In small towns, Friday nights are special in the fall with the start of football season. As a child, I went to every single game-home and away since my older sister was a cheerleader. I myself was never a cheerleader- dancing and rhythm was not my strong suite, and I was determined to set my own path. These days I feel it takes forever before it’s actually “football” weather. I miss the old stadium. I could stand in my back yard and hear the River City Blue and the announcers. We could walk to the game if we wanted to. Football reminds me, too, that good friends sometimes have to move away.

Homecoming always has a special place in my heart. I can remember running across the street to the Middle School to the Homecoming dances. I loved wearing my mum with the giant Homecoming ribbon. I loved being in the parade. I loved working on homecoming floats.

When we entered high school, primping before home games was essential. The music you listened to was just as important. Cowboy Take Me Away was a favorite of my friends.  In high school, you had goals to achieve at the game, i.e. catching the eye of your favorite guy-where he be on the sideline, in the band, or in the stands. Socializing was a must at the game. After the game, if you were in the Key Club that meant you needed to stay to clean up the parking lot. We acted like we dreaded it, but it was another chance to socialize. Depending on the game, the next day after the game, as a member of Key Club, you were required to clean the stadium!  After the game also meant 5th Quarter at the Baptist Church.

Our hearts were broken the Fall of 02′ with a defeat from UMS Wright. I’d like to think we started the tailgate tradition at DHS since we tailgated before that game. I always think of our team when I hear, We ready (what, what), We ready (what, what), We ready (we ready, we ready) for ya’ll. Redemption was ours the next Fall when we won the state championship but unfortunately for us 03′ seniors we had already moved on to college, work, etc.  There’s some country song that says “Everybody dies famous in a small town” and that’s exactly how high school football is.

Tonight, I’ll go to the stadium and watch the Demopolis Tigers. It won’t be in the same stadium (sigh) but it will still remind me of a time when all that mattered was hanging with friends, flirting with boys, and cheering on your friends. I may even have to listen to Cowboy Take Me Away- here’s to you Beth and MC!

Mom and me at Suttles Truck Leasing, Inc.

  These days you hear a lot of how kids today do not have “soft skills” needed for the workplace. I started working at the age of 14 working occasionally for Omni Sports then on to the Sports Plex where I flipped a few burgers and cleaned bathrooms. One time someone left their cup (protective kind not the drinking kind) in the bathroom. I was so grossed out that I had to get a broom to sweep it in the trash. Talk about soft skills, lol! Scrubbing a few toilets does a teenager good even if he or she doesn’t realize it at the time. However, the place I really learned “soft skills” that would benefit me later in life was at Suttles Truck Leasing.

I started working there around the age of 15 or 16. I first started in my mom’s office-the billing department. I made copies, answered the phone, faxed documents, and filed. An when I say I filed, I filed, and I filed. I even filed for Mr. Ed who worked above the shop. It was hot and the papers were so thin you’d think they were see through. It felt like an eternity filing work orders for truck parts.  I then worked in the Fuel Tax department entering mileage. I had my own phone and desk. I had made it! Not too bad for a 17 year old working part time.  I worked during Spring Break and in the Summer, 40 hours a week, when most of my friends were enjoying sleeping in and lounging at the pool. I wanted to be at home too but knew if I wanted a car, I had to work so I did. I also worked as the receptionist. I came in 15 minutes early each day to make sure Mr. Suttles’ office was in order. I took the mail and sorted it. I paged Harold in the shop when he had a phone call which seemed like every day of my life.

They always helped me too-celebrating my high school graduation and acceptance to UA. The guys in the shop even pulled my car out of the ditch when I pulled to far in the parking lot.  I’m ashamed to say it happened twice but I did bake them cookies. The ladies in the office were like my mom-they were very supportive and cheered me on. I learned how to swing a golf club because of Becky. We’d go after work across the street to the driving range at the Ravine.

It wasn’t until as an adult I realized what all I had learned. I had learned “soft skills”-showing up for work on time (15 minutes early), working when I didn’t feel like it, working with different types of people, etc.  Maybe the best way to learn “soft skills” are from people who really love you and want what’s best for you.  It’s funny how it’s called “soft skills”- the skills you are learning aren’t really all that “soft” at the beginning. They are hard because you are stretching yourself in ways you didn’t know you had in you.  They are necessary. If I had any advice to give “kids these days” is to get a job-even if it’s part time. Go to work when your friends are having fun. Do things that aren’t fun now because later in life they will benefit you- it just may take until your almost 33 to realize it.  Find a first job where the people want you to succeed.

I cannot say enough about the people that I worked with at Suttles. They all in a sense helped raise me and made me the employee I am today (although be it, I’m not perfect). Mr. Suttles was one of the most generous people I knew and was always buying lunch for his employees.  Suttles was a lot like Cheers- everybody knew your name and they were always glad to see you. I miss those people-some are still in town which I am always glad to see, and others have passed on.  I never had a chance to truly say thank you to the people at Suttles or even Mr. Suttles so in a since this is my way.

Thank you!

 I don’t mean to sound sexist as I write this but some of the strongest people I’ve ever known have been women. My grandmother, Winona Rinehart, had to bury a husband and son the same year-in 1990. My grandmother, Faye Hall, worked all of her life (from a kid to an adult) for her family. She made sacrifices so that her kids would have a better life. There’s also my great aunts,  my grandmother Faye’s sisters, who made similar sacrifices- who seemed to always have a sense of humor-especially Aunt Nell. Aunt Nell was one of the best shooters in all of Chilton County but she also knew how to have fun- dancing and singing to old Johnny Cash songs. They handled life with grace. There’s also Chef Melissa, from my days at NorthRiver Yacht Club. She was the Executive Chef.  She was tough and ran a tight ship but knew how to put out some of the best food I’ve ever eaten, not to mention the displays-Southern Living worthy. She worked hard to provide for her daughter and grand baby-even when she was diagnosed with cancer. God I miss these women.

My mom is another-she worked so my dad to go back to college to become a teacher. She constantly puts her family first. With my dad’s eyes, she is the driver in the house. She makes sure he gets to where he needs to go and then some. There’s also my sister-she’s raising 4 kids, works, and still finds time to be the most creative person I know. She’s one of the most selfless people I know.

I know that I am leaving some ladies out. I apologize. I am sure though that you can think of the women that have shaped your existence.  So, on this Mother’s Day weekend, I want to say thank you to the women who’ve made me who I am today. Mother’s Day is for every woman who has impacted someone-where that person be their child or not.

  There’s a special someone in my life who is celebrating their birthday today. She is one of the biggest Alabama fans I know but yet remains at peace with Auburn fans (this can be very hard to do; I should know since I married an Auburn fan, lol). By my birth, I made her an Aunt yet again but I am the lucky one. You see Donna Sue is more than an Aunt, she is like another grandmother to us. When William Michael was born, she spent the night with us  once a month when I had to work late and Will was in school. She’s one of the most selfless people I know-next to Jesus and my mom.  And her laugh- it’s contagious and puts a smile on your face instantly.

She’s our family historian. I could spend countless hours listening to her stories of members I knew and those I did not. There’s pride in her voice as talks about those that have gone on before us. Although, she did not have any children of her own, her nieces, nephews, great nieces, and great nephews became her children. Her happy place is the beach, and I can remember many of a beach trip with her. She’s also the family photographer capturing the many details of our lives that we may have soon forgotten if not for the photographs she takes. Although she has spent a lot of time behind the camera lens, she has always been very much part of our lives and we are forever grateful.

Anyone lucky to have met her and become her friend know just how special she is. So on this very special day, I want to say Happy Birthday and that we love you so very much! I look forward to another night of family stories sitting at my kitchen table with the room filled with your laughter.

Inside every 30 something year old female is a 90’s  and early 2000’s rapper. We grew up riding the main drag (for me-Highway 80) or back roads in our 1990 something year old car listening to words that would make your grandmother blush. And yes we knew all the words from listening to our favorite rap song on repeat, and we still know every word. I think now it is as much as an act of rebellion as it was then. Aw, look at this sweet, innocent 16 year old girl; wait she knows the lyrics to Get Your Roll On by the Big Tymers? Aw, look at this wife with her cute kids, but wait she knows all the words to Magic Stick?

My inner rapper does not always come out but every once in a while, I hear a certain song like No Diggity, and I am transported in time to my Toyota Corolla with the CD player I scrimped and saved for and had installed. My vehicle now doesn’t even have a CD player but it does have XM so I can find some of all my old jams from time to time.  Of course, I reserve this for when I’m alone in my car. It’s great for “me” time.

Ladies, just admit it, you know all the words to your favorite rap song. These songs make me not only reminisce but make me feel powerful that I have not completely changed since becoming a wife and mother-that somewhere deep inside there’s still a girl that can conquer the entire world.

Although you may not find me In Da Club anymore, you can still catch me riding in car occasionally thinking that I’m Still Fly.

I’ve always had a plan for everything that happened in my life. When I met Will (10 years ago on April 7), I knew I was going to marry him that night. I have an album on Facebook titled “1/4 of the Plan” from back then dedicated to my plans with Will (don’t worry, I didn’t make this until AFTER we started dating). Good thing that didn’t scare him off, lol! The fall of my senior year in high school, I had been accepted to the University of Alabama; I had always known I would attend. When I was in DECA in high school I competed in Travel and Tourism, and I knew I would get a degree in Hospitality Management. Okay, so you kind of get the idea, I’m an extreme A-type personality that likes everything to go according to-you guessed it-plan.

However, I find myself in my 30’s in unchartered territory. I feel as though up until my 30’s, life was pretty much a dream (I’m very blessed for that fact).  After my grandmother passed in late 2017, I realized just how short life is. I also now see that my parents ARE getting older. My child is going to Kindergarten in the Fall. There is NO plan that can change or stop any of this. So now how does someone with my personality manage these changes that don’t come with a list to scratch off?

I’m learning ever so slowly (think slower than the a snail), to take life as it comes-literally one day at a time. I’m also learning how to say no to things that I don’t feel I can give 100% which allows me to say yes to more things I love, such as, spending more time with WM and Will, traveling, writing, etc.  I’m learning to be the best version of me. By being the best me, I can be a better mom, friend, daughter, sister, co-worker, etc. The younger me had a huge list that had to be scratched off in order to feel successful. The younger me also felt I had to be everything for everyone. I’m glad to see I’m finally shedding a little bit of her now. A part of her is still there but I just have to keep her at arm’s length.

I’m also learning to trust myself more and be confident in my decisions. It’s a struggle since I am a people pleaser (guess that’s why my jobs have been what they are). I’m going to try to live my life more in the moment and less by a list.

No, I AM going to LIVE my life more in the MOMENT and LESS by a list.

Part of my heart lives in downtown Demopolis. I have always loved downtown Demopolis, from the time I was a kid participating in the Heritage program as an elementary student to more recently when I gave walking tours as part of my previous job as the Chamber Director. There’s something about these old buildings that warms my heart. From the details to the names still on the buildings (think George or McGrath) hinting at the former life of the building.

 Occasionally, I will take my son to the park to see the fish underneath the fountain at the Public Square. If I have a little bit of cash on hand, we stroll over to the Bigbee Humane Society for William Michael to find a toy. Supporting a good cause and making a small child happy equates for a pretty good day. When we cross Walnut Street and walk down Washington Street, I envision what downtown might have looked like when it was booming. Ladies dressed in their very best (in my mind they all look like Holly Golightly from Breakfast at Tiffany’s) with gloves on their hands holding their children’s hands as they visit shop to shop. If it’s anything like going to Wal-Mart on a Sunday, I imagine shopping downtown Demopolis was quite a social event.

The holidays are always magical time, and I am sure downtown Demopolis at Christmas was no different. I can almost picture children peering into stores downtown with their breath fogging up the windows. I am not sure what it is about downtown Demopolis that tugs at my heart but I imagine part of it is the yearning of a simpler time, before cell phones, internet, and social media.

Yet, I know that this was not a simpler time for everyone. My grandmother would always disagree with someone if they referenced “the good old days”.  The good old days were quite harder in terms of living. However, what I believe the “good old days” to be and what downtown Demopolis represents for me is a time in which we spent more time having conversations with each other face to face. Now, as I write this, I can hear my inner voice saying “But you are on social media Ashley.” Yes, I am and have found being on social media can be valuable in doing my job and as a way to share this story, but I guess what I crave is more face to face interaction.

Today, I got to attend a grand opening of a business in downtown Demopolis. It was wonderful. It gave me two things: a new place to visit downtown and face to face human interaction. For an hour, I got to visit with old friends, hug, and have meaningful conversations face to face. Not for a minute did I miss my cell phone or social media.

I guess for me downtown Demopolis for me will always be a place I can forget all my troubles and my cares.

My concert t-shirt from my first concert in 6th Grade

You may be wondering based on the title of the blog what in the world does the band Bush have to do with Easter.  Does the band Bush even exist anymore?  For me, Easter and the band Bush go hand in hand with my childhood. At the age of 11, I got to see my first concert on Easter and as you guessed it, it was the band Bush.

The Easter Bunny delivered not only eggs and candy that year but tickets to go see one of my favorite bands, a very popular one in those late 90’s. I was excited. I had saved a picture of the band out of one of these teeny bopper magazines and had memorized all the band names (don’t ask me now, lol). I had a small crush on Gavin Rossdale.

I remember distinctly that we went as a family and with our neighbors; they had two children around my age. I listened to Bush’s CD Razorblade Suitcase on the way to the concert on a portable cd player that I had to place on the seat ever so carefully to minimize the potential skipping of the CD (my vehicle doesn’t even have a CD player now). I also read over and over again the tiny information that was printed inside the CD sleeve. I was familiar with their first album Sixteen Stone even though I didn’t own it. I think I actually like it more than Razorblade Suitcase.

When we finally arrived at the BJCC, the opening act was Veruca Salt. Quick-what is this band name after? Hint: Spoiled Brat on Willy Wonka. Sorry, I love trivia. When it was finally time for Bush and the lights dimmed, I was excited. I loved seeing the light from the lighters fill the room.  I loved every single minute of their performance. It is something I will never forget and thankful for my parents love of music despite that they probably didn’t like Bush. It was something we could share together. After the concert, I purchased a concert t-shirt to commemorate the experience.

Upon returning the school, I proudly wore my Bush t-shirt with my duck heads and Teva sandals. I felt like the coolest 6th grader for the moment. Now when I attend any concert, I like to think back on my first. I love the power music has to bring all ages and walks of life together.

I’m never alone
I’m alone all the time
Are you at one
Or do you lie
We live in a wheel
Where everyone steals
But when we rise it’s like strawberry fields
If I treated you bad
You bruise my face
Couldn’t love you more
You got a beautiful taste

 William Michael came home from the school the other day and said that one of his girl classmates told him “boys don’t have magic.” I wondered what their conversation had been leading to this conclusion. I’d love to be a fly on the wall to listen to their innocent 4 year old conversations.

This came up again as I was loading the car with groceries from Wal Mart. This time I replied, all kids have magic and are magical. My niece Sidda was with us and she said, “Adults don’t”. I agreed; adults don’t have magic and told her we were boring.  This conversation led me to start thinking about when it is as children we lose our magic.

The magic I am referring to is the ability to use our imagination (making pasta out of dirt as William Michael and Sidda are doing at the moment) or to not have a concern in the world (even when I’m relaxed, there’s always something lurking in the back of mind-maybe that’s just my personality but I think most adults are some what this way-with different extremes). This magic also disregards what others think of us, and we are truly able to be ourselves.

I am jealous of this magic and there are only a few times I thought I was experiencing it but that was only after a number of glasses of champagne. I paid for that magic the next day. I’m not saying that we don’t experience magical moments as adults; what I am saying is that we no longer possess the magic.

When we become parents or even blessed to be around children, we get to witness the magic again-seeing life again for the first time through their eyes. However, I sometimes think we hurry our children along to the next step in life too soon. This leads to a gradual loss of the magic. I could hear myself today in Wal Mart calling after William Michael and Sidda-slow down, pay attention, echoing the sound of a magic-less adult.

Sometimes it’s best if we adults slow down, let them be little (as someone wisely said today). Jump in the mud puddle with them. Be part of the magic show because sooner or later it will disappear.

I rode past your old house today. The yellow house you lived in when I was a kid. I knew you wouldn’t be there but I just wanted to be back for just one more day with you.  I visited your grave the other day and remembered that it had not been that long ago, we walked together discussing your plans to buried there. At that time, I thought  how much time we would have together before that EVER happened. Boy, was I wrong.

I dreamt I walked passed a woman that looked just like you. I turned around and it was not you. I talk to you in my head willing for a sign from you. I know you are there, watching from above, but I’d give anything for a gust of wind, a butterfly, or something that indicates your presence.

At night, during my routine, I sometimes stop and inhale my jar of Pond’s before applying it to my face while picturing yours.  When I visit Paw Paw and go to the bathroom, I take a squirt of Jergen’s lotion and inhale. I look around at all of your things still in the same place and sigh.

I will be forever grateful for the stories you told me; they keep you alive. I know you are glad to be home with your sisters, mother, and the rest of your family. I can’t help but think about that Tom Petty song Southern Accents.

For just a minute there I was dreaming
For just a minute it was all so real
For just a minute she was standing there, with me

My niece’s picture of her with my grandmother and son. She drew this about a month after my grandmother passed.