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Browsing Tag: #proud
I didn’t want to go to work today. Sometimes I have an ominous feeling on the anniversary of September 11th, those are the days I keep my bug out bag within arm’s reach. Sometimes I’m despondent, dwelling on the lives lost starting with this fateful day through the War on Terrorism. And sometimes I’m just mad. Today I was dejected, thinking about how useless it all is. And the hurricane, on top of all that. And yes, it could have been a lot worse, but is that how we’re going to live our lives? It was going to be dreary and wet and cold. So I just wanted to loll in bed and read, and kinda forget the rest of the world existed for one day. In short, I wanted to be selfish. On this day. This day. THIS day. The day when selfishness was banished from society in one of the hardest cities on Earth. When strangers kissed on rooftops, thankful for their lives. When emergency personnel rushed into burning, tumbling buildings just to save one more life, knowing they probably couldn’t save their own. When the President of the United States of America kept reading to kindergarteners after receiving the worst news possible whispered in his ear. So yeah, I could get out of bed. I could do this. And so I drove to work, thinking about people in New York City and Washington 16 years…
About a week ago, there was a post on the Sevierville Speaks Out Facebook page. A gentleman was requesting local writers message him their word rate to write a local article, 2000-4000 words, twice a week. I was tagged by four people. So I thought, I’ll humor them. “Good morning” I wrote, using his name. “I was tagged by a few people on your post in Sevierville Speaks Out. I’m a native Sevier County resident. I worked at the Co-op downtown for 13 years, and now work as a secretary for {I’m not publicly announcing my location to potential stalkers}. I’ve met a lot of local color…some might say I AM the local color. 😁 I’ll be completely honest, I don’t have a rate per word. I have a blog that I started last year. Please feel free to check it out and you can get a clear idea of my style. Amysappalachia.com I have written two articles for our local fair book, an article for 911 magazine, and the feature for the first installment of Sevierville Living. I would be interested in learning more about your position. Thank you.” The message I got in response five days later was clipped and standardized. “Hello. We offer 3 cents a word. If you are still interested, please send you name, address, and a sample writing the 3rd person…
This deplorable, gun-toting, educated, working white Southern republican female is having chicken-n-dumplins and sweet tea tonight with her middle-class, patriotic, white Southern Christian husband. There should be something for everyone there. If you’re mad about the outcome of the election, you’re probably not still reading this. But I will say this: those of us who grew up in church are accustomed to hearing the church isn’t a place you go. Church is withIN us. Same with the government. Government starts at home. Get educated. Get involved. Per Ghandi, “Be the change you want to see in the world.” Or if you want to get out, by all means, don’t let me stand in your way. Oh, and…
There’s a lot I could say about today. Heck, there’s a lot I can say about any given day. But I know what it was like to be scared to drive home on this day 13 years ago. I know how utterly terrifying it was to put your life in someone else’s hands & fly for the next year or two. I know what it feels like to worry about being a target, due to being in such close proximity to Oak Ridge. Yes, I profile. Yes, I’m prejudiced against Islamic people. (Actually, I’m not prejudiced. I despise almost everybody equally.) And it makes me angry that people disagree with our presence overseas, argue that we didn’t need a war. “Fight fire with fire” isn’t just an expression. You actually do fight fire with fire sometimes, especially in the case of brush fires. See, fire is reckless. It’s dangerous. It has nothing to lose, it takes everything in its path with it. So you start another fire, and control it to make it collide with the uncontrolled burn. They meet, and there’s nothing left for it to take. So it burns itself out. My metaphor here is the kamikaze pilots. They know nothing but fighting, death, & destruction. So that’s how you make them understand. You can’t reason with evil. Imagine getting up to go to…
Y’all settle in. There are a few places in this world where life gets real. You know what I mean. Where rubber meets the road. Hospital rooms, church altars, courtrooms, gravesides, and bars at two a.m, to name a few. Delmar Maples was my co-worker for my cumulative years at Co-op. He didn’t say much, but that’s ok, because what he said counted. He always, always, said “Good Morning,” (which seems to be becoming less common these days). If yes or no was adequate, that’s what you got. I think the first time we ever really had a conversation was when he was showing off his first grandson, he carried him all over the store, grinning ear to ear. Delmar was a small man, with ropy muscled arms, dark eyes, and a scraggly beard. He was never without a mesh-backed “old man” hat that he carefully folded down in the center, essentially making a crown around his head. He traveled with a limp & a whistle. Delmar changed the oil in Patsy many times, & filled a bunch of propane tanks for me & the rest of Sevier County. He didn’t complain or ask for a break in the rain & sleet & snow. He simply bowed his head to the weather & kept working. He crushed boxes too, & I’m ashamed to admit how many times he saved…
