This Costly Liberty

Memories of the thoughts we didn't think - but thoughts we loved and engaged in if only for a time. I wonder if Jackie O, or Ethel, or Corretta Scott King - if any of these three would have traded it all in, for life, love and longevity? Would they trade the movement for that? I guess it is reasonable to think is that they probably would have. Those three probably revisited those days over and over in their minds as helplessly as a it could only be. When there was really no true remedy to that anguish. The only solace have could come in the thought that fate plays a role that we cannot tweak. But we already know that? After all no one lives forever… right? But they do!


History brings so much to our table, so much to gain and learn from. For every war there is a victory and for every tale there is a hero. Unfortunately there are also great losses for every war and every great hero does not make it to the other side of the river to tell the stories of the journey. I can imagine that Mrs. Lincoln had wished she had never heard the words Civil War or Ford's Theater. Her place in history is also stained by tragedy.

Washington survived scurvy, and many years of his life were spent in battle. FDR presided over the Great Depression and World War II from a wheel chair. To think that this is just recent history - what about Julius Caesar, Jesus, Socrates? What plagues the inspirers of thought and thinkers is the ideas that are not popular yet. The praises that are not yet sung but soon will be. The things that we are most interested in but too afraid of to bring light to.

Scarves and big dark classes, glamour galore, money and friends could not separate Mrs. Onasis from a day in Dallas, not ever. Mrs. Kennedy and Mrs. King also felt the shock and pain that Mary Todd Lincoln became overwhelmed by. Their children and those after that will be linked for the ages - just as Jonathan said to David in the book of Samuel: There will be a bond between us and our descendants forever (paraphrased).

Their humble offering being that of peace, love and forbidding acceptance left them to be slain by those that didn't accept it. The irony of history is the separation between the rewards we reap and those that were in the fields to harvest those rewards. The few men and women that carry the torch so high and strongly that the fire can never go out.

I call out to you the widows of these men that sleep now and some of you sleep beside them. if only to say thank you for your heroism too. For carrying those feelings of fear and unrest but not allowing them to take your life with them. I thank you for pushing on with causes and courage that took us all places that we didn't know we would go. With that thanks comes the honor of your own legacies, like Mary the mother of Jesus, ladies we will not forget you either. Your smiles, and faces go on to pages and places that will be seen by all those that will continue to benefit from what you saw fit to give your life to. Your time and effort, your love and foresight, your life's work, we have benefitted from too. History knows your names because of a collected gratefulness for your being.

And to think this came into my mind because of a song…Abraham, Martin and John.

Time

With work, vacation, a class reunion, volunteer responsibilities, friends, family, and lest we forget kickball - I am a busy man. I seem to ask myself the question daily if there are enough hours in the day to complete all the task that I need to finish. I have always said that I like to be busy, and busy is what I am.


Needless to say the things that I am currently involved in not only give me the opportunity to work, play and spend time with some really great people. They also accomplish some pretty neat stuff. From the beginning of my life I wanted to be involved and ready for what came my way, and it seems that now whether or not I am ready…plenty of things are coming my way.

At the beginning of the month I spent a few days in the enchanting city of New Orleans. While I was there I spoke to my Papaw on the phone to wish him a happy eightieth birthday. The two of us compared travels, his list was obviously larger than mine, but we both shared the love of the world and life's opportunities. As I meandered through the streets of the French Quarter talking to him I connected with the idea that life is a wonderful thing. Sometimes like the candle that tilts to one side and wax drips off on to the floor - people and places make their mark on us and equally so, we are given the chance to make our own mark on them.

In July, I will reunite with my classmates from Dawson Springs High School after ten years. Finding them on Facebook, and finding their addresses - reacquainting myself with a group of people that I knew so well for so many years - proved to be enjoyable in and of itself. But the true enjoyment comes in getting to spend time with these friends. People that share the same years and memories, of classrooms and milestones. Like the Dandelion that burst into the wind, a hundred parts, and only those knew how it was to be a part of the whole. I am reminded that it is always important to go home, to regroup, recap, and rejuvenate.

As the days fly by and projects come and go I am always eager to put in my time here and there to be a part of something that is bigger than just me. I think we all know that the value of the volunteer is in the money that is saved and the time that is gained from those with true affection for their respective causes. We all understand the idea that a valuable employee is not only there to get his job done, but also there to help those on his team complete their task if needed.

Furthermore, we should all appreciate those friends and family members that are always there - without fail - either to lean on, to laugh with, to cry with, share, love and live with. Those are people we want in our corners.

Whether it is in the time that we spend on volunteer projects, with our friends and family, vacation or work, or even kickball - time is valuable. And as my Aunt Judy says: "Sometimes all we have to give is our time."

Time is so valuable - I know because I have taken a lot of other peoples time over the years. However, I hope to have given my fair share in return. It is a good lesson we learn when we begin to understand that our time is worth more than dollars and cents. It leads us to the knowledge that we as individuals are valuable, indispensible, and needed - if only to just one or two. These conclusion bring meaning to our lives…and that's crucial!

Time

With work, vacation, a class reunion, volunteer responsibilities, friends, family, and lest we forget kickball - I am a busy man. I seem to ask myself the question daily if there are enough hours in the day to complete all the task that I need to finish. I have always said that I like to be busy, and busy is what I am.

Needless to say the things that I am currently involved in not only give me the opportunity to work, play and spend time with some really great people. They also accomplish some pretty neat stuff. From the beginning of my life I wanted to be involved and ready for what came my way, and it seems that now whether or not I am ready…plenty of things are coming my way.

At the beginning of the month I spent a few days in the enchanting city of New Orleans. While I was there I spoke to my Papaw on the phone to wish him a happy eightieth birthday. The two of us compared travels, his list was obviously larger than mine, but we both shared the love of the world and life's opportunities. As I meandered through the streets of the French Quarter talking to him I connected with the idea that life is a wonderful thing. Sometimes like the candle that tilts to one side and wax drips off on to the floor - people and places make their mark on us and equally so, we are given the chance to make our own mark on them.

In July, I will reunite with my classmates from Dawson Springs High School after ten years. Finding them on Facebook, and finding their addresses - reacquainting myself with a group of people that I knew so well for so many years - proved to be enjoyable in and of itself. But the true enjoyment comes in getting to spend time with these friends. People that share the same years and memories, of classrooms and milestones. Like the Dandelion that burst into the wind, a hundred parts, and only those knew how it was to be a part of the whole. I am reminded that it is always important to go home, to regroup, recap, and rejuvenate.

As the days fly by and projects come and go I am always eager to put in my time here and there to be a part of something that is bigger than just me. I think we all know that the value of the volunteer is in the money that is saved and the time that is gained from those with true affection for their respective causes. We all understand the idea that a valuable employee is not only there to get his job done, but also there to help those on his team complete their task if needed.

Furthermore, we should all appreciate those friends and family members that are always there - without fail - either to lean on, to laugh with, to cry with, share, love and live with. Those are people we want in our corners.

Whether it is in the time that we spend on volunteer projects, with our friends and family, vacation or work, or even kickball - time is valuable. And as my Aunt Judy says: "Sometimes all we have to give is our time."

Time is so valuable - I know because I have taken a lot of other peoples time over the years. However, I hope to have given my fair share in return. It is a good lesson we learn when we begin to understand that our time is worth more than dollars and cents. It leads us to the knowledge that we as individuals are valuable, indispensible, and needed - if only to just one or two. These conclusion bring meaning to our lives…and that's crucial!

Nashville

As so many of you already know Nashville is one of my former homes. Ties to Music City are very strong for me, as it was the city in which I got my start professionally. A vivacious and beautiful place in our country of which I will always feel ties to. A city that still hosts many, many friends and a few close family members. Recently, Nashville has been struck by rains and flood waters that have left many of their residents, businesses, churches and most famous music venues destroyed, displaced, and disrupted. As the waters receded and the people of Nashville were able begin to access the damages - I have learned that they began to be overwhelmed by the support of their neighbors, who reached out to one another, in an effort to clean up, clean out, and move forward. Imagine it - volunteers working hard in the Volunteer State!

After getting an e-mail from my dear friend Natalie, who is also a former colleague, I was happy to know that she too was safe and sound. Although a few streets over, she soon relayed, some of her neighbors were not so lucky. In any event, Natalie is now taking in displaced Kitties who lost their homes and couldn't find their families during the flood. She is already a part of a foster program in her neighborhood that helps strays cats, by getting them to the vet and then finding them a permanent place to stay. But as you can imagine, now circumstances are a little bit different for pets in the area. Natalie does a lot for the community in general and has a lot of things going for her - she is a great person to know and will always do her part to help out… and that goes for Cats too! As a side note Natalie just named one of her recent foster kitties Dawson - I like it!

My Aunt Judy's home went untouched and all in the family were glad of that, she and the rest of my family seemed to have fared well.

Recently I had the opportunity to spend some time with a friend from Nashville who is working on a Documentary, and through that process it brought her through Texas. Being the avid facebooker that I am - that day I noticed that she had just uploaded a photo of Texas' Capitol building here in Austin - of which I work in. I quickly commented on the photo, reminding her that I was in Austin. Later that evening I had the privilege of spending time on Lady Bird Lake (on a bat tour), and having dinner with her, her lovely mother, Nancy, and some of her good friends. Stacie, who is a Jill* (rather than jack) of many trades produced a documentary depicting how hard the region, and her neighborhood of East Nashville had been hit. It was a tremendous piece and throughout the film I noticed how blessed people in Nashville felt. Even though many of them had lost everything - they were happy to be alive and happy to have been showered with so much love and support from their neighbors, friends, and family members. Here is a link to Stacie's film: What you didn't see! By Stacie Huckabe: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4Eu8qdsBvhk

Also, my good friend and fellow Kentucky Colonel, K.C. Winfrey, a teacher in the Nashville city school system, with his wife Gene`, and young son Aspen are also members of the East Nashville community. They, after feeling safe and sound at home quickly hit the streets to lend a helping hand to their neighbors, some I am sure they knew and many I bet they didn't. Just another story of not waiting around for someone else to help get the job done for you, but getting out and making sure it gets done. K.C. and Gene` are always looking for ways to improve this world that we live in and Nashville is better off to have them as a part of the whole.

As I said, I know many people in Nashville. Some that I have not yet talked to about their situation in regards to the recent flooding. I have seen the news coverage and last night I quietly watched the GAC Telethon where the halls were decked with celebrities. All there to raise money for the great city and the great people of Nashville. All the while my heart felt more tender knowing how kind the hearts have been in the streets and neighborhoods of my former home. Little looting has taken place and little complaining either - just a whole lot of hard work, sweat and tears. And to quote Will Hoge, who graced the stage last night as the telethons finale to sing "Washed in the Water," "Nashville is open for business!" His lyrics flowed with meaning and purpose when he sang: "Down here we're washed by the water, but they can't wash us away!"

Nashville has been hit hard folks, and they need any help that they can get. Check out Stacie's video and check out the The Community Foundation's website. If you can spare something - give - they need it! Lend a hand to our friends in Nashville by donating to The Community Foundation of Middle Tennessee at: http://www.cfmt.org/floodrelief/

Hang in there Nashville - you're loved - keep rocking!

Journeys and Adventures

Drifting through the streets of a city that has seen more than I will ever see or be able to understand, I came to know the bliss of being alive. Walls drenched with ivy, whispering out from the past as if to say: "I'm glad you've come." Passing by people and places, knowing that each step had been taken before, by someone else…but not this time. Singing to the tune in my head as I often do, inhaling breaths of jasmine and thanking the heavens for that treat. Louis, you had it right! "What a Wonderful World!"


I think of life as a journey. A journey to the next step, and when you reach the place you were looking for - you stand on that plateau and dream about the next. A journey to this place and that, and then back home, because you always have to go home. I like to think of home so much because I am away from my home. Away from the club houses made of fallen limbs and junk dragged in from here, there and everywhere. Because my memory can recreate home forever more, it makes the time in between not so long. Regardless, I am on a great adventure. An adventure filled with new people, new things, new things to see, to touch, and to feel, new music to tap my foot to and sing along.

Once upon a time me and two of my best buddies found and old seat out of a old car or truck out in the woods near our houses. We dragged that old seat five hundred yards or more, on our way to the perfect spot to set it down. That perfect spot just so happened to be a culvert, built as beautiful as a stone chimney, probably by the WPA or the CCC in the time of our grandparents, we had no idea. Regardless of who built this utilitarian fixture, we thought it was beautiful when we came across it. It over looked what we called a gully and dripped or moved water depending on the time of year through the creek that slithered through our forest. We set up that old teal bench-style seat right on top of that culvert and couldn't wait to see the view from our new grand stand. What a world we could create there in the shade of trees covered with grapevines that we swung on. A place out of a story book. A place where the red fern truly did grow. A place that even today I am not far removed from.

Three boys in three different cities, St. Louis, Shreveport and Austin . I wonder if those boys too remember that place? I bet they do. The sun has risen and set more times than I can count since those days. I am reminded still of the adventure I was on then and the one that I am on now. I wonder if I will ever go back to that specific place? Is it even necessary? Should I replace that pilgrimage with new places, new sites that have yet to be seen by my eyes? I think that is a good idea, at least I will always have the thought of it. Would going back change the whole magnificence of it? Would it be so much smaller and less grand? Would it be broken down or removed? Would a trip back to that place erase such a good memory? Maybe and maybe not! Regardless what the answers to those questions are and no matter what time does to that place, or to me, or to those buddies of mine…that memory is ours. That place and a hundred others belong to our stories. Soon and very so on I hope to see those friends of mine,and when I do I will bring up that culvert made of stone. I will bring up the memories that have popped up in my head today when I thought of that very spot. I would bring them up here but no one else would probably understand…but they will. They will know exactly what I am thinking without much explanation.

A place not too far from Rosedale Lane, East Hall, or 4-H Camp Road …they'll know the place. They might have gone back there too in a memory or a dream over the years.

Mom once had a toll painted sign hanging on a wall in another memory that said: "Home is where the heart is." I think that’s right in many ways, and I am certainly glad that you can take "home" with you when you have to leave. I am so thankful to be able to take "home" with me everywhere I go on this adventure. That stone culvert - whoever built it, Mom and Dad's table with four ladder back chairs - me by the window, trading garbage pail kids cards with my sister on twin beds - in a blue room, of course the smell of Juicy Fruit and Kool cigarettes, iced tea and fresh cherries, pipe smoke and African violets, stories told over and over again. The stories of my life. And I bring up this question myself: am I good enough for all of this? What did I do to deserve all that has been mine?

Years from now if my mind allows me access to these thoughts, if it will let me think of these places, of these people, if I am that lucky then and if I continue to add to this bank of good happenings and wonderful fellowship…I shall be a lucky man to have been able to have my adventure.

I am New Orleans Bound!

I will be out of town for the next few days, on a much needed vacation!  I do plan to come back to the keys with plenty of new ideas and inspiration when I return to Austin. 

All the best,
Jonathon

The Whispers

In the trees there is a whisper.  It is ever so soft and as natural as the leaves that fall from the branches.  This whisper is thrust about the forest, the lawns, the parks.  The branches of the trees throw this voice about like the ball that goes around the horn - one to another - a natural vibration and what does it say?

I like to think about what those trees are saying, what is this endless chatter?  Is it worthy, are their words strong,  would we bind them in leather and paint the edges of their pages gold for the world to see?  Would we put them on shelves and forget them or would we pull them down from time to time to draw strength or wisdom from these whispers. 

I like the music in the wind, and of all the songs and chords I have heard it is the soft, subtle whisper that gets me.  The tones so hard to get to that the beauty is in the tremble of vibrations.  The whistle of the leaves, waving like children waving from bus windows to moms and dads on porches.  The clinging of branches bending and swaying like waves crashing into a vacant shore, creating something that time remembers because it has been so common place.  But, even common things can be spectacular. 

If I were that tree, I would lend my voice to the singing birds, I'd look out for them, I'd be a stop in one their flights, I be words that they can't utter, I'd try be a friend. 

If I were that tree, I would sing my songs to the deer that graze beneath.  I'd praise the owl that calls out to the night, I'd give my trunk to the squirrel to spin around like garland on a banister coming down stairs into a room filled with everything the world is and can be. 

If I were that tree...but I'm not...and I will never be that tree.  Just the same but not.  Since I am not, I would like to contribute to that whisper.  To lend my humble song just in case he should have to go away.  To whisper into the wind if he should decay or be cut down.  Even in this effort I know that he will probably grow taller, grow stronger, he will spread his branches out like arms open wide; over patios, and church yards.He will see everything and that which he cannot see he will ask to the wind to let him know the answers.  He will send his seeds with those birds and those same winds to see more than he can, and eventually he will see everything. 

If that tree makes it farther, if that tree stands on the hillside and looks down on stone that bear my name I will be proud to see that tree. I would be proud for that tree to sing a song for me - but I request it only to be a whisper.  A whisper that tickles the pink furs of the Mimosa and glides across the solid surface of the magnolia.  I hope he will speak of honor!  I hope he will sing so softly that you think that it is me.  If that tree sways and breaks, when the thunder crashes and the lighting opens the night sky like drapes opening on Sunday morning, I will be there when that tree falls.  I will open my eyes when I hear the crash, I will quiver among the wake of this wave and in the wind will go my song, a song for you.  Words too long to write, words that have never been spoken.  Words in piles beside my bed, written by others and read by me.  Words that will change your life because they changed mine.  When the lightning stikes you will find the sweet things that I know and keep, the things you did not know I had or thought of.  You will see kindness as well as crazy, dignity and folly, check stubs that meant nothing and reciepts that meant everything.  Only when the sun rises on this mess will you see that it will be easy to clean up.  Rakes and lops and hands will come and hall this tree away and in the event that I am not there to pick up any of those branches...listen to the whisper of the wind...and that is where I will be.

{Inspired by a recent story - shared not told.  Lovely}