Seagulls?

We decided to take advantage of a beautiful day today and drive up to the mountains.  I brought my camera thinking I would be taking pictures like this. . . .

And instead, stumbled upon this. 

Yes, those are seagulls.  This is a McDonalds in Sevierville, TN.  I'm guessing that the closest beach is Myrtle Beach, SC and that is 303 miles away.  As much as I would like you to believe I pulled that mileage out of my head, I didn't. 

 I googled it.

I didn't google to find out WHY seagulls would be in Sevierville, TN.  I'm leaving that mystery to your imagination.  Yes, that's me in my car shooting the birds with my camera and Bill is driving slowly to get them to fly. 

Don't worry. We didn't squish any.

But they were beautiful. . .

And now I want to go visit my Dad in Panama City and see them in their more natural habitat.  Oh yea, and have a margarita on the beach.  And get a tan.

They still have the same instincts as a "sea" gull.  Throw out a cheez-it and they swarm like a scene from the movie, The Birds.  Great movie.  Tippi Hedron was in that movie.  She's Melanie Griffith's mom. 

Did you know that? Well, now you do.

This guy is mad that I ran out of cheez-itz. 

This is Jonathan.  (Livingston Seagull)  If you don't get that, you need to go to the library.

Yep.  It's time to go to Florida.



Morbid (not)

Talking about death doesn't have to be a morbid thing.  But we wouldn't know that because we never talk about it.  We are so quick to acknowledge life, the right to life, the value of life, the purpose of life.  But its counterpart is hardly addressed unless it is standing in the room with us poking its finger in our back and saying, "Heeeeyyy.  Remember me?"

Death is not currently poking me in my back as far as I know.  And yes, I did have this incredible urge to knock on wood three times when I typed that.  Or say something like, 'now that I said that.'  All the fear and anxiety that just allowing the thought to enter your head brings and its no wonder that death isn't a popular water cooler topic. 

But it should be.

I think that our society fails miserably in its practice of dealing with death.  I think we try to wrap it up into some ridiculous package of meaningless rituals all while forgetting the most important thing.  Death is a part of life.  And depending on your religious or spiritual views, death is a transformation.  But even that knowledge doesn't hit the nail on the head.  Because death means far more to the people who are living than it does to the one who died. 

To the people left behind, we try desperately to make sense of it.  Not because it is complicated - we live, we die.  But because we're never given the proper skills to process it.  If you have a strong sense of faith, then you probably have more skills than most.  But even then, the traditions of our society still dictate how, when, and what is an 'appropriate' or 'acceptable' way to express grief or recognize the life of the person who died.

It has been my experience that we can be our own worse enemy.  Death is not a fun subject and in our own discomfort we are too willing to brush others aside in order not to have to deal with it.  Its no wonder that people feel so alone when someone dies.  It's not just the loss of their loved one that causes the vacuum, its the loss of everyone else. 

I don't have any answers other than to say that I believe there is no wrong way to deal with it.  If you're dealing with a loss and you do something that makes you feel better, then that was the right thing to do.  And if you're trying to help someone dealing with a loss, be the person who sticks.  Be open to hear the pain.  And learn. . .because you'll be there one day, too.  We all will. 

Now, knock on wood three times, and have a great week! 

History

When I was small, we spent most of our vacations in East Tennessee.  I always loved it here, but I never fully appreciated its beauty until I lived in New Jersey.   :-)  Not that New Jersey doesn't have its own type of beauty (and it does, believe me), its just different.  There is a depth of beauty here that goes far beyond the mountains, rivers, and trees. 





Every place has a story.  A little old, a little new, but beautiful just the same.




This carving was made from a tree my husband cut down many years ago.  It is still held in place by the roots of the tree.



I can see my mamaw's eyes in the eyes of this bear, just like I hear her sing to me through bluegrass music.  

And if I look close, I can see my papaw standing on the creek picking up a round, flat stone and skipping it across the water.

 

The footprints of an earlier life that have not been completely washed away.  We are so lucky to touch that history and still feel the connection.  They are our history.









"This we know:  All things are connected like the blood that unites us.  We did not weave the web of live.  We are merely a strand in it.  Whatever we do to the web, we do to ourselves."

Have a great week!