What do you get when you mix a people-pleaser, self-doubter, over-analyzer, and a perfectionist? You get, well… me. I should also add that I don’t like confrontation and making mistakes. Also, I enjoy being creative, and I like to set my sights high in terms of my potential in leadership roles. My expectations are sometimes unrealistic especially when it’s the first time I try something (In my mind, I should be able to do it right the first time, every time regardless of it being the first time). So, how does this affect my day to day existence and work life?
Some days, the creative side takes over and the feeling that I can accomplish anything is exhilarating. Other days, the self-doubter and over-analyzer takes over and trashes my every thought or motivation. These days I feel like I re-read and re-read emails before hitting send or I hesitate on making an important call (playing the conversation over and over in my head, imagining what the other person might say). When the people-pleaser side comes into play, I apologize for things that aren’t really my fault and my feelings may get hurt when the other person doesn’t seem as happy with my work or what I’ve said as I think they should be.
It’s exhausting being on this ferris wheel ride I’ve created for my life. I realize there are things I need and can do to minimize these feelings. I know I should take time for myself. I know I should pray and have quiet time. I know I should reach out to a friend to talk. Why, though, do I not always do what I would tell a dear friend to do? Why do I choose to remain in the land of self-doubt some days? I am a thief of my own joy. I steal away moments that should be precious, moments with my spouse, children, with self-sabotaging thoughts about what happened at work or a conversation I had with someone.
When you see me, I will do my best on these days to have a smile on my face. You see I wear a mask. A mask that says I’m okay and I’ve got it all figured out but underneath, I’m like the rest of world, just trying to figure it out while raising two kids and working.
So, when you read this, please don’t pity me. I’m not unhappy. I know that I’m blessed or as my favorite car tag says “Too blessed to be stressed.” I just want you to know that you’re not alone if you are having the same feelings. I’m with you friend, and I just want to know that you are there with me too. I don’t care who you voted for, the color of your skin, where you are from, or anything that makes us seemingly different. I really don’t think you and I are that different. I think you have your uncertain moments like I do. Maybe you have a little bit of anxiety too. Let’s choose two things- love and grace.Let’s love one another and give each other grace (none of us are perfect).
Just know that I love you, and I give you grace to make mistakes and to keep trying. Just know I’m trying my best every day to love me and to give myself grace.
When I rushed in 2003 at the University of Alabama one hot week in August, there were no #OOTDs, Tik Tok, or social media for that matter. Facebook wasn’t invented for another two years. At the time I didn’t even know what Old Row was (found out after I joined a sorority). I didn’t know a lot about what it meant to be a sorority at UA. I had an older friend from back home that helped me navigate recs from the ladies in our hometown that had been in sororities. She also warned me about door songs and gave me some ideas on what to wear for each day. Thanks, Megan, for your help! A lot of my #OOTD would have gone something like this, “my dress is from the Limited or gasp from Cato’s, my shoes are hand me downs from my sister, and my pearl earrings (my favorite) were a graduation present from the ladies I worked with in high school.
One thing I struggled with was that in just a week’s time I was supposed to be able to find a sorority that I could call home. I didn’t think a week was long enough for me to make some magical connection with complete strangers. Most of my best friends I had known since 2nd grade. Still, I was intrigued and as the week went on and I went through the process of selecting houses or houses dropping me as I must have not fit their criteria (whatever that was-maybe they spotted a CATO tag on one of my OOTD’s). I witnessed some girls fall apart when a house dropped them. I never felt devastated when a house dropped me because I really did not know what to expect during this process (ignorance is bliss).
At the end of week, I had three houses for serious night (now called preference night). I knew from orientation this meant I would get a bid. If you had less than 3 you weren’t guaranteed a bid. I also knew they discouraged suiciding. Suicide is what happens when a girl puts only one house down at the end of Series Night which may lead to no bid. I was happy with the remaining 3 houses. During Serious Night, you are to reflect on what house you think is best for you and where you want to spend your college career. I noticed a lot of girls going through rush crying at this event. I guess they had found their place, but I still didn’t feel like I had made that serious of a connection yet.
Finally, I get to the DZ house, and meet Lindsay Beth. I ask her if we have to talk so seriously. She laughed, and said “No.” As we talked further, I realized I found someone I could actually connect with and talk to beyond the “Where are you from?” “Where’s that?” “Do you live in Tut?” Through my rush process, I always threw people off with answers to these questions because 1). No one knew where Demopolis was or really had even heard of it. 2). I lived in an apartment. It was as though their programmed, well-rehearsed responses did not fit in my narrative.
The next day I received a bid from DZ. As girls ran screaming from Bryant Denny, I walked nervously to the DZ house. DZ had not been my first choice, but I was not disappointed. I was just nervous because there was no one from my home town, which was also kind of freeing as you get to meet new people. As rounded the corner, headed to the DZ house, I spotted her holding my name. It was Lindsay Beth from the night before! Relieved, I joined her at the house, so glad to see a familiar face!
We became instant friends and she became my big sister in the sorority. I had accidentally found my home. When I wasn’t sure how to find it, it found me and with the the help of a special person, Lindsay Beth. She is one of the kindest and most non -judgmental people I know. She welcomed me with open arms and still remains a dear friend of mine.
I’m thankful for no social media during my time rushing UA. I am thankful connections were made genuinely and that in going through I didn’t pressure myself to be something I wasn’t. I am glad I didn’t decide I had to have certain Greek letters to guarantee my happiness. Most of all, I am thankful for Lindsay Beth.
My sorority family- from left to right, my twin Sarah (see previous Blog about Sarah), me (check out that pink spaghetti strap tank- it was the early 2000’s), Lindsay Beth (Big Sister), and Rachel (Lindsay Beth’s Big Sister) Before social media and a camera on your phone, we had Zaps.
I stood in my parents’ kitchen yesterday as we discussed the latest COVID-19 news and other things happening in the world. Frustrated would be one way to describe how both my parents and I feel at the moment. As we were hashing out the news, it occurred to me that one of the reasons I write a lot about my childhood is that it appeared to be a simpler time than now. However, there really is nothing “new under the sun”; good and bad have always existed. It really just comes down to the fact that we didn’t have as much access to information as we do now. Sadly, I sometimes long for not having the access we have; ignorance really is bliss. Yesterday’s conversation also got me thinking about what lessons I learned growing up as a Rogers. I decided I’d share 10 lessons (even though there are more) I learned growing up with my parents. I’ll try to note which parent I learned what lesson. Hopefully, it will be a good reminder to us all that no matter what circumstances are in the world, it’s important to lean on our family values and what we know to be true, a solid foundation. I also should note alot of these lessons were taught by my parents being an example in how they live and show to love to others.
“Give me Gravy”, part of this Blog’s title is a lesson from my dad. It is rooted in the lesson of being assertive in order to get what you want. We were in the drive thru line at the old Hardees ordering breakfast. When asked what I wanted, I hesitated. My entire life I have always been worried about pleasing others and sometimes to my detriment. My dad turned from the passenger seat and said, “Ashley, if you want a gravy biscuit, say it. Say “Give Me Gravy!”
“To make friends, you must be a friend” comes from my mom. I was extremely shy as an adolescent but yearned to have friends. In middle school, my mom helped by making the process of making friends simple; speak to one new person a day. This seemed manageable and at the end of my career at Demopolis Middle School, I knew everyone including the support staff. One of my favorite people at DMS from this experience was Mr. Barry James. He always had a smile on his face.
“Don’t be quick to judge others”-this lesson came from both parents. From looking back at journals and thinking about my life, a lot of my lessons came as a young teenager. Middle school seems to be the age where kids are categorized by groups-some by their choosing but a lot of it decided by their peers. My parents always reminded me that there was more to a person than what his or her appearance was, and you really didn’t know what their life really was like. This lesson leads into the next one.
“Treat others as you would like to be treated”, the old Golden Rule, again from both parents. In Southern terms, you “attract more flies with honey than with vinegar”.
“Accept others’ differences”- a lesson from both parents but a lot of discussion on this topic with my dad. This lesson really is a culmination of lessons 3 and 4. By learning to see beyond a person’s appearance and treating them with respect, I was able to learn more about that person, learning similarities and differences along the way. By accepting people’s differences, I was able to make friends with all kinds of people. From this experience, I have gotten to be friends with some of the most interesting people of all ages and backgrounds.
“It is better to look good than to feel good”, a lesson from my mom. Sometimes, when we aren’t feeling are best (where it be physically, emotionally, etc.), it’s important to put on something we feel confident in and face the day. By the end of the day, most of the time, your mood has shifted and you start feeling good!
“Exercise, eat right and take care of yourself”, a lesson from both parents but a lot from my dad (the 68-year-old man that still exercises like crazy and is on no medication). The lesson really hit home several years ago when I was struggling with miscarriages and high blood pressure (from the stress of it all). I also learned that I was pre-diabetic. As I sat in the swing at my parents’ house with bandages from blood work and feeling deflated, my dad simply asked “What are you going to do about it?” I knew I had the start eating better and exercising.
“Don’t take yourself too seriously”, a lesson from my mom. My mom and I are so much alike. She, too, is a recovering “worrier”. Over time, I’ve seen her develop into a confident woman and less of worrier than when I was a kid (maybe us growing up helped, not sure).
“Buy the damn X (insert here what you want”- this lesson is from my dad. I struggle sometimes with self-care and doing things for myself. A lesson in empowerment again on getting what you want and not feeling guilty. Of course, there’s a line and you don’t want to go crazy -live within your means but my God treat yourself sometimes!
“Seek the truth”- a lesson from my dad. The award for the most objective man in this world goes to…Mike Rogers. He is able to look at any situation and look at both sides. He seeks the truth in everything and has encouraged his children to do the same. This is a powerful lesson, especially in these times as it’s hard to see what the truth really is but you’ll know it when you see it, if you don’t feel it in your heart and gut first.
I hope these lessons help you to see what’s really important. In the end, all we can do is take care of what’s right in front of us- our family and loved ones. Choose love and when necessary, turn the music up.
It must have been the 2nd or 3rd week in school my Freshman year at Bama when I met Sarah. We happened to be at the DZ house at the lunch at the same time one day. I noticed that she seemed a little shy so I stuck out my hand and introduced myself and asked if I could sit with her. From there, our friendship began. Sarah is tall (but who isn’t compared to my 5’1″ self) and from Birmingham. She has a very easy going personality. She has a deep, affecious laugh. She played classical guitar when we met. I think we both like Led Zepplin if I am remembering correctly. I’m not sure what her thoughts were when a short, brunette from a town she’d never heard from approached her. I imagine I sounded as country as cornbread as they say. Nonetheless, we accepted each other’s quirks and differences.
I also remember Sarah had an innocence about her. Once, in Wendy’s, we were talking with friends about let’s just say not so lady like things (grant me grace as I was 18 and out on my own for the first time). In order to explain what we referring to, we drew stick figures on a napkin. I wish I still had that napkin! It was hilarious, and I am sure we embarrassed Sarah but she laughed it off.
We always used to sing the 80’s song Sara to her but could never remember all the lyrics so we’d just sing “Sara, Sara…” We also loved the song Josie by the Outfield. Anytime it came on at party, we stop and belt out “I don’t want to lose your love tonight”(emphasis on tonight if you were singing it right!)
Sarah and my dance moves were questionable to say the least. We mastered the art of trying to look at cool at fraternity swaps by holding a solo cup in our hands. Let’s just put it this way- our sorority colors are pink and green and well, we fit more in the green color than pink. Girly, I’d say we aren’t and that’s probably why became friends instantly. We were surrounded by cheerleaders, Crimsonettes, door songs, and other girly things I’ve never been good at. Whatever, the reason, I thank God led me to Sarah.
We also shared the same big sister in our sorority. We still refer to each other as “twin” even at 36. The three of us were and are still close.
To say I am proud of her is a big understatement. In the last few years, she moved to Seattle to leave her comfort zone behind to pursue big things. She’s also learning how to backpack and hike in challenging situations and just recently came back from Alaska. Now days the only backpacking I do is scrambling to get one ready for my kid to get to school. Her pictures are breathtaking on these trips, and I believe she has a natural talent. I cannot wait to see where it takes her. I’m sure I’ll have guests over one day and they will be like, have you ever heard of Sarah and I’ll be like, “Yeah, she’s my best friend and twin.”
She has a heart of gold. She called me today to catch up. I’m grateful for anytime to talk to her and hoping to make a trip to Seattle one day to see her. One thing remains true of our friendship, no matter the distance or time that passes, when we talk I still feel like we are getting ready for a swap, hanging out at my apartment, or hitting up the 24 hour diner at Paty after a night out. Thanks Sarah for being my friend for 18 years! Look forward to the next 18 and more!
Make sure when you are singing this song to emphasize “tonight” in honor of my friend Sarah. She’d appreciate it. Our last photo together almost 2 years ago before she moved to Seattle. I was expecting my 2nd boy, Anderson.
Disclosure: I am not sure the correct pronunciation of this beer. Please note that my granddad tends to appreciate a good dirty joke so if you are easily offended, pass this blog entry on by.
I believe it was when he was serving in the army and was stationed in Michigan that my granddad first heard of Griesedieck™ beer. When he began to tell the story, a shy grin spread across his face. I don’t remember exactly what he said but mentioned that his buddy had requested this beer one night while they were at a bar. The woman working told them, “Oh yeah, we’ve got those in a cooler in the back.” He’s told this story numerous times because my dad and aunt were both familiar with the story. You can imagine how he pronounced it when he told the story hence why the shy smile came across his face as I imagined him looking every time he told the story- from the time he left the bar in Michigan in 1950-something to now in 2021.
He confessed he never tried the beer, and I just laughed and said, “It doesn’t sound too good, does it?”, playing along with his inside dirty joke. Now, I can’t seem to get this beer out of my head. I had decided I would try to find it so that he and I could try it for the first time together and have our own inside joke. I found it online and unfortunately, it cannot be shipped to Alabama! However, it continues to plague my mind. if only I could just get a six pack or one for that matter. I fantasized about it being a memory we would share together even if we just took one sip each and laughed afterwards. From my research, this beer is brewed out of St. Louis, Missouri and has a very interesting history. Here is the link in case you are interested- http://www.gb-beer.com/.
With the 4th of July just three days ago, it got me thinking about the words, pursuit of happiness. What did our founding fathers have in mind when the wrote the Declaration of Independence? I find the phrase The Pursuit of Happiness to be purely objective and maybe that’s what they had in mind when they wrote these words. I again got to thinking about my granddad and what his pursuit of happiness might have looked like when he was a child, a teen, a young adult, and now as an old man. What did my own pursuit of happiness look like? Was I pursuing it or just daydreaming about?
I think overtime our pursuits change as our priorities change. For my granddad, what may have been important sitting at that bar in Michigan, may have been replaced with just getting through the day to day without the love of your life by his side. I find I am my happiest when I’m with my family as I once thought I wanted to live in Washington D.C., far away from them.
For now, I will continue to dream up ways to get my granddad a six pack of Griesedieck™ Beer and to help him find a new pursuit of happiness. I am headed to Nola later in the week and maybe just maybe, I’ll find some.
I found this picture the other day of my granddad and me. I think I was 3. I told him the other day we are going to recreate it- just got to find a dress like this for a 36 year old. My granddad still wears his work uniforms everyday.
Every memory I have of the 4th of July as child on up to early teens in my small town of Demopolis involved my dad’s rock and roll band playing at one of the band member’s house. This particular band member lived by the river and his home was a perfect spot to watch the fireworks. Dad’s band was the unofficial band of the town’s annual 4th celebration Freedom on the River. It was understood that if you were headed down to the river to watch the fireworks that earlier in the evening, dad’s band Breakaway would be performing. Cars would pull in the empty lots (were practice ball fields when I was kid) in front of Commissioner’s Street to park, watch the band, and catch the Fireworks at the end of the night. One thing that stands out in mind was the freedom we had as kids to wonder down toward the park by the city landing and around that area before returning back to the general vicinity of the band playing. It goes back to the whole it takes a village to raise a kid. Demopolis has and had plenty of good people that knew who you were even if you didn’t know them so mamas didn’t really have to worry too much about us acting out. The town would let your mama know if you misbehaved or yikes, if it was a close family friend, they had full rights to discipline you.
When I was in middle school, I remember sitting in a swing with close friends as we listened to one of them talk about his upcoming move to Arizona. It was devastating that one of us was moving and across the US! I also remember trying to pick out a sundress to wear for the occasion. Like I said, this was not just my dad and his friends but it was the whole town’s event. Who knew who you might see and if it happened to be that guy, you didn’t want to be caught dead in just a pair of shorts and t-shirt!
The fireworks! Oh, how I loved the fireworks. As they lit up the sky, you could see boats scattered along the Tombigbee, and I loved the picture they painted against our town’s water tower. The world seemed to stop when they started. It was as if there was an unspoken rule that everyone understood. There was no talking during the performance except for an “ooh or ah” and clapping. After the show, as customary at each performance, a recording of Lee Greenwood’s Proud to be an American would play on cue and again, silence. Silence for respect of those that made the ultimate sacrfice. Goosebumps would inch across my arm as I thought how special it is to live in the USA. After the song would end, the designated guy (not sure how he knew) would yell “Free Bird” or something to signify for the band to start playing again. The band would play a final set that included crowd favorites, such as, Play that Funky Music by Wild Cherry or Gimme Three Steps by Lynyrd Skynryd. The crowd didn’t seem to want the band to stop playing for they had finally started dancing.
Now, another 4th approaches. Not sure if the baby will stay awake long enough for the fireworks or if he will even like them. My dad will pick up his guitar and play the classics and some new hits. I’ll pretend to know how to sing but at least I’ll know all the words from being a band groupie all these years! A new star will take stage as my nephew sings. Goosebumps will inch across my arm as I am grateful to live in the US and grateful for another 4th of July with my family. Happy Birthday America!
You won’t find their scores in a record book and to my knowledge, none of them furthered their hoop dreams beyond that of their circle. You see, as grandchildren we tend to not see past the person our grandparents are in the present timeframe. As you will learn from the Heiberger Hula Hotshots, there is always more to the story but we have to ask, dig. I had always put my grandfather in a box in my mind that was consisted of things like-he wears old work uniforms every day, he likes chitlins, and loves a good dirty joke. I’m ashamed to admit that beyond that, I didn’t really know much about my grandfather or as we affectionately call him “Paw Paw Red”. Now, he did tell us stories of his truck driving days that I enjoyed, but I didn’t think much about him being a kid. Heck, he’s been an old man my whole life. Shame on me for being 36 years old and finally realizing there was so much more beyond the old man with the hat that sat above his head (not actually on it).
Now back to the Hotshots. In my determination and slight manipulation to learn more about Paw Paw Red, I asked him what his favorite dessert was, peach cobbler. I made and brought the peach cobbler over in hopes to get him thinking and talking about the old days. What happened next, I could not have imagined. I caught a glimpse of a teenager.
Herbert Eugene “Red” Hall dropped out of school in 6th grade and two short years later, boarded a Greyhound bus for Houston, Texas where his brother lived. On the way, at a stop, the 14-year-old found a wristwatch in the restroom, one of the nicest wristwatches he had ever seen. For fear of what might happen if he took it, the boy left it for someone who would probably not be as honest to find. In Houston, he worked in a paint shop where his brother worked. Three years passed, and he began to miss his friend, Tom. Now, at 17, he made his way back to Heiberger in Perry County, Alabama. He was reunited with his friend Tom, and they began to play basketball with other friends. Thus, the Heiberger Hula Hotshots were born. These group of friends would load up and ride in the back of pickup trucks to play basketball against friends in neighboring Hale County. I imagine most of these boys were cut from the same cloth as my granddad- hardworking but with minimal income, having to work on the land, building things from their hands (Red built a barn at age of 12 and helped his dad build the house they lived in), true blue-collar. I’m fairly certain the hotshots didn’t have a uniform as they were not sanctioned. I like to imagine them in jeans or overalls and some even playing in brogans. Being the jokester he is, I imagine Red led the boisterous smack talk.
Now, I never imagined my grandfather playing any sport, much less basketball but here I was sitting in his kitchen to find out that not only had he played as a kid, but they had made up a nickname for their rag tag team as well. I asked him to repeat their name Heiberger Hula Hotshots over and over again to make sure I had heard correctly. Since learning of the Hotshots, it got me thinking. Were there any other Hotshots still living? I want to reconnect Paw Paw Red with an old friend. I know it’s a long shot since many of his friends probably have passed but if you are reading this and have any connections to old Heiberger, let me know.
The Hotshots were not a winning NBA team or even a school sanctioned team for that matter. They were so much more. They were an escape for a 17-year-old boy and also, a window for a granddaughter into her grandfather’s soul.
I’ll have to keep digging to see if I can find a picture of my granddad as a kid. I love his pose in this picture on the car and the cigarette.
I don’t come from a long line of tall people. In fact, most of the women I admire in my family shrink with age. It’s almost as if it’s a right of passage. For instance, my great aunt Nell was probably 4 feet 10 when she passed. God, I miss that woman. She was a spitfire. She used to sing old Johnny and June Cash songs with her boyfriend Dewey (her husband had passed many years prior). They’d sing to the top of their lungs in a key that most of us didn’t even know existed. She laughed. She lived. I even saw Jesus one time when I was with her in Chilton County. We were all riding around (aunts, grandmother, dad, her). We looked up and there was a man in what looked like to be dressed in a white robe and had long hair walking in the distance. When we saw him, she said, “I always knew Chilton County was God’s country.” There you go. If Aunt Nell said it, it must be true, and we all saw him! Since, I’m 5 foot 1, I think I am headed in the right direction- shrink a few inches and don’t give a hoot about what other people say.
I’ve been given a gift, the gift of time. Time to spend with my kids, time to write, time to cook. I don’t know what’s going on with me. I have made a dessert every weekend for 4 weekends straight, adding a fifth today-lemon tarts. Maybe, I’m becoming the Southern woman I’ve always been meant to be. Now, I’m not crazy. I can’t whip something up; I have to read instructions but it’s been so satisfying to see something from start to end and that I’ve created. If it’s a fruit, you best bet, I’m gonna figure out how to cook it. Thank God for Google.
With God’s gift of time, I’ve decided to spend once a week with my granddad- ask questions, learn. Give him my time which at this point in his life and even mine is important. I don’t know where this journey will lead us. I just learned recently about a candy dish he won at a cake walk when he was 8. He still has it. And the green bowl, he cooks his eggs in every morning, it was his mother’s. He estimates she had in the 1920’s. These things are important to him. He has a story to tell, just like the rest of us. It will be my job to tell his.
What we choose to do with our time will eventually reveal who we are in the end.
I hope how I choose to use mine helps someone- if not today, down the road. I hope they remember that how we measure someone cannot be defined in height, looks, status or size but by the impact they had on others.
Another year, another year older. This year, I decided to list 35 things that have happened to me- some I’m proud of or hold fond memories, others not so much (more of a learning experience). Note: Some of these correlate with my actual age, a date, and something I just happened to think of. I’ll note on the post
1. I turned 1 on June 22, 1986. 35 years later, the 80’s feel like they were only 20 years ago.
2. When I think of the number 2, it reminds me of the 2 miscarriages I had before we had Anderson. It was sad and frustrating. It tested my faith but with a strong support system, we kept moving forward. Ladies, don’t ever think you are the only one and that it’s your fault. God’s just making a way for something better!
3. I don’t know what I’d choose if I had 3 wishes. I’d like to think I’d just give them to someone who really needs them. I don’t think I do.
4. My sister’s 4th child Sidda is like a daughter to me. She’s spent many a night with us.
5. My 5th birthday was at our house with a slip and slide. The cake even had a slip and slide on it. Friends from the Strawberry Patch (daycare) attended. In true Southern fashion, I wore a giant yellow bow in my hair with my bathing suit.
6. For my 6th birthday, I had my first sleepover with friends Kristy and Brandi.
7. My sister’s birthday is December 7. What a blessing to have a best friend and sister all in one!
8. I picked up my first softball at age 8 and retired years later at 14, when I decided to pick up a phone and call boys. I didn’t pick up another ball until my oldest was playing T-Ball.
9. I think I was 9 and the year was 1993 when I got my first diary. I kept a diary until 2002 and then revisited writing in 2017 in the form of this blog when my grandmother passed away.
10. The number 10 was my jersey number in softball because of Chipper Jones, the cutest ball player I’d ever seen who played for the Atlanta Braves.
11. In true Are You there God, it’s me Margaret fashion, I became a woman at 11. I was so disappointed. I wanted it to go away. Lucky for me it was in the summer and not at school.
12. I was 12 years old when I got my first real kiss. Ironically, it happened across the street from where I live now.
13. The same summer of the surprise party as noted below, I experienced my first broken heart as my first love moved away.
14. My parents and friends surprised with me with a birthday party when I turned 14.
15. I celebrated me passing my permit test with lunch at Dairy Queen in Linden.
16. I went to take the driver’s test on my 16th birthday. I failed the eye exam because I didn’t know I needed new contacts. I was embarrassed when people asked if I had my license. I finally got new contacts and passed the test a few days later NOT on my actual birthday.
17. At 17, I flew for the first time to Salt Lake City. I also was baptized surrounded by friends and family. I remember one of my friends coming to support me. Thanks Emily!
18. On June 18, 2020, Anderson had his first surgery to remove the blockage on his left kidney. It was 3 agonizing hours as I waited alone (due to COVID, Will could not come in until after we were in a room). I take that back, I wasn’t completely alone, the sound of other mothers waiting in other rooms lessened the loneliness.
19. I was 19 when Ben, my sister’s oldest came into the world. In a lot of ways, he is like me (I’m sorry Ben!) but I am so proud of him. Ben, keeping being you!
20. What I thought was a very adult relationship at the time, ended with us both cheating on each other. The first time and last time I ever cheated on someone. One of those relationships you knew wasn’t right but for some reason you stayed with them until it finally didn’t make any sense (like a brick hitting you over the head).
21. I graduated college at 21 and started my first big girl job as a Banquet and Catering Assistant for NorthRiver Yacht Club. I was hourly and thought I had made it when they finally agreed to get me business cards. My first few weddings I got under my belt was at this age.
22. I experienced another heartbreak- one I wasn’t sure I’d recover until I met my now husband.
23. When I turned 23, Will and I celebrated our birthdays together for the first time. He turned 27.
24. Will proposed to me 2 days after Valentine’s Day when I was 24. When the holiday passed, I thought, is he ever going to ask the question. He surprised me!
25. I was 25 when I got married. We were surrounded by all of our favorite people. One of the best days of my life.
26. Will was 26 going on 27 when he met me. Now, he’s the big 4-0! He’s going to kill me for posting this.
27. I got my first promotion and was actually over a department at the age of 27. I became the Membership Director of NorthRiver Yacht Club. I had my own budget to monitor and my own office.
28. I had my first child at 28.. After leaving the hospital thinking we’d have to wait longer, my water broke in our car at the red light at DCH. We had to make a quick U-turn.
29. As Bear Bryant once famously said about coming to UA, Mama callled. I was ready to move back to my hometown. So thankful I did.
30. We celebrated my 30th birthday and dad’s birthday in true Rogers style, complete with our favorite band Mojo Trio. Days later we lost a friend, a musical inspiration, Mr. Joey. Although, I didn’t know him as well as my dad, I still was saddened to hear of the news. Music lost a great guitarist.
31. I have always enjoyed Halloween. My oldest son’s first Halloween he dressed as a member of Lolly Pop Guild from the Wizard of OZ, a costume made by his Nana. I will never forget how cute he looked.
32. My grandmother gracefully left us when I was 32. I began writing again to deal with the grief. I spoke at her funeral, something I could have never imagined doing but it was important to her.
33. At the age of 33, we began the journey to conceive our 2nd child. It was full of bumps, tears, finger pricks, and blood pressure cuffs but you know the happy ending.
34. I gave birth to our caboose and rainbow baby. Days later we started his kidney journey.
35. At the age of 35, I decided with Will’s blessing to work part time and take a job I love.
36.
I intentionally left 36 blank because it’s a new year. Celebrating in a few weeks in New Orleans. Who knows? Maybe I’ll hold a baby alligator or try that flight of champagne I’ve seen on my instagram. Hopefully, we will potty train Anderson. Can’t wait to see what’s in store.
He or she is at every school in every town across America. You know her and as you are reading this, her name will come to mind. Although, looking back a lot of who this person was I created in my own mind. The popular kids or who we perceive to be popular are that by either birthright, the street they lived on, or a fairy Godmother some of us never seemed to possess. The birthright part is tricky because I have an older sister I consider to have been very popular but I am not sure that even though I was a legacy, that her popularity was passed down to me as I made my way down the halls of Demopolis Middle School. By now, the song Popular by the Butthole Surfers is playing in the soundtrack of your mind.
She had light brown hair with highlights from a summer at the pool and her eyes were hazel. Hell, who can compete with Hazel against my plain, brown eyes? When she walked by, guys stopped and noticed. She exuded so much confidence-it’s as if nothing bothered her. Her clothes were of the latest trends and from the most fashionable place in town – The Perfect Touch-down to the Birks on her feet. I looked down at my own clothes.
If you were of the betting type, you knew for sure, she would be elected to whatever was being voted on- whether it was as silly as who’s going to take money to the office for the teacher or “Best Dressed, Figure, etc.”.
Her ladies in waiting were always by her side-popular by default or appointment. I’d like to think that most were true friends to her, but I knew that some were looking for any opportunity to knock her off the throne.
A lot of decisions made in middle school were made with sound, reasonable judgment by answering two to three simple questions. The answers were actually what YOU thought she’d answer not reality.
What would she think?
Would she wear that?
Is she going?
You see, being your own person wasn’t quite in. And, oh the pressure to be something you know deep down you would never be.. it was exhausting. I knew, too, that I would never be able to ignore the beat that kept playing in my head, challenging me to seek my own path, the one less traveled, the one most kids did not even know existed or were too afraid to take.
One day she spoke to me. What do I do? Do I bow, curtsy? My brain said, “Speak dummy!” I said “Hi!”. And as the years went by, I began to realize that the popular girl, the band girl, or whoever was just like me. We were all trying to find our place in the world. We all had our own hopes and fears. We all wanted to be accepted for who we are.
I learned the importance of being a friend and accepting others for their differences. Widening my circle, being inclusive. Now, as an adult, I realize now more than anything, we still need to accept others for their differences, invite them to our table. For, we all have been the girl or guy who didn’t feel like they didn’t quite fit in and wondered if our existence mattered to someone.
Spoiler alert to the kids out there, popularity is only a myth we’ve created in our mind as to what we feel we have to do be accepted, to belong. In truth, no of us are popular. We are just trying to make it like the rest of the human race. Choose to be a friend over status.
The Peach 