Black Hawk Down?

Yup, this photo pretty much covers what I remember as the important aspects of the town where I grew up: love of God and Country. This Black Hawk made a "controlled" landing a couple of blocks from my Grandfather's place this afternoon, after an emergency light went off when it shouldn't have; no harm done, but it did give people something to talk about.

Heritage

Today, Grandfather and I had wonderful lunch with a few of the other influential grownups in my younger life: "Mama" Bayer (our gracious hostess for a lovely celebration at the Heritage Club), "Uncle" Fred, and "Aunt" Barbara. Although I'm not technically related to any of these fine folks by blood, I wouldn't hestitate to call them family. They play major parts in the stories of my childhood (the ones I can remember, at least!) and always watched out for me just like they did their own kids. It takes a village, as they say, and I had a really good one...

God Gave Me a Cookie

Recently, I was reminded of a saying that a friend of mine likes to use: "God gave you a cookie," meaning that something sweet, wonderful, and unexpected has happened to you. It popped into my mind the other day as we drove through the densely wooded area from the Huntsville airport to the south end of town.

Fall colors usually come much earlier in the year here, but the rain in September and a later-than-usual cold snap meant the autumn spectacle was perfectly timed for the day we arrived. I've missed this particular beauty so much in temperate California. The palette was stunning, from green to yellow to gold to orange to magenta to deep red and finally, brown.

The colors don't last long and neither do the leaves, now scattered on the ground like so many million crumbs. But God gave me a cookie. And it was good.

Sweet Home Alabama

Circling for a landing at the airport of the town where I grew up always gives me the same lump in my throat. If you haven't seen it, you would never believe the clay dirt could be so red. I feel like I have this iron-rich soil running through my veins, and I realize it's true: you can take the girl out of the South, but you can't take the South out of the girl.

The older kids have come with me to celebrate Thanksgiving with my grandparents, and my brother and his wife will arrive soon, too. A real family homecoming. Family is what brings me back over and over, but I have to admit the countryside calls to me, too, in a way it never did when I first left for California twenty-five years ago.

The changing seasons, the cotton fields, the magnolias, the biscuits with ham and red-eye gravy, the slower pace of things, and the genteel way of most Southerners -- I miss them all; they're part of what makes me who I am. And while I wouldn't trade the life I have now, it's good to know that whenever you really want to, you can go home again.