All of my life I have enjoyed being part of clubs both social and academically. In high school, I was a member of almost every club available and can boast that I, Ashley Rogers Coplin, was President of the High School Beta Club and a State Officer for DECA. Okay, so maybe by you reading this, you have made a couple of assumptions about my personality and some you would guess correctly. I am “A” type. I do like order and lists and thrive off a “perceived” since of control. As life goes on, you begin to realize that you have no control in the end.
Recently, I became a member of a different kind of club. One that no ever wants a membership to but sometimes, it’s part of your life’s journey. The “C” Club is unique in that it does discriminate who it invites- age, sex, nationality, race, etc. At 36, I am considered to be young for the type of membership I’ve been initiated into.
I debated sharing this on my blog and social media. However, I feel that if I can help someone if they become a member of this club than it will have been well worth it to share. What I can say about the members of this club- they are strong, supportive, and willing to share their story. They’ve provided a comfort knowing that I have someone I can ask questions, seek advice, etc. I also didn’t realize just how many have experienced what I’m going through and are members of this club.
I am learning to accept our club’s color pink. Even though, I’ve always prided myself as being more of a tomboy and often stayed away from this color. My colors have never been blush and bashful. However, there’s power in pink and what it represents so I’ve embraced it.
My biggest challenge in this journey is learning to lean on others for help. I am stubborn. I have also learned to let go and let God. In a strange way, being a member of this club has freed me from my normal worries (now seem so petty). Occasionally, I think back to before the diagnosis and part of me wants to mourn the weeks and months prior to all of this. I take a deep breath and realize that this part of my journey will only make my life so much better, better than before. I will be a better person, wife, mother, friend. I can slow down and take it all in.
To my friends and family, all I can say is “wow!” Your love and support is amazing and overwhelm me with gratitude when I think about it. I feel like George Bailey at the end of “It’s a Wonderful Life”. Clarence reminds us that “No man is a failure who has friends.” Your texts, phone calls, hugs, and encouragement will get me through all of this. Thank you! Thank you from the bottom of my heart.
Also, now that I’m officially a member. I want to normalize the word “cancer”. It’s tough to hear and say out loud at first but it’s part of my journey. I am not going to be afraid to say the word “cancer” out loud. I have breast cancer. I will fight this cancer. I will get better.
I am at home today with my children for inclement weather from Hurricane Ida. I’ve seen a lot of posts of pictures of kids crouching in the halls during bad weather with captions referring to how we handled weather then vs. now. Seeing the kids in the hallways got me thinking about my view of school as a young teenager in the late 90’s. So, I thought I’d share some things that would have made you want to sing, It was a Good Day by Ice Cube, or if it was a bad day maybe turn to Alanis Morrisette’s famous album Jagged Little Pill or Green Day’s Nimrod to help with your teen angst.
I can always remember these weather drills because it never failed, I was sure to be wearing a dress or a skirt. With my bottom in the air, I always feared my underwear would be showing. It felt like the longest 10 minutes of my life. I’m not sure any of us enjoyed being in this position for periods of time except if you happened to be by a friend and could sneak in some conversation but teachers would constantly yell “Keep your head down; no talking!” Safety first, right?
Some days’ success could be measured by what the lunchroom was serving. If it was 1996 and you found yourself at U.S. Jones Elementary School, you had two options “Meat 1” and “Meat 2”. These options were laminated for you to present to the lunchroom worker (not having the option to view before making your careful selection). Sometimes to your detriment, what you thought sounded good did not look good but once you were line there was no turning back. For a lot of kids, Crispitos or affectionately called “Crispy Toes” were a favorite. Crispitos could turn around a bad morning. Sadly, Tyson is cancelling this old fan favorite leaving some of us who still work in education singing Say it ain’t so!
Becoming a woman is something that is to be embraced as you enter middle and high school. However, each of us enters this joyous (yeah right!) occasion at different times. If you believed what Judy Blume had written in her classic Are you there God? It’s me, Margaret, all you had to do was pump your arms and chant “I must. I must. I must increase my bust.” A tell- tale sign that a girl was on this journey was her purse. As if out of nowhere in middle school, girls everywhere started carrying Sak purses. Some of it for fashion and some of it for, well you know. I can remember one such occasion leaving my lime green Sak purse on the tennis van while we wondered in University Mall after a tennis match. Its contents were something I did not want anyone knowing but low and behold, the 8th grade tennis team boys stumbled upon it and its contents, confronting me when we returned back to the bus. Not only were you dealing with your time of the month but now for an entire 60 minutes between Tuscaloosa and Demopolis, you are grilled by older guys, snickering and making fun of your plight. Thanks Eve!
Discovering your crush may have some of the same feelings for you was both exciting and embarrassing in middle school. It would start with the selected representatives (usually their best friends) of both the boy and girl to approach for negotiations. For example, Ashley’s best friend Beth would approach Ashley’s crush and her crush’s friend, let’s say his name is Tom approaches Ashley. If they both confirm that the feelings are mutual between Ashley and aforementioned crush, affirmation of feelings are made from the new couple by sitting beside each other in gym or in the lunchroom. Furthermore, if this new couple was seen that weekend at Marengo Theatre or at one of our dance parties, it was expected that they at least hold hands and slow dance to Push by Matchbox 20 or Crash by Dave Matthews.
On the other side of “hooking up” (as we called it but don’t think we knew what that really meant), was a break up. Again, selected representatives would let the respective parties know if their relationship was over. I can remember a representative of a guy I was dating in middle school, approach me to let me know that the guy I was dating did not like me anymore. The representative the guy I was seeing called in to announce the news was a guy I had broken up with earlier that year. I think the representative enjoyed delivering the message as I had obviously hurt his feelings. As we got older, break ups were handled more on the phone. However, when it happened, Alanis Morrisette was the go-to. She had so eloquently written about heartbreak over the guy (what’s his name) from Full House. Break ups then sure beat being ghosted.
Waking up to discover a zit had developed over night could turn your 14-year-old world on its head. The stridex pads you were using and Biore strips hadn’t kept away the inevitable. And guess what, it’s picture day. Sorry Mrs. Ann, but I don’t feel like smiling and saying “I love boys or peanut butter.” They were the culprit in this travesty.
As I look back and think back about my “good” and “bad days” in middle school, I am thankful we did not have social media to remind us of what happened earlier in the day. We could go home and move on with our life. Thankfully, real problems, such as, school shootings and suicide were not as prevalent then (I do remember Columbine). Sadly, our kids are faced with more “adult” things than we were in middle school. Maybe it’s time to introduce them to some of the music that helped our bad days (minus the ones with not such good language maybe). Get them off their phones and share how we (gasp!) can relate. We were in middle school once (hard to believe!). Our clothes were not near as pricey but I still think they were a lot cooler (missing my bell bottom jeans, shirt from David’s Gallery, hemp necklace, and my knee socks!). Let’s help remind our kids that it’s okay to be a kid and to enjoy it for just a little bit longer (adulthood is the rest of your life!). There’s always tomorrow but despite everything, I can’t believe, today was a good day.
Good Day in 7th Grade rocking my Limited shirt and braces
Bad Day for a 13 year old. I’m rocking a spaghetti stripe shirt, hemp necklace and a french braid. That face screams angst.
I am grateful my job allows me to spend time with students in our high school. I also have the opportunity to serve as a Board member for the organization YOUth Lead. From these experiences I am often asked what advice I have in terms of entering college and the working world. I love getting asked this question because I love the opportunities I had while at UA and after college in my first jobs.
While at UA, I was studying to get a degree in Restaurant, Hotel and Meetings Management with a minor in General Business. My degree required an internship or so many hours working in the industry. I chose to work in the industry getting a job as a server/receptionist at NorthRiver Yacht Club. I had never waited tables a day in my life when I was hired. I was as green as the grass on their beautifully manicured golf course. I was barely 19.
When I first started working there, I thought to myself “What in the world did I get myself into?” However, as the weeks and months passed, by I began to learn more about the private club industry and started helping more and more with weddings, getting the opportunity to be the bride and groom’s special assistant (basically catering to their every need- bring them food, drink, bustle the wedding gown, and even assisting a bride to the bathroom (it’s not easy in a wedding dress!).
I found myself a few short years later being asked to help in the catering department while the manager was on maternity leave. I had just turned 21 that summer and was starting to plan events for the first time. I was scared to death but Chef Melissa in her own gruff way had me under her wing. From the experience that summer, I was offered a full-time job when I graduated as the catering manager’s assistant making a whopping $12.25 an hour with benefits and 5 whole days off for the year (vacation and sick time).
I loved working in catering at the Club. The food was amazing and the backdrop was and is still breath taking. It’s the most elegant place I have ever had the privilege of working. Years passed, and the opportunity came to serve as the Membership Director. I was almost 28 and had my first “big girl” position complete with a budget and a new office at the Golf Club. My GM, Michael Ryan was instrumental in teaching me the ins and outs of the club management business and how to best serve our 800 plus members.
Finally, my husband and I made the decision to move, leaving the place I had worked for almost 10 years -from 19 to 29 years of age behind. It was bittersweet to leave a place I considered to be “home” and that helped raise me into adulthood. I cannot begin to tell you the people there that I still miss and that I learned so much from- Kathy (my first boss and catering manager at the time), Michael (my GM), Gene (my GM during my catering career), Matt (Clubhouse Manager), Ashley and Scot (F&B Managers), Chef Melissa, Chef Melina, Ruby (line cook you better not mess with!), Misty (who is in charge of accounting and was a huge help with my budget), Jada (the most fierce fitness director I know!), Kayla (my partner in crime near the end of my career) and so many more I know I am missing!
I share all of this simply because I want kids to know that when in college or after high school, if you are able to work while in school or training, find a job. A lot of times, when looking for your first job, a lot of places require so many years of experience. From my time working during college, I was able to show I had a degree and experience. If you are as blessed as I was, you may even find people and a place that help shape you into an adult and that’s priceless.
To my friends from NorthRiver, I appreciate you giving me the opportunity so many years ago- taking a chance on a 19-year girl who was completely clueless about the club industry. This experience will forever hold a special place in my heart as you all do.
I am grateful my job allows me to spend time with students in our high school. I also have the opportunity to serve as a Board member for the organization YOUth Lead. From these experiences I am often asked what advice I have in terms of entering college and the working world. I love getting asked this question because I love the opportunities I had while at UA and after college in my first jobs.
While at UA, I was studying to get a degree in Restaurant, Hotel and Meetings Management with a minor in General Business. My degree required an internship or so many hours working in the industry. I chose to work in the industry getting a job as a server/receptionist at NorthRiver Yacht Club. I had never waited tables a day in my life when I was hired. I was as green as the grass on their beautifully manicured golf course. I was barely 19.
When I first started working there, I thought to myself “What in the world did I get myself into?” However, as the weeks and months passed, by I began to learn more about the private club industry and started helping more and more with weddings, getting the opportunity to be the bride and groom’s special assistant (basically catering to their every need- bring them food, drink, bustle the wedding gown, and even assisting a bride to the bathroom (it’s not easy in a wedding dress!).
I found myself a few short years later being asked to help in the catering department while the manager was on maternity leave. I had just turned 21 that summer and was starting to plan events for the first time. I was scared to death but Chef Melissa in her own gruff way had me under her wing. From the experience that summer, I was offered a full-time job when I graduated as the catering manager’s assistant making a whopping $12.25 an hour with benefits and 5 whole days off for the year (vacation and sick time).
I loved working in catering at the Club. The food was amazing and the backdrop was and is still breath taking. It’s the most elegant place I have ever had the privilege of working. Years passed, and the opportunity came to serve as the Membership Director. I was almost 28 and had my first “big girl” position complete with a budget and a new office at the Golf Club. My GM, Michael Ryan was instrumental in teaching me the ins and outs of the club management business and how to best serve our 800 plus members.
Finally, my husband and I made the decision to move, leaving the place I had worked for almost 10 years -from 19 to 29 years of age behind. It was bittersweet to leave a place I considered to be “home” and that helped raise me into adulthood. I cannot begin to tell you the people there that I still miss and that I learned so much from- Kathy (my first boss and catering manager at the time), Michael (my GM), Gene (my GM during my catering career), Matt (Clubhouse Manager), Ashley and Scot (F&B Managers), Chef Melissa, Chef Melina, Ruby (line cook you better not mess with!), Misty (who is in charge of accounting and was a huge help with my budget), Jada (the most fierce fitness director I know!), Kayla (my partner in crime near the end of my career) and so many more I know I am missing!
I share all of this simply because I want kids to know that when in college or after high school, if you are able to work while in school or training, find a job. A lot of times, when looking for your first job, a lot of places require so many years of experience. From my time working during college, I was able to show I had a degree and experience. If you are as blessed as I was, you may even find people and a place that help shape you into an adult and that’s priceless.
To my friends from NorthRiver, I appreciate you giving me the opportunity so many years ago- taking a chance on a 19-year girl who was completely clueless about the club industry. This experience will forever hold a special place in my heart as you all do.
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.
The Peach 