What are we becoming?

I've been thinking a lot lately about what a city like mine is suppose to become.

Not what people say it should or shouldn't be. Not what gets argued the loudest in meetings and online, or shows up in headlines or the comment sections.

But what it looks like if we strip away everything... street by street... block by block.

Because right now, it feels like everyone has an opinion. Not just in my city but I see this happening in many cities across the country.

I see people fight for industry.

I see people fighting against it.

I see people debating things like data centers as if the entire future of a community can be decided in a single yes or no.

We talk about development.

We talk about beautification improvements as if they are a waste of time and money.

And somewhere in the all of that... I find myself asking a different question.

What kind of a community are we becoming?

Because the future of any city isn't just built in big decisions.

It's built in small ones too.

In how we care for what's ours.

In whether we support local.

In whether we believe our community is worth the effort. If we don't value these things ourselves, how can we expect other to?

I say this with love, because this is my home.

But pride matters.

Pride in our history.

Pride in our neighborhoods.

Pride in how we take care of what belongs to us.

And that kind of pride doesn't come from government alone.

It comes for all of us.

We already have something here.

We have history.

We have character.

We have stories worth telling.

We sit along route 66 - a road people travel from all over the world to experience.

For places that feel lived in.

For the stories behind the buildings.

For the moments that make a stop feel like something more.

That's where art matters.

That's where culture matters.

That's where the things people often dismiss as "extras" become the very things that give a community its identity.

They bring people together.

They create experiences.

They give people a reason to stay... and a reason to come back.

So for me, a strong community isn't just defined by what it builds.

It's defined by what it values.

Because we don't have to choose between industry - old and new - or culture... between progress and pride.

We can have both.

A hardworking community with deep roots... a place people are proud to call home.

I believe we can have both and I'm sure there's other small towns and community across the country are asking this same question. What are we becoming?

Picking Up Where I Left Off

I started this blog years ago - I mean many years ago.... back when I thought I had a pretty good idea of how life would go.

(Spoiler alert: I didn't.)

Back then, I wrote about the little things... the funny things... the everyday moments that didn't seem like much, but somehow were everything.

And then ... life got busy.

Not the kind of busy you plan for. The kind where one day turns into a week, a week into a year, and before you know it... 14 years have passed.

Although, if I'm being honest... I didn't disappear completely.

There are a few posts in there where I tried to come back. A few "this time I'm really going to do this" moments... and every time, life had other plans.

Somewhere between steel toed boots and scones, businesses and dreams, plans and reality... I stopped writing.

Not because I didn't have anything to say.

But because I was too busy living it.

And the truth is...life didn't slow down just because I stopped writing about it.

I recently found my old blog posts again.

I read through them and laughed at some... paused at others... and in a few I met a version of myself I had forgotten - but somehow still recognized.

"She" thought she knew what life would look like.

"She" didn't.

And neither do "I."

A lot has changed since then. Life has a way of doing that.

Some things have been built.

Some things have been lost.

Some things have simply shifted.

I've said goodbye to people I love... and learned that some chapters don't end the way you expect - they just quietly become part of who you are.

And sometimes, I catch a glimpse of myself in a reflection and think, when did that happen?

But here's what I know now:

Life keeps moving whether you write about it or not.

So I'm back.

Not to start over... but to pick up where I left off.

The old posts are still here.

You're welcome to scroll through them - they're a glimpse of who I was then.

And this... is where I am now.

Still learning

Still figuring it out.

Still living it.

But if there's one thing I know for sure... Every day is still an adventure!

Saying goodbye

It's New Years Eve.  It's not just the year that I'm saying goodbye to, It's my dad.  This has been the most difficult time of my life!  My dad... the man who always believed in me, taught me so much and loved all of us unconditionally - is gone. We lost him on December 23, 2016

I know most girls look up to their dad as the strongest man in the world, who can do anything, and no one can measure up.  Well... He was all of those things and more. He shared his love of music, standards and jazz!  As a little girl I remember him playing either the piano or guitar and singing the songs that are now part of the fabric of my everyday life.  

He lived 84 years - and boy did he live.  Even though the last 10 years of his life were slowly robbed from him because of Alzheimer - his life was adventurous.

He wasn't a risk taker like me (I think I made him nervous) but with his job he was able to travel the world and work on some exciting projects.  He played in a band. 

He provided a comfortable life for his wife of 60 years and raised 4 kids.

He shot pool like a shark, had a great sense of humor and as my cousin said,

"He was the smartest man" that she'd ever met!

It's the everyday memories that I'll hold on to -

like eating cinnamon and sugar toast as we watched classic horror movies late at night while everyone else was sleeping.

Washing the family car together as he asked me how school was going.

And near the end, on the days that we knew me - I mean really knew me - he call out my name - "There's Brenda Jane" - as I walked through the door. 

Even on the days that he wasn't quite sure who I was, he still seemed to know he needed to watch over me.

As I kissed him goodbye he would ask, "how's your car running?" and "When will I see you again?"

Always the dad - Always the protector!

So as I say goodbye to 2016, I'm not sure if I'll ever be the same.

But don't worry Dad... the car's running fine and I'll see you tomorrow!

(Either in my memories or dreams - but I'll see you!)

Love

Brenda