A long way from the rice fields

When she was just a baby, I used to look out over the rice fields from my perch on Crowley's Ridge and pray that she would grow up knowing that there was a whole world out there full of challenge and excitement. I wanted her to know that Paris was the city of lights in Europe, but Beirut was it's counterpart in the Middle East. I wanted her to know that while Memphis dry rub was the way to do ribs, the Carolina's really have pulled pork down right. I wanted her to sing the songs of Hank Jr., Elvis, the Boss, and Lynyrd Skynyrd with equal passion. It was important to me that she know the difference between Kentucky Bourbon and Tennessee Whiskey.

At 13, she transitioned from a tiny school in a tiny town in Arkansas to a pointy headed private school in New Jersey. She didn't know a soul here except for Landi, Catfish, Buckwheat and me. She had never lived through a 'jersey winter', but she had survived many an Arkansas summer. She had never even seen a soccer game played when she went out for the soccer team at school. Four years later, the pointey headed private school awarded her the Wigdon Cup which recognized the Most Athletic girl.

The first week of August her first year of college brought good news and bad news. The good news was that she had 'made the soccer team' at college. The bad news was that Katrina was coming in, and that New Orleans was evacuating. She wound up never playing college soccer, but she graduated with Honors from Tulane, and got a full ride scholarship to UMASS for her Masters.

She has her Masters degree, and she'll be 24 years old in September. She has a job lined up in Indianapolis, and will move there next month. It's just now soaking in that 'Indianapolis' will be 'home' for her. It's not like the time in college, when she's gone, but 'here' is still 'home'. 'Home' will be 'there', in Indianapolis. Mapquest claims it's 11 hours and 35 minutes away. That's a long way.

I'd like to visit the spot on Crowley's Ridge where I used to stand and look out over the rice fields. This time of year, you can see the farmers working the fields. From up on the ridge, it looks like nothing has changed in the last 24 years, but so much has changed. She has seen the lights of Paris and grandeur that was Rome. She has shopped the bustling, dusty markets of a North African town. She's stood on Times Square to welcome the New Year. She'll holler 'Hotty Toddy' or 'Go Yankees' with equal vigor. She can speak to you in English, French or Arabic. She's all grown up now, and I am so very proud, but she'll always be my little girl.