I made another trip to Alabama last weekend and attended the wedding of a friend near Huntsville. It was a very quick trip – flying in late on Friday afternoon and out early Sunday afternoon. A lot of the trip was pretty uneventful, though – and I never thought I would EVER be able to say this – I got a haircut at Walmart. Well, ok, it wasn’t exactly one of my life-long goals like catching a foul ball at a major league baseball game, learning to dance like Michael Jackson, and playing the piano like Floyd Cramer, but at least now I can say I did it.
I enjoyed the wedding and the bride is a good friend that I have known and worked with for many years. I cried a little at the wedding. I have been to several weddings over the last few years and I cry at all of them now. I always think about the time – sometime in the not too distant future probably – when my Lauren will be getting married. I don’t think I will ever be able to give her away to anyone for any reason. You should probably come if you can just to see what a basket case her Dad is going to be.
I didn’t stay for the reception after the wedding, because I had somewhere else that I needed to be. I told the bride where I had to go, and she understood completely. I told someone else at the wedding that I was going to stay for the start of the kiss, but I wasn’t going to stay for the end of it. That was pretty close to accurate. I bolted out of there and headed for my rental car and jumped in like one of those cowboys who jumps up on the back of his horse and spurs it on. The little Japanese horse and I flew down the road with a cloud of dust and a hearty “Hiyo…”. Well, nevermind.
Anyway, the bride understood where I needed to go, because she is a native Alabaman – a Southern Belle – and she knew I was going to see family and I didn’t have much time. The drive from Huntsville to Guin was about two and a half hours, so I didn’t get there until 5:30 or so and I knew I was going to have to make the drive back that same evening. I pulled up to Aunt Debbie and Uncle Larry’s house, seeing quite a few other cars there already – family come to visit a spell. I walked across the yard up to the front porch and there it was. The porch swing. That’s where I needed to be.
Don’t misunderstand me. I am a native Texan and one of those totally obnoxious Texans who thinks that his state is the greatest in the Union. I am proud to tell people that I am from Texas. Someone said, “Never ask a man where he is from. If he’s from Texas, he’ll TELL you, and if he’s not, you don’t want to embarrass him.” My favorite bumper sticker states, “You can become an American, but you have to be BORN Texan.” I believe that the Alamo stands on sacred ground and the building there is a shrine to the Spirit of Texas and to the Spirit of the men who, facing insurmountable odds, stood and died there for what they believed in. I believe that Spirit exists in true Texans today – the Spirit that stands fast against its worst fears, faces them head on, and says through gritted teeth, proudly – maybe even arrogantly - “Bring it on.” I believe I have that Spirit.
But if my Spirit lives in Texas, then my heart and soul must live in Alabama. Sometimes I can hear that porch swing calling my name. “Michael Austin”, it says. (And I am ALWAYS Michael Austin to the folks there.) “Michael Austin, it’s time for you to come back.” And I begin to look for excuses to go. No offense intended to the bride – a very good friend – and the wedding was truly beautiful, but it was only an excuse to get to that front porch.
I have had the good fortune to go to a lot of wonderful places in my life. I’ve been from Kennebunkport, Maine to San Diego, California and a lot of places in between. I have felt the cool summer mountain air in the Rockies of Colorado. I’ve been to the Bahamas and in the crystal clear water of Grand Cayman in the Caribbean. I’ve seen the sun set off the western shore of Maui and almost nothing comes closer to perfection than that. But ask me what my favorite place in the whole world is and I’ll tell you it’s a porch swing in Guin, Alabama.
Why is that such a special place? I don’t know that I can explain it. I know it’s because the countryside reminds me of my Dad and the many trips that we made there as I was growing up. The place just has a “feel” to it. You can’t touch it and you can’t describe it, but you can feel it. Maybe I’m the only one who gets it. I don’t know. Sometimes I think I feel things more than most people do. I also know that part of the attraction is the people who are always there when I get there. Those people love me and I love them. They are my Dad’s family and, when he died, he left them to me. I am very proud of that inheritance and hold it as the dearest treasure from my Dad.
I made my way across the yard and onto the porch, going through the usual hugging and greeting. I saw three of Dad’s brothers and one of his sisters there this time – people that I don’t get to see often – usually at funerals, sadly enough. I saw three of Debbie and Larry’s kids – my first cousins – and four of their grandchildren. I was given the seat of honor on the swing and we sat on the porch until dark. From there, we made our way into the kitchen and Debbie offered me food several times. I really wasn’t all that hungry and I was trying to concentrate on visiting, since I knew I had so little time, and on giving the people there my undivided attention. Finally, being the good Southern Mom that she is, Debbie brought me a piece of cake covered in warm chocolate and a cold glass of milk. Man, it was good.
The time, as always, was not enough and I had to leave to go back to Huntsville. It was a long way to come for such a short time to visit, and the road back was long and lonely and I had a hole in my heart, but I would have driven farther for much less time. Sitting among family that I love, talking about everything in general, doing nothing in particular, “just being” in Guin, Alabama, floating on the porch swing….
…. just for a little while….
…. I was home.
I enjoyed the wedding and the bride is a good friend that I have known and worked with for many years. I cried a little at the wedding. I have been to several weddings over the last few years and I cry at all of them now. I always think about the time – sometime in the not too distant future probably – when my Lauren will be getting married. I don’t think I will ever be able to give her away to anyone for any reason. You should probably come if you can just to see what a basket case her Dad is going to be.
I didn’t stay for the reception after the wedding, because I had somewhere else that I needed to be. I told the bride where I had to go, and she understood completely. I told someone else at the wedding that I was going to stay for the start of the kiss, but I wasn’t going to stay for the end of it. That was pretty close to accurate. I bolted out of there and headed for my rental car and jumped in like one of those cowboys who jumps up on the back of his horse and spurs it on. The little Japanese horse and I flew down the road with a cloud of dust and a hearty “Hiyo…”. Well, nevermind.
Anyway, the bride understood where I needed to go, because she is a native Alabaman – a Southern Belle – and she knew I was going to see family and I didn’t have much time. The drive from Huntsville to Guin was about two and a half hours, so I didn’t get there until 5:30 or so and I knew I was going to have to make the drive back that same evening. I pulled up to Aunt Debbie and Uncle Larry’s house, seeing quite a few other cars there already – family come to visit a spell. I walked across the yard up to the front porch and there it was. The porch swing. That’s where I needed to be.
Don’t misunderstand me. I am a native Texan and one of those totally obnoxious Texans who thinks that his state is the greatest in the Union. I am proud to tell people that I am from Texas. Someone said, “Never ask a man where he is from. If he’s from Texas, he’ll TELL you, and if he’s not, you don’t want to embarrass him.” My favorite bumper sticker states, “You can become an American, but you have to be BORN Texan.” I believe that the Alamo stands on sacred ground and the building there is a shrine to the Spirit of Texas and to the Spirit of the men who, facing insurmountable odds, stood and died there for what they believed in. I believe that Spirit exists in true Texans today – the Spirit that stands fast against its worst fears, faces them head on, and says through gritted teeth, proudly – maybe even arrogantly - “Bring it on.” I believe I have that Spirit.
But if my Spirit lives in Texas, then my heart and soul must live in Alabama. Sometimes I can hear that porch swing calling my name. “Michael Austin”, it says. (And I am ALWAYS Michael Austin to the folks there.) “Michael Austin, it’s time for you to come back.” And I begin to look for excuses to go. No offense intended to the bride – a very good friend – and the wedding was truly beautiful, but it was only an excuse to get to that front porch.
I have had the good fortune to go to a lot of wonderful places in my life. I’ve been from Kennebunkport, Maine to San Diego, California and a lot of places in between. I have felt the cool summer mountain air in the Rockies of Colorado. I’ve been to the Bahamas and in the crystal clear water of Grand Cayman in the Caribbean. I’ve seen the sun set off the western shore of Maui and almost nothing comes closer to perfection than that. But ask me what my favorite place in the whole world is and I’ll tell you it’s a porch swing in Guin, Alabama.
Why is that such a special place? I don’t know that I can explain it. I know it’s because the countryside reminds me of my Dad and the many trips that we made there as I was growing up. The place just has a “feel” to it. You can’t touch it and you can’t describe it, but you can feel it. Maybe I’m the only one who gets it. I don’t know. Sometimes I think I feel things more than most people do. I also know that part of the attraction is the people who are always there when I get there. Those people love me and I love them. They are my Dad’s family and, when he died, he left them to me. I am very proud of that inheritance and hold it as the dearest treasure from my Dad.
I made my way across the yard and onto the porch, going through the usual hugging and greeting. I saw three of Dad’s brothers and one of his sisters there this time – people that I don’t get to see often – usually at funerals, sadly enough. I saw three of Debbie and Larry’s kids – my first cousins – and four of their grandchildren. I was given the seat of honor on the swing and we sat on the porch until dark. From there, we made our way into the kitchen and Debbie offered me food several times. I really wasn’t all that hungry and I was trying to concentrate on visiting, since I knew I had so little time, and on giving the people there my undivided attention. Finally, being the good Southern Mom that she is, Debbie brought me a piece of cake covered in warm chocolate and a cold glass of milk. Man, it was good.
The time, as always, was not enough and I had to leave to go back to Huntsville. It was a long way to come for such a short time to visit, and the road back was long and lonely and I had a hole in my heart, but I would have driven farther for much less time. Sitting among family that I love, talking about everything in general, doing nothing in particular, “just being” in Guin, Alabama, floating on the porch swing….
…. just for a little while….
…. I was home.
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