Me And Tennessee

I didn't grow up in poverty but I also didn't grow up in wealth. My father was a factory worker and my mother was a Licensed Practical Nurse (LPN) with a two year degree. The marriage didn't last.

The lingering memory of the Great Depression has been passed down through the family. It supplies a value system that is sometimes correct, sometimes profoundly wrong. Values that were important in that era are not necessarily portable. They made sense at the time but context is everything.

Part of this is a consequence of migration. My father's family didn't move around much for two-hundred years, but my mother's family used migration as a way of solving problems. I think I inherited that, whether or not I wanted to. It's buried in my psyche.

My Mother's garden in Murfreesboro, Tennessee.

Mom and Dad's marriage didn't survive long and within a few years I moved with Mom and my stepfather to Tennessee right on my sixteenth birthday.

I made friends in Tennessee, graduated high school there, and formed a bond with my southern heritage. I still have affection for Tennessee. But I chose not to spend my entire life there, moving to Arizona in 2015. It's been good though it's difficult to form permanent relationships here in Flagstaff.

I was able to attend this year's family gathering around Independence Day, and it was a wonderful visit. As always, Tennessee in early July is sweltering and humid yet beautiful. Family, love, fireworks, humidity, golf. Good times.

I feel lucky to have visited.

I went to the trouble of bringing my golf clubs so I could play nine holes with one of my brothers. The air temps and humidity were a little uncomfortable but otherwise it was fun.