Ca$h Money!!

I'm visiting my parents this weekend in Dallas. It's one of my travel destinations, next of which is Norman for the week of Thanksgiving.

Anyway, I digress....

One of the typical things my family does when I'm home is run errands and see movies. Actually, they do that regardless if I'm here, but I get to tag along when I am. Yesterday, dad and I saw The Descendants, which wasn't too bad. But before that, we went to the post office and to the bank. Sitting there, in the drive through, I witnessed the craziest transaction I'd ever seen. And when we left, I asked my dad if he thought what had just happened was bizarre and he didn't know the slightest thing what I was talking about.

This explains three possible things:

1. I'm way too observant and curious for my own good.
2. My dad is way too oblivious to all of his surroundings.
3. It really wasn't that bizarre, but I thought it was because I'd never seen it before.

Here's what happened:

Right after we pulled into the drive through and sent the transactions through the tube, an armored van pulls up right behind us. The ATM is directly to the left, so an armored man gets out of the van, leaving his sun glassed partner watching from the van like an eagle on its post. The dude gets out his keys and after about 5 minutes of punching codes and unlocking and opening the machine, the world is staring at the ATM's skeleton. Or I am at least. he continues punching numbers and a piece of paper regurgitates with some more numbers, I'm guessing, and then finally, he bends down too far below for me to see him extracting the money. It's like he's doing surgery on the robot ATM and getting paid millions in a matter of seconds.

I keep looking in all my mirrors and at the teller, who has been on the phone the entire time. It's taking a very long time for our transaction to be complete.

Then, after a while of bending down, the uniformed man stands up, turns around, and we lock eyes. He's caught me observing the surgery and although I wasn't doing anything wrong, it felt like I had seen him extracting a kidney to sell on the black market. I was at the wrong place at the wrong time and maybe I had caught on to something that wasn't meant to be witnessed. It felt even more like that when he immediately radioed something on his shoulder, at which point the teller behind the window broke me from my trance by mumbling something about taking a little longer. Sure thing, lady, I'm watching this million dollar transaction occur. Take all the time you need.

After that, he walked to a drive-thru that was 3 spaces away from ours. There was a car to our right, and then a space, and then him. Until, right as he started sending the money (I'm guessing), this unmarked white van pulled into the empty space to the left of him. And then the car next to us left, and the van reversed from his original spot, then pulled into the spot next to us. Finally, after about what seemed like 10 more minutes, the armored car that was just sitting behind us began backing away, then the uniformed man walked to the backed up car and got in. It finally drove completely away. But the white van remained. And then suddenly, the teller turned her attention back to me, apologizing that her assistant had been away and was there anything else she could help us with. No, I responded, and thank you.

Why was I so mesmerized, I wonder, while my father remained completely unfazed?

Today, mom and I took a trip down memory lane, to the square in downtown Carrollton. It brought back memories of the county fair parade and riding in the float that my dance company put together every fall. It reminded me of the days when mom would get us out of school for a doctors apt., then take us to the Rainbow Fountain for an ice cream cone and the chance to sit and spin on our favorite color bar stool. I always chose blue. I thought the antique store next door was boring, but as long as the Rainbow Fountain was in the plan, I could manage to get through antiquing. Then there's the gazebo in the square where I'd pretend like I was Lisle from the Sound of Music, and try to jump from bench to bench. Getting back into the car, mom would put us back in our places if we got out of hand. She had me convinced that if I continued to act out, all she had to do was press the Eject button and I'd be shot out of the car, through the ceiling, like a Wile E. Coyote. I didn't dare challenge the threat. All I know is that I didn't have to learn "the hard way" and that she was a great rearing mother and she still is a great and loving mother.

Tonight a lot of my family gathered to help celebrate my only living grandmother's 80th birthday. Grandma Pat has been in the family since before I was born, after she married my Grandpa, the same year my parents got hitched, in 1980. The number of friends and family who attended, and their age ranges, is a testament to the type of woman Pat Fuller is. I can only hope to one day hear my husband publicly express the kind, heartfelt and supporting words my Grandfather spoke to a room full of loved ones, tonight. And I can only hope to live as long and as full of a life that she has thus far. Just 2 or 3 years ago, I might not have made the short trip or minuscule effort in coming home for the weekend. But somewhere in between, I realized life is too short. I constantly have to remind myself to keep things in perspective. Money should not restrict you from doing the things you love or want to do, and it certainly shouldn't keep you from the people whom you care most about. But sometimes it's that impeding obstacle. But when you're just a kid, nothing can slow you down, right? Not even bank tellers.

Lemonade for Sale: $10

My sister and I were those kids on our block who often had a table set up on the curbside when the weather was nice outside. Most of the time it was lemonade or some low-sugar fruity drink, but sometimes we went through our rooms and decided to sell things we no longer played with. My sister's claim to fame was that she sold a Troll doll to Derek Harper, who lived down the street. He said it was going to be one of his daughter's birthday presents. We'd perch on on the top of our brick mail box, flagging down the traffic that consisted of a sole car, creeping down the hill, about one for every 7 minutes that passed.

I began babysitting when I was 13 years old. By the time I could drive, I was booking jobs weekends in advance. I'd glance ahead in my planner, realizing that I had jobs lined up each day of the weekend, for the next 2 or 3 weeks. All of a sudden, as I'm typing this, it makes perfect sense! My dating life was obsolete, but I was making bank and got amazing grades throughout all of HS! I had unknowingly developed the habit of multitasking at a very early age, as well as entrepreneurship. Families could depend on me to take care of their kids and their houses and I began to build a reputation as one of those sitters who would tidy the house and wash dishes after the kids went to bed, thus was recommended to friends of existing clients. I remember one Christmas, I bought a stack of blank rectangular magnets and designed a logo on Windows "Paint" program with my name and phone number and job title: Babysitter. After I printed them off, cut them out and adhered the paper to the magnets, I personalized each and every one of them with multi-colored stamps, then gave them out to my client base. I learned from my father that if you develop good business relationships, it's important to recognize them and let them know they're recognized; that the appreciation is mutual.

Now, as an adult and someone who has suddenly found themselves interested in building a reputation in the creative arts industry, I am pulling out those habits developed as a teenager. So far, the repertoire consists of fused glass pieces of jewelry, uniquely designed racks upon which to display your jewelry, collaged light covers, re-used vintage house window glass paintings, and the piece I'm most proud of, my very first poem chapterbook, "The Toothbrush Tales, Vol. I". It's a collection of 10 origi

nal typewritten poems and collaged artwork. I don't have a steady income at the moment, so this is the beginning of my livelihood as a visual and literary artist. I'm calling the idea "Totem Tokens", because it's a hodgepodge of creations and each area represents a different aspect of areas of life. I'm hoping that there might be a duel-purpose token that can offer something to anyone.

Asheville and Memphis have been very productive points of travel. I found an instant community on the Warren Wilson campus in the woods and entered as a traveler and left as a perspective student for the only graduate program offered: An MFA in creative writing. Go figure that I was plopped onto a campus, in the middle of nature, with one of the best writing programs in the country. It was only natural that I'd get inspired to complete the chapbook, I guess.

I caught my first Craigslist ride share to Memphis, to visit my sister. It wouldn't have been possible without my friends from WWC, though, who helped me with meals, a warm place to stay, use of computers, and a ride into town. My ride share was this woman who needed to get home to see to her ailing mother, with the help from her siblings. The situation seemed familiar to what my own mother and her siblings may have experienced, only a couple of months prior, with Nana. My new friend and I cheered each other on, as we spoke similar views about our society; the need to share what we've already got and bartering our services, while reluctantly agreeing that one still has to try to earn money, even though money itself can truly be the evil root of everything.

Something we didn't have in common, though, was the fact that she'd grown up 3 decades earlier, in the deep south. One where she recalls classmates spitting on her chairs before sitting down to try to focus on the day's lessons. One where she remembers being "taught" by means of staring at the backside of her teacher because he had divided the class by race and directed his topics to only the white students. One where she was the first of five total black students to graduate from the de-segregated high school in Batesville, MS in 1969, only to receive her first reunion announcement 40 years later, after Obama obtained office.

In Memphis, my sister and I visited and talked about our plan to reunite the family by relocating us all to Eugene, OR, in 2-4 years. I hope everyone realizes by now that if it's a "plan" I'm a part of, it's going to happen... :) We went on a hike in the Shelby Forest State Park near her house, and I went on runs and set up the Totem Tokens Facebook page and attempted an Etsy account, not to mention, watched a bunch of Netflix. It was awesome.

I'm plotting my next move, that involves touching base in OK for a couple of days before heading off to Dallas, spending Thanksgiving in Norman and continuing travels to points west. The winds are picking up; clinging leaves are becoming chameleons on their branches, at which point they'll be released to the rest of the world. I'll happily continue to join those leaves on their journey.

Birds of a feather, nest and flock together

For the past couple of days, I've been residing in the valley of the Blue Ridge Mountains, on a small college campus, in the middle of a forest. I have met some very forward thinking and intelligent young adults, who are so excited to gain and utilize their new skills, and furthermore, pass them on to anyone willing to listen.

I opted to stick around the Asheville area, in order to soak up all the natural beauty I could manage, and in return, have managed to become a vicarious student, through my newly developed friendships. One of the main things that I'll be taking away from this experience, is acknowledgement of the importance of balancing friendships on both ends of the age spectrum. The second night, I was invited to this potluck, where the food was garden grown and passion to learn and teach one another was the secret ingredient. It was the best dinner I had tasted while on the road, and it was most certainly because of the love for one another and desire to nourish. After introducing the Wednesday dinner howl from back home, we enjoyed our flavorful feast.

I went for a run the next morning, through a series of trails and ending in an open pasture. As I descended the pasture, gaining ground towards the hill sprinkled with brilliantly autumn-hued trees, my perception was deceived. It was the most bizarre phenomenon I think I have ever experienced. For every step I advanced, the distance felt farther and farther out of reach. It was an experience one might not be surprised to dream, but I became more alert and awake with each new tread.

Sooner than later, I'll advance towards my next travel destination, Memphis. I'll carry with me more than my creation of newly crafted travel tales, yet my load will be lightened and very much enlightened.

What's your favorite type of writing?

You never know what you'll find, if you never go looking.

This is a picture of the Typewriter Serviceman in DC and this is the typewriter he hand delivered to use while he fixed mine. And then we made a trade, on my request. Of course I paid him for his repair service, parts and labor. Sterling Rich has been in the typewriter parts and repair service for 40 years. I believe I have made a pen pal...