Marking Your Spot

 

Marking Your Spot

He hands me his latest find, a bookmark, photo of a cat,

calicoed and turned towards the camera as if posed.

The tree-edged yard framed by the window

that back-lights the translucent vein-webbed ears.

 

It is a fancy cat, with a beribboned neck.

Loved enough to be photographed.

Like Fancy the cat, who lived in the house Eric and I bought on 10^th Street,

and who rests in our backyard.

 

I had been told by the previous owner at the closing on the house

where the unmarked grave was located.

Among a thicket of sweet shrub.  Or was it forsythia?

Don’t dig too deep.

 

That next summer, warning forgotten,

I found where Miss Mildred and her daughter had placed Fancy.

A dark stain in the soil of the forsythias I was splitting out

stopped me from laboring further.

 

Now, tucked between the edge of the patio

and the row of Japanese privit

that years ago replaced the forsythia,

a remnant of marble, half hidden in the underbrush, to remember.

 

For Jim McGuire

Christmas Letter 2020

7 Dec 2020

Greetings from Gadsden!

Let me say this first:  I will not miss 2020 when it is over.  I will remember it forever, having been shaped by it in odd and startling ways, but I will not miss it.

Eric and I have small circles of chosen pandemic people we see regularly: my mom, whom I, masked & socially distanced from, happily take breakfast to every Sunday morning and together with Eric, handle yard work and various other tasks for; and our closest friends, a family of six, who live near us, and with whom we maintain a 10+ year tradition of Saturday night dinner. We have perfected Saturday Supper Club to maintain our sanity during the pandemic:  extreme social distancing with masks while outdoors, regardless of the temperature. We’ve had some incredible meals together, despite the complications.  Most recently we enjoyed salmon, mushroom-stuffed rice balls, glazed green beans, and miso soup in the bay of their two-car garage.  Both doors were rolled wide open, camp chairs were placed 20+ feet apart near the opening, and we were warmed by the flame of a portable Craftsman propane  flame thrower heater. There may also have been wine and bourbon…

Because of the lack of certain items in the grocery stores at the onset of the pandemic, and an initial fear of shopping, I started a small garden. Not a huge one, but enough of a garden to supplement our food supply with fresh tomatoes, various peppers, garlic, green onions, oregano, thyme, and lots and lots of basil. Eric would often have to help me tie up the tomatoes, as they outgrew my height very quickly. Every morning before work, I would go out to prune and weed and water. After work, I’d take a basket out and gather.  We had more than we needed, so we shared with family, friends, neighbors. That little garden produced up until two weeks ago, which is when I winterized the space. Eric has recently shared with me his idea to build a type of portable raised-bed that employs bales of hay in the bottoms ...a type of Hugelkulture.  I’m totally game.  If only there was some way I could grow toilet paper and Clorox wipes...

Our families are doing well. Mom, at 83, continues to work full time at the library in Rainbow City. My sister and I do her shopping for her, so her whereabouts are simple...home or work.  Vicki and I are the only ones allowed in her home, and we religiously practice the holy trinity of the pandemic:  mask, social distance, hand wash.  Eric‘s family is doing well out in Kansas and Missouri. Unfortunately, because of the pandemic, we have not traveled to see them this year. We miss them, but see them virtually.

We still live with our Catahoula, Booker, in our little downtown bungalow overlooking the wildlife park.  The leaves have finally fallen from the trees and the kudzu has died back for the season, giving us a winter view that we dream about during the summer months...from our kitchen window we watch the egrets dance above Lake Gadsden, the late afternoon sun turning the water a shimmering amber and gold.

Hope this finds you safe, happy & healthy.

Big love,

Sixth Street Cemetery or Southern Hills

Not long after purchasing The Bungalow in 2010, a local historian dropped by the house.  I was red-faced and sweating over the sloped back yard and a borrowed mower, and was alarmed to see the elderly gentleman standing patiently inside the gate waiting for my attention.  He was looking for an old cemetery that was supposed to be hidden in the brush somewhere near our home.  On the verge of a coronary from the heat and exertion, I told the man that I had no idea what he was talking about, but asked if he would like to sit for a spell on the front porch where it was cooler.  It was there in that blessed shade that he spoke of a long forgotten cemetery that was the final resting place for many of the African American community members who lived near and worked for those wealthy folks who lived in the historical district.  He said that he knew the cemetery was out on this ridge, overlooking the bird sanctuary, but because of all the undergrowth, he was having a hard time finding it.  It was a mystery, a mystery that wouldn't be solved for several more years...a mystery that has only led to more mysteries...

A year or so later, I heard of a group that was trying to raise funds to clear the brush that was obscuring an old cemetery off of Sixth Street.  The cemetery was reported to be the one used by African Americans in our neighborhood...

Last summer, at our Teen Summer Reading Program on archaeology, Chari Bostick, director of Grace Heritage Foundation came up after the program to speak with the presenter Chris Hill (my former archaeological crew chief).  She needed information about whom to contact with the state about preserving the old Sixth Street Cemetery, also known by the name Southern Hills.  She had been working to set up a foundation to house funds for preservation, and had managed to get the City of Gadsden to begin work on clearing the brush, but the machinery used to do the clearing was doing more harm than good, so she was back to working with groups of volunteers who were cutting and clearing by hand.  Chris made his recommendations to Ms. Bostick and, after the end of that evening, I promptly forgot about the cemetery, again.

It was only after our Civil Rights Unity Walk last month and my thoughts about the shared history of our community, a history that transcends skin color,  that the cemetery lost in the woods came back to mind.  How does a city cemetery become lost?  I think that a cemetery becomes lost only when the people who are buried there are considered not worth remembering by those who could do something about it.  Lots of things could be at play here...race, socioeconomics, who knows? Embarrassed that I had lived in our neighborhood for five years without visiting the cemetery, a cemetery that Eric had photographed during one of their work sessions, I put Sixth Street Cemetery on my list of things to do the Saturday following the Unity Walk.  And coincidentally, during work that week, I received a Facebook message from friend Bill Thornton saying that Bunk Richardson was buried in Sixth Street Cemetery because it happened to serve as the pauper's cemetery for the city at the time of Mr. Richardson's lynching...Bill, whom I originally knew from his covering our late 1990s archaeological digs in Calhoun County and, most importantly from his chilling five-part series written for the Gadsden Times in 2000 about Bunk Richardson. 

Eric and I visited the cemetery two weeks ago.  It was the first warm, blue-sky day that we've had in a long time. Yes, tombstones are missing, and crypts have been damaged, but a remarkable amount of work has been done under the direction of Ms. Bostick.  Eric and I hope to participate in future work sessions, and try to help in any way that we are able. 

Update:  Eric was kind enough to find these Gadsden Times articles, written in 2003 and 2008 about the cemetery...
http://www.gadsdentimes.com/article/20030123/NEWS/301230318
http://www.gadsdentimes.com/article/20130607/NEWS/130609859
http://www.gadsdentimes.com/article/20080123/NEWS/801230308
http://www.gadsdentimes.com/article/20030125/NEWS/301250333
http://www.gadsdentimes.com/article/20080117/NEWS/801170335

State of the Bungalow Address, March 16, 2015

First we saw these, which always bring hope:

Crocus at The Bungalow.

Then mom thought I should have gran's tea cup and saucer.  Which. Was. Perfect.

Then, I couldn't wait any longer, so I started digging a ditch to divert water away from the house.  This ditch will be widened and turned into a dry creek bed after we build the deck.

But then, I was so excited about the new planting beds along the fence, I transplanted a gazillion plants and put down store-bought pine straw (ouch) while it rained the next day.  I also added some rock foot bridges.  Booker thinks that I did all of this for him. 

Then a stink (stank) bug got in the house and Booker worried it to death.  Poor stank bug.  No, it survived his pawin' and snufflin' long enough for me to liberate it to the front yard.

And then yesterday evening, after excavating about a foot down at the back of the house for the new deck, Eric and I sat with Booker.  Rather, Booker sat on Eric.

Oh, and did I mention the deck?

Behind the Scenes: The Week Between Christmas & New Year's 2014

Remember that week between Christmas and New Year's Eve of 2014?  You know, that week we chipped off the plaster from one of The Bungalow's basement walls to expose the brick, built two Carol-crushing, massive shelving units for the basement, and then tore out the paneling of the laundry room to make way for the new plumbing installation?  Yup, that would be the one...

Not so loose plaster.

Mostly done.  Love that brick.

Beds for the bunker Shelves for the basement.

Organizing will have to wait.

Yep, that's beadboard on the ceiling.  We're keeping that.

One Thing Leads to Another: A State of the Bungalow Address, 10 January 2015

After the wedding in November, Eric and I finally had the time to get some much needed plumbing work done on The Bungalow to improve our water volume.  With the help of Keith Hathcock, owner of K. D. & J. Plumbing of Gadsden, we made a game plan that would start with the least expensive improvement and work our way up to the more costly improvements.  So, we began with paying the City of Gadsden's Water Department to replace our water tap from the main street line to our meter.  Our water volume was only improved by about ten percent with this replacement, so we set up an appointment with Keith to have his guys come out to replace the main line from the meter to The Bungalow (using 1" PEX just in case we ever decided to put in an irrigation system in our landscape).  I almost cried at how improved the water volume was after that installation (we could finally flush the toilet while running the bathroom faucet AND have good water volume in the shower...something we have not ever experienced in our four and a half years at The Bungalow).  But, our home projects couldn't stop there...

Right before we replaced that main line from the meter to the house, our washer went out.  So, knowing that we really wanted stackable HE front-loading units in our laundry room, we went price comparing and shopping...and ended up with an amazing price on some high falutin' Matag machines.  But, when they were delivered, we discovered that the electrical outlet was not high enough in the wall and that the plumbing was unsightly and on the wrong side of the space.  So, after a phone call to (and some advice from) our favorite electrician, Eric moved the electrical outlet so that we could use our new machines.  A week or so later, after Christmas and New Year's had passed (and many other home projects that Eric and I did to prepare for the forthcoming projects...that is another blog), we set up yet another appointment with K. D. & J. to bring our washer lines up to code and add a washer/dryer box in the wall.  Two days before the K. D. & J. guys came out for that installation, a storm moved through the area, knocking out the power on our end of the street, and, unbeknownst to us until the temperatures began to drop considerably the next night, fried the transformer on our heating unit. So, on the same day that we had plumbers out to work on the plumbing, we had NAPCO (who fixed the A/C for me the first summer in The Bungalow while Eric was in Africa) out to fix our heat.

Last night, Eric and I spent a romantic Friday evening picking up sheetrock, mud, insulation and various other items at Lowe's.  We may have had a glass of adult beverage when we got home...

K. D. & J. digging new water line trench.

1" PEX

New cutoff outside the front door.

Temporary laundry room.  Not for long...

Pre-demo.

Bad Transformer=No Heat!

Reese (sp?) from NAPCO.

New washer/dryer box and new plumbing!

The Ring Bear

Tex came by The Bungalow to earn some money this past Sunday.  I gave him his invitation to the wedding and strict orders to be sure and tell his grandpa and grandma they were invited to come with him.  I doubt that info made it home.  I may have to make a phone call...

As we were spreading pine straw down the sides of the front walk and around the crepe myrtles, Tex asked me if he could be our ring bear.

Me:  "You mean ring bearer?"

Tex:  "That's what I said, your ring bear."

Me:  "Well, we don't have a wedding party, so Eric's going to have the rings in his pocket..."

Why do I feel like Barney Stinson has a hand in this?

Addendum:  If you do not watch How I Met Your Mother, you may not understand this joke.

State of the Bungalow Address 19 July 2014

The Bungalow and garage just received a fresh coat of paint.  In some cases (the red doors), FIVE coats of paint.  We opted out of the DIY approach for this project (scraping, sanding, caulking in high places, knocking down wasp nests, replacing rotting boards and such) and hired the very entertaining, former policeman Hugh Cox to handle the job for us.  It took us a month to choose the colors (yes, a month of back and forth to Sherwin Williams, small pots of color to paint on a board that we moved around the outside of the house day after day, during different times of the day).  And once we chose the colors, we then hopped into the car and drove all the way to South Dakota so that we could get far away and marinate on our choices (actually, we drove to South Dakota to attend Eric's best friend's wedding in Sioux Falls, which is a whole other wonderful story for another time).  When we came back, almost a week later, Hugh and his team started the process of transformation.  It took awhile.  But now The Bungalow is sealed and painted and almost sea-worthy.  We would buy her all over again.

The Bungalow cleaning process, before paint.

The Bungalow, after a good scrubbing and paint.

Back of The Bungalow, post-paint.

Garage, after Eric finished out the front, pre-paint.

Garage, mid paint.

Garage, done!

Porch ceiling, before.

Porch ceiling, after.

Colors used, all Sherwin Williams:
Link Gray SW 6200-Body
Cast Iron SW 6202-Trim
Rare Gray SW 6199-Porch Ceiling
Rookwood Dark Red SW 2801-Doors

Next projects:  Staining the front door, spray painting the brass door hardware, and building a deck across the back of the house.  To be continued...

Snow at the Bungalow.

Or Bunga-snow.  Or Snow-galow.  Anyway, we had a snow event in Alabama yesterday.  A snow event that will, no doubt, last for at least another couple of days.  I know of folks who are still stranded out there...stranded since 2PM yesterday.  It is 6:30AM right now.  I feel for my southern brethren (and sistren).

Being a southerner, but also being a southerner who has lived outside of the south, I can see both sides of a snowy situation.  And I feel that the south always takes a beating (both literally and figuratively) when it comes to snow.  This morning I felt compelled to rant a little on Facebook.  For those of you who are not on Facebook:

"I just have to say this in defense of the south and how we deal (or don't deal) with snow.  We don't get snow very often.  I lived in upstate NY for a year and in Denver for six years.  I made it through two blizzards in both places (and also one here in Gadsden, the one in ’93).  So, I am familiar with driving in snow and ice.  But from my experience, what happens here in the south is quite different from what in either of those places.  When snow begins to fall in Denver or NY, the snow plows and salt trucks come out in force.  Ordinary people are always armed with ice scrapers/brushes, de-icers, blankets, snacks, flashlights and maybe even a bag of sand in their trunks.  And homeowners have roof rakes, snow shovels and snow blowers in their garages…because they get snow (a lot of it) every winter.  We do not.  So, when we do get snow, it requires that we get into our motor vehicles and try to navigate a situation that most of us are not in the practice of navigating.  And then people make fun of us trying to do the best that we are able to do considering the circumstances.  I think we do, and have done, alright.  There were lots of good people out there yesterday offering me rides when I was walking (by choice) to the Gadsden Times.  I saw so many folks in trucks, and some on foot, helping to push distressed drivers up hills or out of the roadway. I know many friends who opened their homes up to stranded families. And that is all that matters. 'Do unto others...' or, more accurately, 'There but for the grace of God...'"

Built-in Bookcases

Almost four years ago, we acquired The Bungalow.  The living room fireplace surround looked like this right before the closing:

After painting and placing utility bookshelves where we wanted to create built-in bookcases in the future, we lived with the fireplace surround looking like this:

After much thought and many other more important home projects, Eric got on building the built-in bookcases last month.  Now, the space looks like this:

High-five, Eric!  My comments upon completion:  "I would totally pin that on a Pinterest Board."

New Year's Eve 2012

2012 was a good year.  Yes, sadly, there were losses (some I've blogged about, others, I've not yet found the words to blog about.  Maybe one day.).  But it was a beautiful year for figuring out what is important (mostly people and the simple things) and to begin New Year's resolutions early (again, pertaining to people and simple things).

Eric and I closed things out on New Year's Eve with a gathering of friends.  The Bungalow is small, and parking is never easy on our street, so the number of folks we can comfortably accommodate is limited.  Those who came were brave merry souls...

NYE 2012 at The Bungalow.  With permission, by Laura Catoe.

What may be my favorite photo of the evening is the one below, again by Laura Catoe.  I am wearing a vintage set of jewelry given to me last year by my mother.  The earrings and necklace were hers when she was a girl.  The painting is of her as a teenager.  She is wearing the necklace in the portrait.  I love the jewelry.  But more importantly, I love my mom.  I was more than happy to pose for this shot.  I may have even been giggling when Laura snapped it...

The Witches of South 10th Street

I walked outside this morning to water plants and saw these on our porch.  They are fake fingernails.  Children's fake fingernails.  The kind that I used to put on as a child when dressing up as a witch.  I think these belong to two good little witches who happened to stop by The Bungalow last night to beg for Flavor Ice and a story.  They got their Flavor Ice and I offered the tale of Pegasus, Medusa or the Minotaur.  They chose the Minotaur, and sat wide-eyed together on the chaise lounge, listening to the story, until a mother's call lured one of them away...