Papaw

Papaw died on May 18, 2015 at age 84. 

My Papaw, Thomas Dewitt Hankins, had a unique and gentile drawling accent. He always spoke with an economy of words.  He was handsome and always made a point to look his best and smell good.

Papaw loved music. He played guitar, even after losing his right hand.

Papaw loved horses and puppies and babies. And that squirrel named Flash. And that goat named Cracker Jack who was a jerk.

Papaw often worked multiple jobs to support his family. He was a cowboy who broke horses. He was a welder. He was a game warden and worked in law enforcement, among a number of other terribly interesting jobs.

Papaw was an American hero. He volunteered for military service and fought for our country in Korea where he was seriously wounded during a mortar attack. The explosion left his body scarred and full of shrapnel that remained for the rest of his life. He received a Purple Heart and the Louisiana Veterans Honor Medal in recognition of his sacrifice.

Papaw had a marvelous sense of humor. Not a soul could resist that grin accompanied by that mischievous twinkle in his eye, always present whether he was up to something or not. Smart, silly, creative and able to hold an audience. He was a raconteur, a skill he passed to successive generations.

Papaw was tender-hearted, sensitive to the pain and needs of others, even feeling guilty about having so many blessings in his life when there were others in the world who had so little.

Papaw adored his family above all. We were his treasure. Each one of us was his favorite. Nothing was more important to him than family.

Papaw loved my Mamaw. Seems odd to talk about Papaw in the singular, because he was half of a duet. Thomas and Ruby, Mama and Daddy, Mamaw and Papaw. They were a grand-parenting dream team. We were the luckiest grandkids ever, and I was their first one.

Papaw was one of the two most influential men in my life. He and my daddy showed me that good men love strong, independent women. Papaw always thought I was exceptionally talented and destined to be a star. My original biggest fan. I thought he was like a magician because having only one hand didn't stop him from doing anything as far as I could tell. He was always sad when we left his house because he missed us so much when we weren't there. Losing him is losing one of the primary sources that forged the person I am in this world. My identity. My heart.

I hope I love the way he loved, with reckless abandon. I hope I'm kind and give people the benefit of the doubt, like he did. I hope I'm worldly, and curious, and loyal, and silly and devoted beyond all good reason. I hope I have the strength to endure hardship and emerge on the other side with a depth of character that inspires others and gives me compassion and patience. I hope I'm worthy of this legacy he leaves, but I know for certain that he believed I'm worthy and capable of magnificent things. I love him for seeing all my beauty and will strive to see that in others as well.

Take your well-earned rest, sweet Papaw. Until we meet again.

Take a Hike!

I have a tendency to write things and squirrel them away, only to rediscover them later. Here is one such item. It's an article I wrote that was never published, but helped land me some freelance writing gigs...  

Take a Hike! Tips for taking your exercise routine outdoors, by Debbie Tullos

The changing of the season sparks a primal urge to commune with nature and abandon the gym for the great outdoors. One of the easiest ways to do this is head to the nearest park. City parks, gardens, and myriad other outdoor spaces are available to most people year-round. Before jumping onto the trail, take the time to do a few easy, common sense things to stay safe and maximize enjoyment of the experience.

1) Map your trail. The idea of driving right over to the park and cranking up the pedometer may be tempting, but mapping out a route for your walk or jog is essential for a couple of reasons.

• Many parks have lots of trails that vary widely in length, difficulty, and even the type of traffic allowed. You really don't want to be surprised by a group of horseback riders coming up on the left. 
• Losing your bearings is easier than you may think. Multiple trails, multiple parking lots, multiple entry points...they can all start to look alike. Before you know it, a 45-minute walk has turned into 3 hours of trying to find the way back to your car. 

2) Use trail etiquette. Check for specific rules and regs for any particular park, but some practices are useful on all trails.

• Keep to the right. This allows faster users to pass on the left. If you approach someone from behind and intend to pass, give a verbal warning of, "On your left!" 
• Mind your pets. Keep dogs on a leash and please pick up behind your pet. Please. 
• Be mindful of where you stop. Stopping on the trail is occasionally necessary to tie a shoe or get a bug out of your eye. Stop in appropriate places away from blind corners. No one wants to turn a corner at full speed and slam into someone standing still. 

3) Don't be a target. Although being attacked on a trail is unlikely, it does happen. There are a few simple things that will further minimize this risk.

• Take a buddy. Would-be attackers seek easy targets and they know that a buddy is an instant alarm system, and self-defense times two. 
• Be easy to see. Wear light-colored clothing and avoid being on the trails at night. 
• Be aware. To put it another way, leave the iPod at home! Nothing says, "Sneak up on me," like wires hanging from ear buds. 
• Don't wear jewelry. Just like barracuda, unsavory types are attracted to shiny objects. If you aren't fishing for trouble, leave the bait at home. 
• Be confident. Predators observe body language. A person who has a confident carriage is much less attractive than someone who looks afraid and insecure. 

Exercising in the great outdoors is one of the great pleasures in life, good for the body and soul, if you remember to be prepared, be courteous, and be careful.

Fair Marketing Value

Today, we bid adieu to that annual marketing monster event, the North Carolina State Fair. Those of you who do not live in Raleigh, NC or the surrounding area may not be able to grasp the magnitude of this event. More than 1 million people attended the Fair during it's 10-day span.

Um...that's a LOT of people.

Why do I care about the State Fair? Because I do promotion and marketing for WRAL-TV. So much of our success is measured by how many people like us. It's quite subjective. One of the ways we can foster warm, fuzzy feelings is personal interaction with viewers. The more we can personally interact with people, the more likely they are to like us. That is, if our interaction is a positive experience. The State Fair is a big deal because we have the opportunity to have a positive, personal interaction with hundreds of thousands of people...and THAT can make a difference in our ratings....worth the price of admission.

So, this means that the Fair ranks as our TOP promotional event of the year. We have a huge tent full of giveaways, meet & greets with our on-air personalities, contests, live broadcasts every day from the fairgrounds...it's a huge undertaking. And is hugely stressful for those of us in charge of making sure we look good out there and make the most of the investment.

Given all of this, I breathe a sigh of relief to see the Fair come to an end, pleased that we pulled it off once more, pleased that we made the most of it, pleased that I don't have to think about it again for about 6 months.

Now, on to the next thing...November Sweeps begins in 2 days. Bring it on!

Deck-cation

Here I sit on my deck, Labor Day weekend. I sit, in my collapsible blue lawn chair. I have my laptop, my up-cycled hand-made book journal, and my sketch book all stacked up on a circa 1950-something end table. This little table has been dragged around with me to all five of the places I've lived since going off to college. Now, I've dragged it out onto my deck for the evening. Oh, yeah, and I have my little (big) rum drink on this table as well.

The Amy Winehouse Pandora station is playing in the background.

Because I do not have proper deck furniture, getting out here is a bit of a production, therefore, I don't do it very often. The large volume of spider webs I fought through this evening testifies to that. Such a shame, because the view from my deck is lovely. Thick woods with lots of interesting wildlife. My deck is also unusually large for a one-bedroom apartment in Raleigh. This is one of the reasons I chose to live here. I need some deck furniture.

"Amy, Amy, Amy," is playing on Pandora. Delicious.

Why am I on this deck alone? The door and the window are wide open, so there should be a cat or two out here with me. Sam is chillin' on the floor inside. I call him to come out here and keep me company. He promptly obliges. Best cat ever.

As the evening progresses, the air is getting cooler. We are getting the first little bitty taste of fall this weekend. This tank top won't do after a while.

"The Way I Am," Ingrid Michaelson on Pandora. Perfect.

...time lapse...

Ok, back now. Just sliced up some onions and popped those and some brats in the oven. Freshened up the little (big) rum drink. Munched a few jalapeno kettle cooked chips.

I see that my neighbor still has the action figure clothing laying out on his deck. I noticed a few days ago that this apparently single, mid-thirties dude who lives next to me had carefully laid out some doll-sized clothes (cargo pants and a gray hoodie) to dry on his deck. Now the cargo pants are missing while the hoodie remains. There very well may be a squirrel out there somewhere wearing a freshly laundered pair of cargo pants. Not cold enough for the hoodie yet.

"4 + 20," Joss Stone on Pandora. Sweet.

Holy crap, those brats and onions already smell freakin' awesome. Sam is still hangin' out here with me, dutifully.

Have felt a bit blue the past few days. Very stressful at work this week (although, I kicked ass), struggled with nightmares. Not feeling very well-rested. Off-center. After doing a goodly amount of laying around on the couch yesterday, I felt worse. Did some more laying around today and realized I was seriously struggling with "What's Next" Syndrome. You know, the antithesis of "Living in the Moment." Now THAT is straight-up manufactured stress.

"The Fear," Lilly Allen on Pandora. Pandora is reading my mind.

Jarring myself from my wallowing, I planned my little re-centering party, in which I am in the midst right now. Soooo working. I am definitely feeling better.

Cicadas. Sam is now curled up right next to my folding blue lawn chair, enjoying the towel I put there earlier to give him a comfy place to hang. He's been sick this week and I'm afraid he's a little dehydrated. He's such a sweet boy.

"New Soul," Yael Naim on Pandora....*sigh/smile*

Ever throw yourself a "re-centering" party? What did you do? Did it work?

Burning

This could go anywhere... Am I about to talk about a failed meal? A criminal act? A medical condition that is best left undisclosed to anyone other than my doctor and my boyfriend?

None of the above. I am am talking about desire. Burning desire. Still, the place I'm going here is not as sexy as it sounds. I'm talking about a burning desire to travel.

How's that for a teaser campaign? But, I digress.

I really haven't done much traveling. Never left the country...haven't even been to the Caribbean. Don't have a passport and never have.

This isn't a typical "I need a vacation" vent. My motivation is not to take a break from the burden of daily life. My daily life is not such a terrible burden. My motivation is to experience more. To be challenged. I can't shake the feeling that I'm missing out, and for a very good reason. I AM missing out! There is a whole big, wide world out there that I am missing.

I put this out there as an acknowledgment of this place in my evolution. As I move forward in my life, I am moving away from materialism. Not that I was ever materialistic, but that I have come to reject material as a gauge of my success or happiness. I reject the societal goal structure that measures milestones by material gain...buying a house, getting a raise, bigger, bigger, more, more. Don't get me wrong, I want to be comfortable and have what I need, but my definition of "need" has drastically changed in the last 5 years. I need to make sure I don't come to the end of my life knowing that I missed out.

Now, back to that burning sensation. Each year in the last week of August, thousands of people converge in the Nevada desert for an artistic free-for-all called Burning Man. There was a time when this event sounded to me like the most bizarre, outrageous event and I couldn't imagine the draw. Now, I get it. It represents this desire...this desire to measure milestones in experiences. It represents complete freedom from materialistic society, from being judged, from limitations, real or imagined. I hope to count it among my experiences, sooner than later. Until then, I'll just be burning toast.

Red Light

A friend of mine died today.

I hate this. This acute awareness of mortality. I can't help but believe that we are not meant to have this awareness so close to the skin. How are we supposed to walk through life, pulling ourselves along our little assigned time line knowing that the...stuff...the stuff that urges us along that line is so fleeting, and so much of it of no consequence? If I were not here tomorrow, the TV station would still be on the air, a new person would move into this apartment, all my possessions would go in the trash or to Goodwill. Life would continue just fine without me.

Ah, but.....mortality wouldn't be so big, so powerful, so painful, so influential, so...present, if that stuff were the only thing on our little time line. There are people on each time line. Our little lines intersect, weave in and out, entangle with every other life we encounter. When one time line comes to its end, every line entangled with it comes to a sudden stop. Depending upon the degree of the entanglement, the stop may last a moment, a few days, months....or the remainder of a life.

I am sad to think that most of the world will continue on as though my friend were never even here. Those lines that never crossed his will not pause. I will go to work tomorrow and do the things I do, but tonight, I paused. I stopped. I stared at a red stop light, transfixed by it while aware of a constant stream of cars racing by in both directions underneath. I welled up with tears and felt the loss. I felt a bit angry at the cars racing past as though nothing had happened. They should all stop, but they didn't.

I am unconcerned with how many pauses happen at the end of my time line. What difference will it make to me? I'll be gone. I am, however, VERY concerned about when I may have to stop again. I dread coming to a place where another person's mortality will stop me dead in my tracks. A mortal line so closely entwined with mine that I can't imagine dragging on without it. This is the awareness I hate.

I am so glad my life intersected with yours, Eddie. You are, perhaps, the most unique person I ever met. You were a big man with big flaws, perfectly balanced with big love, loyalty and joy. Rest in peace, my friend.

Like a Pig in Mud

When life gives you lemons, make lemonade. Then if everything goes to hell, well, at least you have some lemonade. But, what if you don't feel like making lemonade? What if life gave you the lemons, stole all your sugar, broke your pitcher, and hid your spoon where the sun don't shine?

Sometimes, seeing the bright side is much easier said than done.

Yes, I'm all for positive thinking and I do believe it is very powerful. When something rotten happens in my life, I always get through it by finding the light and following it. You know, the light at the end of the tunnel. In my experience, that light is usually NOT a train, so I would say this is an effective life strategy....however...there is always that period just before I find the light. That period of time, usually only about a day or so, when I wallow in self-pity like a fat, pink pig in mud.

I declare that taking a little time for a pity party is ok. You heard me. That theory is contrary to what we're told we should do. Friends see you down and try to boost you up with love and happy tawts. Your mom tells you to quit feeling sorry for yourself and do something about it. Your grandma bakes you cookies. No person who loves you wants to see you sad, so they work tirelessly to get you over it. Ah, maybe that's part of the appeal.

I think brief moments of self-pity are therapeutic, as long as they are short-lived and you have the ability to pull yourself out of them, motivated to forge ahead. A pity party can simply be a request for a little help from your support system to refill your emotional tank in preparation for a difficult road ahead.

After all, pigs wallow in mud to protect themselves from overheating in the harsh rays of the sun. Wallowing in a little self-pity for protection against the harsh realities of life seems reasonable. Pigs are smart. They freak me out a little.