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As a kid, I wasn’t afraid of much, but I was scared of what was beneath the surface of lakes, oceans, seas, gulfs or streams. Any natural water source that was too deep for me to see the bottom of terrified me.
Our hearts are like those lakes, oceans, seas, gulfs and streams sometimes in that there is a darkness within them. There is a black, broken place inside even the kindest of hearts.
When I was 15, I went SCUBA diving in the ocean off the coast of Mexico. I was surprised that the bottom of the ocean at that particular spot wasn’t dark at all. In fact, it was beautiful and colorful and filled with amazing textures and patterns. Tonight I’m reminded of the bottom of the ocean, and suddenly the depths of my own heart aren’t so intimidating.
As much as I loved the compexities of Brooklyn, I’m thankful for the introspection, faith and courage I’ve found in Missouri. The depths of our fears are far more gentle and beautiful than we can imagine.
I challenge you to dive into your own.
This year, Fourth of July in Missouri meant rain for most of the day, so instead of BBQ or bottle rockets, I filled my day with indoor things. It wasn’t until I was standing beneath the St. Louis Arch that it really felt like the Fourth of July to me.
I met an old friend for dinner on The Landing, a strip of restaurants and bars just north of the Arch. We made our way down The Landing’s red brick streets to the riverfront, claiming a spot to stand beneath the Arch.
As we stood side by side, the stainless steel of the Arch reflected the vivid colors of the fireworks in the sky above us. The structure’s steel face magnified the cracks and booms of the fireworks, vibrating the walls of my chest with each explosion.
The finale came, and the gunpowder from the fireworks hung tight to the still, damp summertime air. I smiled, happy to be back in my home city, celebrating my freedom with an old friend by my side.
For the first time in ten years, I live close enough to the family farm (GrandPaGFunk’s homestead, as it were) to see family when they visit from out of town.
I’m the youngest of the seven cousins, and most of my cousins’ kids (my second cousins) are closer in age to me than my cousins are.
Six of my second cousins, many of whom I haven’t seen in seven years or more, have visited in May and June. Ranging in age from 7th grade to 21 years old, meeting these kiddos again has amazed me.
The two oldest boys are high school linebackers now, and one of them, when he laughs, looks a lot like my brother.
One of the girls, 21, has recently had a bout with lymphoma. She is so strong that though she still faces daily health challenges, she has a sense of humor about things, laughing and staying optimistic. She and I have the same freckles, light eyes, and light hair.
Another of the girls, a 7th grader, makes me think of myself at that age in her Kermit the Frog t-shirt and black fingernail polish.
A junior in high school, Hailey is thinking of majoring in music education, which is what I studied through most of college, and her younger brother, Taylor, looks so much like my older brother that I couldn’t stop staring at him during dinner.
Small town life is a good reminder that family is amazing. We share similarities, even with family who live hundreds of miles away and who we only see once a decade. When is the last time you reconnected with your own family?
If you haven’t lately, I encourage you to get together with your cousins, aunts, and uncles. We’re far more similar than disimilar, and I think you’ll be amazed, like I’ve been, when you reconnect with them.
Good news!
This week, I received a note on flickr from schmap.com, requesting use of one my photos of Brooklyn Botanic Garden:
Lily Pool Terrace at Brooklyn Botanic Garden, photo by smalltowngirl
Check out my flickr pool here. I’ll let you know when this photo makes it live on schmap.com’s New York City site.
An addition to the excitement about the schmap.com selection is the blog that fellow St. Louis Twitter Donna Gamache posted to The St. Louis Design Community Connections blog about me and my photo. Check it out.
Here’s to pursuing hobbies and careers with passion. There’s nothing like being rewarded for what you love to do.
Today my blog hit two milestones.
1. I doubled my to-date highest number of hits per day.
2. I was recognized in WordPress’s May 10 list of Top 100 Growing Blogs. I was number 52.
Needless to say, this makes me really excited. 
On the dark side, we’re still without power or water at our house. We lost power at approximately noon on Friday, and it’s 10:25 now on Saturday night.
We live on a hill, and we have a beautiful view that streches for miles in several directions. Last night and tonight, all but one direction is lit my nothing but ocassional headlights and the glow of the full moon.
Families inside the city limits of Farmington appear to have power, but driving south of town, power disappears at around three miles from the city limits on the west side of the highway and about 2 miles south of the east side.
Fredericktown, Missouri seems to have felt the brunt of this region’s storms. Trees down West Main Steet, North Main Street and Robinson Street were torn from the ground – not broken by the wind, but literally uprooted in many cases. The roofs of both Fredericktown High School and Fredericktown Wal-Mart were partly torn off.
Stone business signs lay crumbled, several businesses reported severe damage, and the town is expected to be without electricity for days, if not weeks. My dad grew up there, and our family church is there. Two close friends live there, as well as countless family friends and aquaintances. My thoughts and prayers are with them as I sit here, typing by the light of one single lamp, running on a generator in the yard.
It’s no secret that it takes losing something to appreciate what you had before. I am thankful for power, water and the roof over my head. I’m thankful that none of the trees that were blown down damaged my family’s property or my dad’s job sites. And I hope that for those families who have seen property damage, lost power, downed trees or worse, that there’s light for them soon.
Here’s another video of the storm, taken from my bedroom window Friday. Sorry about the screen, but I couldn’t get any of the doors open to film from outside.
I would sit in my window seat as a little girl, lights off and window cracked, watching the lightning storms and smellling the rain. Storms in Missouri blow through hard and fast.
It sounds as if God and his angels are hitting strike after strike in the bowling alley in the sky, and the lighting lights the entire world as if it were the middle of day.
Today, I was scheduled to work from home, but thanks to one of Missouri’s powerful spring storms, I’ve been without power or internet for the last few hours. My dad and I hunkered inside the house and the dog wimpered as winds up to 80 mph sent outdoor furniture flying through yard and split trees in half.
Tree in the front yard, split in half. photo by smalltowngirl
The rain blew sideways so hard that puddles of water formed inside our sunroom door. The north- and west-facing sides of the house were covered in leaves blown from trees, and water flooded the backyard.
Leaves in all the wrong places. photo by smalltowngirl
Roads in Washngton, St. Francois and Madison Counties were closed due to flooding, downed power lines, and debris blocking traffic. Flash-flooding caused problems for home-owners and businesses, and several schools were without power.
Blue Skies. photo by smalltowngirl
Several hours later, the electricity is still out, so I sit at Brauhaus Kaffee, sipping a smoothie, writing this blog, and preparing to get back to my real work now that I have internet again. I hope everyone out there is okay, and that damages to property don’t cause families any more financial stress than tney may already be under.
Everything in all the wrong places. photo by smalltowngirl
The morning sun was at my back as I drove North on Highway 8. I was hovering just below the speed limit as I approached the Potosi city limits.
There is no turning lane on the highway in that spot, so when I saw a car passing the pick-up, I realized that the truck was in my lane. I slammed on my brakes, gripping the steering wheel with my left hand and throwing my right hand to my horn.
The grey and black Ford F-150 looked like a wall of steel standing before me as I braced for impact.
The left front end of his truck struck my front driver’s side. His truck scraped down the side of my car, and I watched the shoulder of the road move all too quickly beneath my tires.
I felt my car leave the road, then the shoulder of the road, and finally come to a stop nose-down in a six-foot ditch.
I put the car in park. By the time I got out and turned to look at the scene of the accident, the truck’s driver was already halfway between his truck and my car, asking me if I was alright, and
apologizing.
Adrenaline pumping, my hands began to shake. Soon my arms and shoulders began to shiver and shake, too.
By the time the police reports were written, the car was on a tow truck and I had arrived at the auto shop, I was sick to my stomach and exhausted.
My dad helped me with the phone calls and paperwork for insurance and a rental car, and then I worked a 7 hour day, leaving the office well after 9 p.m.
I slept for 12 hours last night though, and spent today with a sadness in my stomach that I can’t explain.
The sadness was there yesterday as well. I wished someone would hug me so that I could let the tears flow. Instead, I worked. Today I cleaned and unpacked more boxes, and only now, after midnight, in my bed alone, are a few tears falling.
I wasn’t afraid. As I braced for impact, I felt at peace with whatever was about to happen.
What a strange thing – to be aware of that sense of peace even as a Ford truck is pummeling the car you’re driving. I think I resigned myself in that moment that I was prepared for whatever hand God was dealing me.
I was a blessed woman to have landed in the cozy 6-foot ditch that I landed in (rather than in any number of 50+ foot drop-offs along that highway), and while I was at peace with whatever was going to happen, I am so, so thankful that I was given another day to wake up and live today.
Smalltowngirl
Taken 3/14/09 in Potosi, MO
One of the questions I’ve gotten over and over about my move from NYC to MO is, “How are you enjoying driving everywhere?”
Another is, “How do you like your 42 mile commute?”
On a whole, I don’t mind the commute or the driving. One thing that subway life taught me, however, was just how dangerous highways are.
When I’d visit family in MO, I’d see people…
Eating and driving…
Talking on a cell phone and driving…
Talking on a cell phone, eating and driving…
Talking on the phone, smoking a cigarette and driving…
…sometimes while driving a stick shift…
Reading a driving…
Digging around in their floorboard and driving…
These multi-tasking drivers scare me.
Why do they scare me? Because cars are big, heavy machines that go very, very fast.
Today, I was driving my own big, strong, heavy machine (i.e. a Ford Taurus) to work when a younger driver in a much bigger, heavier, stronger machine (i.e. an early-1990s Ford F-150) made a lefthand turn on a state highway.
Making a lefthand turn isn’t inherently problematic. Making a lefthand turn into the lane in which I am driving, however, is very
problematic.
I realized what was about to happen before it happened, honking and swerving to try to avoid being hit. To no avail.
His truck hit my car on the driver’s side, and then pushed it into a fairly deep ditch, where the front end of my (relatively smaller), but still strong and heavy machine’s front end saw further abuse by Missouri clay and rocks.
Thank God no one was hurt, but Lordy people, please don’t forget that driving is a responsibility, and that automobiles are dangerous.
MO=0; NY=1
