemed like a huge treat. The only negative was that there were no leftovers, and I was a girl who relished leftovers, especially dressing. We spent a few years with my mom inviting over some neighbors and sharing a meal with them.
We finally started a tradition, now over, when I was in middle school. We started going to a small Mennonite church (yes we still had electricity and no I did not drive a horse and buggy or wear bonnets). Many of the people in the church were “Yankee” transplants to Nashville. Most of them were unable to get home for Thanksgiving, preferring to save any vacation time for longer trips over Christmas or Easter. Therefore, our church started having a church wide Thanksgiving dinner on Wednesday night. This went on for many years. It was potluck, but it was understood that my mother would cook the turkeys (three of them) and the dressing, as she did not, as she stated herself, “trust Yankee women to know how to make good dressing.” There was always the most amazing food available, and it was like being at a huge family reunion. The church was a small one, and I believe the crowd usually averaged between 30 and 40. I look fondly back at those church Thanksgiving dinners.
My most vivid memory of those dinners is of the turkey preparations in the days leading up to the dinner. We had a boxer who loved turkey more than life itself. My mother would sit up the night before the dinner, roasting the turkeys in the oven. My dog, Higgins, would sit up with her, sitting at attention in front of the stove all night. My dad would carve the turkey before the dinner, and he would always manage to slip a piece or two to Higgins. Then mom, not knowing the turkey dad had slipped to my dog, would fix him a large bowl of turkey. After devouring that, Higgins would retire to the couch for the day, snoring and at peace with the world.
One of the things I love about Thanksgiving is that it is a very easy holiday. I love to cook, so any cooking I do is enjoyable. There are no presents to buy, few decorations to put up, no Thanksgiving cards to send. It is a time to enjoy the fellowship of your friends and family, and to reflect on the past year.
This year, I am thankful for many things – for my family, for my husband, for my children, my dog, for friends, for intellectual stimulation, for the blessed mindlessness of reality television. I am thankful for my memories of past Thanksgivings. I am thankful for my life and for the beauty, I find around me every day.
Thursday, November 19, 2009
Save the W!
I was fortunate to attend Mississippi University for Women when I went to college. Despite the name, men are admitted to the university (following a court decision in the 1980s); however, the student population remains predominantly female.
I am not a native of Mississippi, and knew nothing of the W (as it is known affectionately to its alums) until I was contacted about Scholars Day (a day they interview for scholarships) in December 1993. I was unable to attend the actual Scholars Day event, but my dad took me down there the day before to interview.
At the time, I did not want to go to Mississippi to school. To be truthful, Mississippi was the last place on earth I wanted to attend school. I had seen Mississippi Burning, I had seen the footage about the civil rights movement. I knew all I needed to know about Mississippi.
Then I stepped foot on campus, and fell in love immediately. While not an ancient citadel of learning (it was established in 1884), it does have its fair share of old buildings. More importantly, it has more than its fair share of zany traditions. There are ghost stories, esoteric club rituals, and one of my favorites, Old Maid's Gate. The legend is that you have to walk through this gate backwards or you will suffer the supposed curse of being an old maid. If you forget, you can counteract the curse and propitiate the marriage gods by kissing the Kissing Rock (I am not making this stuff up). There was also the Mag Chain, a ritual you take part in on graduation day. The seniors, in their caps and gowns and heels, march (outside in May Mississippi heat), singing the Mag Chain song. After a brief ceremony, the girls rush the magnolia chain, which has been laid on the ground. There are magnolia blossoms interspersed throughout the chain. The legend is that you will have a husband for every blossom you pick off the chain. So to say the W is a unique place is a bit of an understatement.
This week, the governor of Mississippi announced a plan to merge the W with Mississippi State, as well as merging 2 historically black colleges with another black college. The basis for this is that it would save the state money, although the campuses of the schools would still be used as college campuses. This has created an uproar amongst the alums and faculty of the W. Merger with Mississippi State will only destroy the W. Not every student wants to attend a state school with over 10,000 students. Some students want an affordable education in a smaller, more intimate environment. Some women want to attend school at a place where they are not the minority, and where the can be assured that their voices will be heard. The W provides a unique educational experience for women (and smart men!), and it would be devastating to have that experience lost for future generations.
Although I don't know how effective my efforts will be, this week I wrote letters to the Governor of Mississippi, as well the Institute of Higher Learning. I wrote a letter to the editor that will be published in Sunday's Jackson Clarion-Ledger. It may be a losing battle we are fighting. But one doesn't stop fighting because the odds are stacked against them. And I think that a fight where there is a good probability of losing is a great fight to find yourself in.
Monday, November 16, 2009
Partners in Crime
We added a new member to our family last week. After promising Hardy that we would get a dog if he learned to write his name, he finally came through and wrote his name! I then went to the pound to find us a friend.
I went with the intention of adopting a small beagle. I thought that would be a good starter dog for us. It would be small and non-threatening for the children, and I've always heard beagles are good with kids.
I left the pound, after walking several beagles and stalking the aisles of puppies, having adopted a 53 pound boxer mix. Who weighs 53 pounds. And who has not stopped growing. I had a boxer growing up, and I am a sucker for the breed. After seeing Otis, I could not leave until I made arrangements for adoption.
I picked Otis up Monday from the vet, as he had to be 'fixed' before he could come home. While we all fell in love with Otis, one family member in particular has bonded with him in a powerful way.
Ellie, my rambunctious almost 17 month old, has fallen in love with Otis, and he with her. She has absolutely no fear of this creature who weighs almost twice as much as she does. She stuffs food into his mouth, pats him a hundred times a day, throws balls for him, and is not afraid to tussle with him to get her blanket or stuffed dog back from him (they both have an affinity for pink blankets). He, in turn, follows her through the house (that could be due in part to her habit of feeding him goldfish), watches her while she plays outside, and is a gentle giant with her. He allows her to prod him, pull his tail, and in general take advantage of him.
It warms my heart to watch the two of them interact. When it is just the three of us at home in the mornings while my menfolk are at work or school, the two of them go everywhere together. By her naptime, Otis is more than ready for a nap himself.
It makes me think of the times I spent with my own boxer, a pampered pooch named Higgins (for Professor Henry Higgins - I was in a My Fair Lady phase). The bond between a girl and her dog is profound, and I enjoy watching such a bond develop in my house.
I went with the intention of adopting a small beagle. I thought that would be a good starter dog for us. It would be small and non-threatening for the children, and I've always heard beagles are good with kids.
I left the pound, after walking several beagles and stalking the aisles of puppies, having adopted a 53 pound boxer mix. Who weighs 53 pounds. And who has not stopped growing. I had a boxer growing up, and I am a sucker for the breed. After seeing Otis, I could not leave until I made arrangements for adoption.
I picked Otis up Monday from the vet, as he had to be 'fixed' before he could come home. While we all fell in love with Otis, one family member in particular has bonded with him in a powerful way.
Ellie, my rambunctious almost 17 month old, has fallen in love with Otis, and he with her. She has absolutely no fear of this creature who weighs almost twice as much as she does. She stuffs food into his mouth, pats him a hundred times a day, throws balls for him, and is not afraid to tussle with him to get her blanket or stuffed dog back from him (they both have an affinity for pink blankets). He, in turn, follows her through the house (that could be due in part to her habit of feeding him goldfish), watches her while she plays outside, and is a gentle giant with her. He allows her to prod him, pull his tail, and in general take advantage of him.
It warms my heart to watch the two of them interact. When it is just the three of us at home in the mornings while my menfolk are at work or school, the two of them go everywhere together. By her naptime, Otis is more than ready for a nap himself.
It makes me think of the times I spent with my own boxer, a pampered pooch named Higgins (for Professor Henry Higgins - I was in a My Fair Lady phase). The bond between a girl and her dog is profound, and I enjoy watching such a bond develop in my house.
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
School Decisions
Much to my disbelief, my boy Hardy will be starting kindergarten next fall. Part of me is in shock that it is already time for him to be in school full time. I still my baby when I look at him, not a boy ready to enter school and deal with others on a full time basis.
I worry a bit about him because he is a bit reserved at first. It can take him months to warm up to kids. He is wary of new experiences, and I worry about him coming into contact with bullies. Part of that worry is because although he is very tall for his age, he has no clue that he is big for his age. An apt description of Hardy is that he is a gentle giant.
In Murfreesboro, there are options other than your zoned school. There are 2 magnet elementary schools, and a campus school that has a waiting list a mile long. There is also a NASA Explorer school (whatever that is). So there are a lot of public school options.
For my family, public school is the only option I am comfortable with. There is nothing wrong with private schools, but that is not the atmosphere I want my kid in. And while I am religious and am glad there are religious school options available, I don't want that for my kid either.
Part of what drives me is that I want my child to be exposed to as many different kinds of people as possible in his life. It is estimated that we "white" Americans will be in the minority by 2050, and this will be the reality of his adulthood. I need him to know that no matter the race or creed that all people are fundamentally the same. We all want and strive for the same things - fulfillment, love, achievement, acceptance, belonging. It is not that I don't believe there are cultural differences, but I think those differences are things we should learn about, not things to be feared.
Although I myself went to a magnet high school, I am a little uneasy about the magnets in this town. Part of the unease is due to the racial and socio-economic makeup of the schools - they are overwhelmingly white and not disadvantaged. I do not know if that is the atmosphere I want my kid to learn in. While I believe those schools do a fantastic job of educating children, I also think the other city schools have teachers that are doing a fabulous and selfless job of educating children.
Education is not only made up of the curriculum taught; it is also a matter of learning about people and how to get along in society. I don't want my child to have a faith that has been so sheltered that it fails him when he enters the adult world, full of people of differing or no faiths. I don't want him growing up only learning about his own history and background; I want him to learn about other cultures and see how the presence of so many different cultures only enhances life.
So this is my conundrum. Do I send Hardy to his zoned school? I hesitate there only because it is large (over 700 students) and worry about how he will cope with going to a big school. Do I send him to the NASA Explorer school, which is closer to campus and has a more diverse (and disadvantaged) student body? Do I have him tested for the magnet schools, not worrying if he can get in? I honestly do not know what is best for my son. I only know I don't want my issues (my desire for him to be in school with lots of different cultures) to make him miss out on better educational opportunities. I think it was easier for our parents -they just sent us where the school board told them to send us. I almost wish we could go back to that.
I worry a bit about him because he is a bit reserved at first. It can take him months to warm up to kids. He is wary of new experiences, and I worry about him coming into contact with bullies. Part of that worry is because although he is very tall for his age, he has no clue that he is big for his age. An apt description of Hardy is that he is a gentle giant.
In Murfreesboro, there are options other than your zoned school. There are 2 magnet elementary schools, and a campus school that has a waiting list a mile long. There is also a NASA Explorer school (whatever that is). So there are a lot of public school options.
For my family, public school is the only option I am comfortable with. There is nothing wrong with private schools, but that is not the atmosphere I want my kid in. And while I am religious and am glad there are religious school options available, I don't want that for my kid either.
Part of what drives me is that I want my child to be exposed to as many different kinds of people as possible in his life. It is estimated that we "white" Americans will be in the minority by 2050, and this will be the reality of his adulthood. I need him to know that no matter the race or creed that all people are fundamentally the same. We all want and strive for the same things - fulfillment, love, achievement, acceptance, belonging. It is not that I don't believe there are cultural differences, but I think those differences are things we should learn about, not things to be feared.
Although I myself went to a magnet high school, I am a little uneasy about the magnets in this town. Part of the unease is due to the racial and socio-economic makeup of the schools - they are overwhelmingly white and not disadvantaged. I do not know if that is the atmosphere I want my kid to learn in. While I believe those schools do a fantastic job of educating children, I also think the other city schools have teachers that are doing a fabulous and selfless job of educating children.
Education is not only made up of the curriculum taught; it is also a matter of learning about people and how to get along in society. I don't want my child to have a faith that has been so sheltered that it fails him when he enters the adult world, full of people of differing or no faiths. I don't want him growing up only learning about his own history and background; I want him to learn about other cultures and see how the presence of so many different cultures only enhances life.
So this is my conundrum. Do I send Hardy to his zoned school? I hesitate there only because it is large (over 700 students) and worry about how he will cope with going to a big school. Do I send him to the NASA Explorer school, which is closer to campus and has a more diverse (and disadvantaged) student body? Do I have him tested for the magnet schools, not worrying if he can get in? I honestly do not know what is best for my son. I only know I don't want my issues (my desire for him to be in school with lots of different cultures) to make him miss out on better educational opportunities. I think it was easier for our parents -they just sent us where the school board told them to send us. I almost wish we could go back to that.
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
Autumn
One thing I like about autumn is that the quality of light is different. It is softer somehow, more mellow. Almost as if nature itself is in a more mellow mood. After the dreariness of late winter, the gentle beauty of spring, and the lushness of summer, it is as if nature itself has worn down to its essential essence.
It's a more reflective time of year, at least for me. I find myself stopping more to ponder. Pondering itself is not noteworthy - I am a ponderer by nature, content to wrap myself in thoughts both profound and mundane. The difference is that during autumn I find myself stopping what I am doing to ponder. I find myself arrested by the color of the leaves, and the play of light on them. I am amazed at the variety of colors, and how the colors are complementary. I find myself marveling at their downward trajectory. I love watching people rake them into big piles, and I fantasize about jumping in the pile, rolling with abandon as I did when I was eight at my grandparent's house. Only maturity and asthma keeps me acting somewhat properly for my age.
Oddly enough, for as much as I love autumn, I often find myself in danger of wishing myself through the season. I begin to get excited about Christmas and all the planning associated with the festivities. I start planning my Christmas baking. I used to bake 12 types of cookies for Christmas, as well as 3-4 types of candies and 2-3 breads before I started scaling back when I was pregnant with Ellie. Now that she is older, I find myself lured once again by the siren call of baking for the masses, of spending hours creating cookies. I start planning Christmas gifts, and how to decorate and internally debating when the tree should go up.
This is a quality that I wish to change about myself. I have no desire to plan away my autumn, focusing so closely on the future that I forget the moment. I hate looking up one morning and noticing all the leaves have fallen and are brown and muddy. The time of year I look forward to most having past while I was preoccupied with the trivia of my life.
This year I am trying to live more in the moment - to stop and watch the leaves. I try to point out to the kids whenever I see a particularly beautiful tree or pile of leaves. I don't want this to be the autumn that I planned away again.
It's a more reflective time of year, at least for me. I find myself stopping more to ponder. Pondering itself is not noteworthy - I am a ponderer by nature, content to wrap myself in thoughts both profound and mundane. The difference is that during autumn I find myself stopping what I am doing to ponder. I find myself arrested by the color of the leaves, and the play of light on them. I am amazed at the variety of colors, and how the colors are complementary. I find myself marveling at their downward trajectory. I love watching people rake them into big piles, and I fantasize about jumping in the pile, rolling with abandon as I did when I was eight at my grandparent's house. Only maturity and asthma keeps me acting somewhat properly for my age.
Oddly enough, for as much as I love autumn, I often find myself in danger of wishing myself through the season. I begin to get excited about Christmas and all the planning associated with the festivities. I start planning my Christmas baking. I used to bake 12 types of cookies for Christmas, as well as 3-4 types of candies and 2-3 breads before I started scaling back when I was pregnant with Ellie. Now that she is older, I find myself lured once again by the siren call of baking for the masses, of spending hours creating cookies. I start planning Christmas gifts, and how to decorate and internally debating when the tree should go up.
This is a quality that I wish to change about myself. I have no desire to plan away my autumn, focusing so closely on the future that I forget the moment. I hate looking up one morning and noticing all the leaves have fallen and are brown and muddy. The time of year I look forward to most having past while I was preoccupied with the trivia of my life.
This year I am trying to live more in the moment - to stop and watch the leaves. I try to point out to the kids whenever I see a particularly beautiful tree or pile of leaves. I don't want this to be the autumn that I planned away again.
Public Square
One of my favorite things about Murfreesboro is its Public Square. I try to drive around it at least once a week, carefully leaving home early enough to drop Hardy off at preschool (a mere block off of the Square) to accomplish this. I love to see the displays in the windows of the businesses, and I love to watch people making their way around the Square.
The centerpiece of the Square is the Courthouse, one of 6 antebellum courthouses left in the state. It towers above the Square, standing proud among the maple trees and various statuary memorials on its lawn. There are memorials for a General Rutherford (for whom our county is named), for veterans of various wars. Sitting on one of the benches in front of the Courthouse, one can imagine when this place was once the center of activity for the county. I like to sit there (on the rare occasions I sit still for a bit) and imagine its life. It was once surrounded by Union barricades during the Civil War. Prominent local citizens were housed inside during the Civil War, serving as hostages. It has seen its fair share of controversial trials, trials all but forgotten by today’s busy society. Today the Courthouse is often the antithesis of controversy, as it serves as county offices. It still serves as a rallying point at times. During the summer, the newspaper and Downtown Alliance sponsor monthly Friday night concerts on the lawn, bringing in crowds once again. Back in the spring conservatives gathered for a tea party. My family and I stopped by during their rally, reading the signs and listening to the rhetoric. While I do not agree with all their aims, it felt good to see people gathered together, protesting. It is the cornerstone of freedom, of free speech, and it made me feel more patriotic than any pledge or song has ever made me feel. Watching people with differing opinions than my opinion gather to voice them warmed me and made me proud to be an American.
Murfreesboro is fortunate in that the Square is still tenanted by active businesses, restaurants, and law offices. While most of the life of Murfreesboro does take part on the outskirts of town, in the new subdivisions and mall west of town, there are still vital businesses to be found downtown. There is a wonderful Italian restaurant. There are six barbershops (at least). We take my son to one that also has a pool hall in the back. I always feel deliciously edgy going there, taking my son to a place that has a pool hall in the back and where it is rumored Al Capone once had his haircut. There is an old hardware store on the Square, where I once stopped to buy WD-40 for Ellie’s stroller. The aisles were narrow, reminding me of a time when one did not shop with wide carts.
There is an atmosphere to the square, especially in the fall when the light is softer. My husband often tells me that I am imagining a Square that only exists in my imagination, but I disagree. You can sense the history of a place that has been there for years. There is an atmosphere present, one that is created by years of joy, triumphs, pain, evil, and banality. One cannot help but sense the past, the footsteps of those that came before us when you step into an old store. Sitting under the huge maples of the courthouse, one can sense the struggles that have taken place in and around that building. One can sense the crowds that lawn has hosted.
Almost a hundred years ago, in 1913, a tornado touched down on the or near the Square, devastating blocks of the stores and churches. Amazingly enough, the Courthouse was spared. The images taken of the aftermath, of seeing the Courthouse standing majestically amongst the ruins are haunting. It reminds one of the vitality of the Square, of what it has overcome. It has overcome natural disasters, wars. It has seen itself fade from being the most important spot in town, a gathering spot, to being an afterthought. I cannot tell you of the number of people I know in town that spend weeks or months never going near the Square. All I can say is that it is their loss.
Monday, November 2, 2009
Halloween Fun
I am a big fan of Halloween, mostly due to my sweetheart. I was somewhat indifferent to Halloween before I met him. His birthday is in October, and Halloween has always been a favorite of his. His enthusiasm has been contagious, and I now love the holiday too. What's not to love - a holiday where you buy no gifts, prepare no huge meal, have no familial travel expectations? All you do is dress up and eat massive amounts of candy - that is a notion I firmly endorse.
We started the holiday on Thursday with Hardy's preschool party. It was fun to watch the kids in their costumes, eating pizza and having fun. Ellie had a blast playing in his classroom.
This year I lost my mind - I volunteered to host our playgroup Halloween party. It seemed like a good idea, and you can't not have a party, right? And I somehow convinced myself that a lot of the mommies would not be able to make it. I ended up with 31 people (adults, children, and babies) in my 1,400 square foot house, celebrating the day with abandon.
It was a lot of fun, actually, and the weather cooperated fully. It was a gorgeous fall day. We decorated bags for a Halloween hunt (fancy term for candy hunt). We hunted candy, chased ghosts around (white balloons that the wind obligingly blew all over the back yard), played spider web and pin the smile on the pumpkin. We ate tons of yummy food (those mommies know how to potluck!) and enjoyed a little adult company for awhile. The kids were adorable in their costumes.
That afternoon, as if the day was not busy enough, we went trick or treating on the Square. That, for me, is the highlight of Halloween in Murfreesboro. Lots of kids, lots of cool costumes, and lots of costumes. This year was Ellie's first year of actual trick or treating, and she embraced it willingly. She walked around the Square like a trooper. She even kept her ears on.
The next day was actually Halloween, the third day of our ongoing celebration. After naps, we dressed the kids up and took them to Nashville to see my parents. They were given huge goody bags and cookies, because heaven knows there was not enough sugar in this house! After we returned home, Hardy and Justin ventured out for his first year of trick or treating in our neighborhood. He got a good haul, and had a lot of fun.
After 3 full days of Halloween, I am glad the fun is over. I've come down from the sugar high, and am ready for normal life again!
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