May 28, 2018 by Jolene

Memorial Day weekend, huzzah!

Our holiday weekend was full of some of my favorite things: outdoor adventures, memory-making and family.

We started with a picnic Saturday along the Natchez Trace, followed by a hike that quickly turned into a hard-rain dousing, to the enormous entertainment of the youngest members of our crew.

We came home, took showers, had a spaghetti supper and closed the day with a few holiday weekend fireworks, courtesy of Uncle Ryan.

We spent Sunday at the Tennessee Renaissance Festival, held at a real-life castle in Arrington, just a short drive from here. We ended the day hot and tired, but everyone had such a good time. We toured the castle, and the kids really enjoyed the junk food, the games and shops and the shows – pirates and Robin Hood, a knighting ceremony, birds of prey and jousting (the clear favorite).

Lina wasn’t loving waiting in line for the bus for the castle tour, so she sidled right up to a sympathetic-looking fellow tour goer, whose name, we learned, was Ella.

She started the outing a little overwhelmed and crabby, but a pile of french fries and a smoothie did wonders for her outlook.

Lina loved the interactive Robin Hood show. She started out three rows back with us and moved up a row at a time until she got the unimpeded view she wanted.

Corin was thrilled to slay the dragon by snaring the ring with the sword, thus being proclaimed an honorary knight for the day, to rousing “huzzahs.”

Memorial Day was lower-key, with biking and walking at the local arboretum, a little driveway basketball and squeezing in as much play as possible before my brother and the family headed home. I am reminded, as I sort through photos and look back over the weekend, that these simple pleasures, of family bonding and hiking in the rain, of cousins building Legos, riding bikes, rolling down grassy hills and waving sparklers in the dusk, of outings and memory-making, are all possible thanks to a very steep price. Others have paid for this life we live, and I am grateful. Those who have lost someone to service – including my mom, who remembers her brother today – deserve our remembrance and respect. It’s easy for me to type those words, but living it out, through a bone-deep commitment to the highest ideals and values that make us American – that is where the meaning lies.

May 28, 2018 by Jolene

Guest post: Today’s fight for democracy

This Memorial Day, I bring you a guest post from an author very dear to my heart: my dad, Michael Harrell. He had some thoughts weighing heavy on his mind today, and when he sent them to me, I felt they were worth sharing. He agreed to having them posted here. Whether you fully agree or not, I hope you appreciate the perspective of someone who has spent a few more years than I observing this great American experiment.

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It has been a very long time since World War II. That is the last war that clearly saved the world from despotism and hatred. In that war there was a clear “right” and a clear “wrong.” The individuals who served in that war are now few, and aging. It is far too easy to forget that very many men and women sacrificed lives, health, finances and comfort to defeat a very evil enemy, and maintain the freedom and democracy we now enjoy.

We are now used to wars of questionable purpose and value. Wars fought with increasing technology that removes death and suffering ever further from our own homes; wars that seem too significantly motivated by financial gain or political advantage.

It is, I believe, important to remember that many gave up much that we can live as we live. I fear we have grown fat and lazy, and are unappreciative of the blessings we have and live with from moment to moment. Memorial Day is a time set aside that can serve to help us remember and appreciate what others have sacrificed.

We are now in serious danger of losing much of what those men and women gave to save. What a powerful enemy could not take away by violence, we are day by day giving up voluntarily. The man, elected by citizens of this free nation, who places the wreath on the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier today, is bit by bit eroding the foundations of our democracy. Nor does he bear this responsibility alone; he is the leader with many who follow for their own purposes.

Truth may be the most significant and lamentable casualty. Reshaping facts and misleading statements have always been a part of our democratic process. Our current leadership, however, now seems to have no attachment to honesty and factual evidence, with resources for verifying truth being assiduously undermined.

A free and unbiased source of information, on which we can make evidence based judgments, is another fallen trooper. Mistrust and scorn for any evidence that disagrees with a strongly held construct seems determined to put to death all but collaborative “evidence.”

Respect for one another, regardless of ethnicity, country of origin, age, sex or any other imagined difference is perhaps an equally remorseful loss. The seeds of hatred, division and disrespect are being sewn widely and deeply.

Certainly we have never been a perfect society, honest, faithful and respectful in all situations and at all times. We have had tremendous failings. But until truth can be resurrected, evidence restored and respect regained, can we expect to continue in the freedom and democracy we so underappreciate?

God’s Kingdom is our true country, and citizenship in that country is the only true security. I pray that God will soon put all concerns to rest, and establish His forever true, faithful and respectful government on this earth, as it is throughout the rest of Creation.

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Michael Harrell is a respiratory therapist, an exceptional husband, father of two and grandfather of four, a deeply devoted Christian, an avid reader, a talented vocalist, excellent chef and baker, and disability advocate. He lives in Ooltewah, Tenn. with his wife of more than 40 years and his faithful guide dog, Honor.

May 17, 2018 by Jolene

Best laid plans, or, Lina’s last day of EC

Today did not go as planned.

It was Lina’s last day of early childhood preschool. She has spent three years at Pearre Creek Elementary, where the teachers, therapists and staff have loved her and she has loved them. She has thrived. She has asked for school on weekends and holidays. This place has been good to her. It has been good for her.

I was emotional before the day even began. (You’re shocked, I know.) I cried as I thanked the amazing bus driver and aide and watched that preschool bus pull away for the last time.

I got my post-gym shower and headed to Target to pick up a few things. (How many disasters have begun that way?) It wasn’t until I looked down at my phone, well into my meandering, and saw the calendar reminder for Lina’s end-of-year school party, that I remembered I was supposed to be at her school an hour early. I was supposed to bring baby carrots. I was supposed to hear the kids perform the songs they’ve been practicing for weeks, the ones Lina has requested we sing along with on YouTube every day this week. It was five minutes until the 30-minute party started. I was 25 minutes away.

I cried all the way there. The landscaping truck in front of me belched black fumes as we lurched through the worst 3 p.m. traffic I’ve ever seen between Target and Pearre Creek. I’d like to tell you I got it together before walking into the classroom, but nope. I cried again once I got there, as kids were already heading out the door with their parents.

But Lina – that girl, that light of my life – was overjoyed to see me. She was relishing her party snacks like they were the only food she’d have that day. I worked valiantly – really, it was downright heroic – to regain control of myself, and I just managed to avoid ugly crying again as we said our many good-byes.

As I look back tonight at the photos, I can (mostly) let go of my frustration and disappointment. Because, y’all, look at these faces. The pictures are grainy and blurry as I scrambled to catch the moments, but look at the way these women, these super heroes of Pearre Creek EC, have loved our girl.