The Journey to Boston

In little more than 4 weeks, we will be visiting Jonesboro, my home town.  As has been my habit since dad died, when in town, I will go out to the cemetery with some bourbon, and have a drink with dad.  Mom is there now, as are Coachie and Miss Dot.  This will be a tough visit.  Dad's been gone for 13 years, Mom for 3, Miss Dot for 11, and Coachie for 2.  I have to have a drink with each, and stop and visit with Dr. Mckee too.  Scott's mom and Frank are near Coachie and Miss Dot, so we share a drink too.  Usually, when I visit, I am meloncoly.  I miss them all so very, very much, and I have to have a designated driver for the visit.

On this visit, I'm not going to be depressed.  I have good news to share.

On May 17th, 1986, in St. Bernards hospital, a little girl was born.  She screamed bloody murder, and began a journey.  None of us are are born the person we will be.  We are all the product of our mentors, our experiences, our decisions, and our determination.   She left everything she knew in Wynne Arkansas for Australia when she was a junior in high school.  On her return from Austraila, she moved to New Jersey.  After spending half a year studying beer and wine in Austrailia, she dropped mid year into a pointy headed intellectual school in New Jersey, and took up Soccer.  She excelled.  With each challenge she found, she found greater strength, and more resolve.  Daddy Doc would have been so proud.

She was accepted into Mount Holyoke.  It's a womens Ivy League school.  Two generations from the cotton fields in Mississippi, this girl is Ivy.  She's Ivy not because she's a legacy.  She's not Ivy because of a big donation or ethinic advantage.  She's Ivy because someone on the Admissions committee said 'holy shit, look at this kid'.

So, as with every kid, there was a idealistic streak that had to be massaged via a year teaching Spanish in an inner city school in New Orleans.  She left New Orleans still idealistic, just a more worldly and knowledgable idealist, and began Law School.

She went to law school at night, and worked as a cheese monger first, and later as para-legal by day.  She played Rugby on weekends, and tormented both her sister and her brother at every opportunity.  Buckwheat loved her more than can be said, but that true also for Dixie, Chaunti and especially for Tony Perez....and for most folks who have known her.  Landi and I count ourselves as being lucky to know many of her friends, some dating back to high school.  One, a doctor in the making, is like another daughter to us, and her father is one of the few people on this earth in whom I have absolute trust.  She has just a good a taste in friends as she does in dogs.

Tomorrow, my journey to Boston will be a short one.  South Plainfield to Boston isn't long or hard.  It's 4 lane all the way.  Her journey began in the rice fields of Arkansas.  It went through Australia, Jamica, Spain, and Bolivia.  It was a journey of academic and self discovery.  She has triumphs that only the birds saw, and failures that only she percieved, struggles where no one knew, and success. 

Strenght isn't succeeding when everyone cheers for you.  Strength is when you prevail when no one knows you are struggling.  She made every thing look easy.

She get's her license to practice law in Massachutsetts tomorrow.

If you cross her, give you soul to Jesus because your ass his hers.