Blog Archives

#SouthernComfort

4/29/2015

The #South is home now. Nine months before my big move in July 2014, I went to #Nashville for the first time. And when I did, I fell in love. With the people, the music, the friendly "Ma'am," that came with the tilt of a hat and a smiling nod, the gorgeous mountains, and of course, the warmer weather that makes everyone just a tad more polite. From that moment forward, I determined to get myself here.

There's something easy about the #South. The air is warmer. The breeze, sweeter. And so is the iced tea. Having lived in the Northeast most of my life, I'd heard all the common #Southern stereotypes. Guns, giant crosses, and the KKK pretty much sum it up. But none of it is true. Yes, you can own a gun in Georgia without a license to protect yourself in your home. Yes, there is a lot of pride in having faith here. And yes, there are people who are prejudiced. But I've not met a single one. Except for a local cop who believed anyone who lived in the mountains was a hillbilly with missing teeth. He and I no longer speak, by the way.

When I drive back from #NewYork, and I see those giant crosses greet me, I know I'm home. And it's not because I'm a Christian. It's not about religion here so much as it is about faith. "Have a blessed day," is a common refrain. You don't even have to believe in God; hearing it just makes you feel better. As does being surrounded by people who unapologetically believe in something bigger than themselves.

I guess I am one of the "hillbillies" living in the mountains, but all my neighbors are lovely people who take pride in their homes and families. Yes, there seems to be a Ford F-150 in every driveway, but the folks who live here are educated professionals who just prefer to be away from the hustle-bustle of places like Marietta, where there is so much commercial confusion, it takes two hours to go less than 30 miles at certain times of the day. And, you also can't see the night sky in the same way either....

There is the odd abandoned shanty or trailer here and there that might make Northerners feel as though banjos are playing in the distance, but if there are, you shouldn't be scared. It's likely just a nice couple sitting on their front porch in the glorious sunshine. If you have the guts to stop and say hello, even if you're a stranger, you'll be given a glass of lemonade and invited to sit down.

I've been to little white-washed country churches. Sang pretty hymns surrounded by pretty hatted-ladies in flowered dresses. I've driven down one-lane dirt roads, heard roosters crowing in the distance, saw the sunrise over the mountains, watched cotton fields bloom, sipped on sweet tea, and enjoyed #Southern smiles--the kind that make your eyes crinkle tightly in the corners.

I've climbed the mountains, too. Stained my hands with red clay while digging a piece of quartz out of the ground in a dried up creek bed. Watched the sun dabble the mountain side in light amidst a thickly-wooded landscape. Felt the temperature drop nearly 15-degrees after the sky turned wild pinks and oranges. Watched the face of the moon become bigger and bigger still in a formal ebony sky dressed in brilliant diamond-like stars.

There's nothing more beautiful, or more comforting, than the #South. It's my home. Think it always has been. Hope it always will be. When life takes me thousands of miles away, I miss my #SouthernComfort. I miss the forest in my backyard. The trees. The birds. The stars. The sunsets. The way it smells after a spring rain.

I miss so much of what I find beautiful here. But that's what happens when you love a place; it becomes a person. A character in your continuing story. And the people you know become the landscape, part of the scenery.

#Love is the thing that ties a person to a place and a place to a person....

Yup, there's no doubt about it: I'm in #love. And no matter where I am, or what I'm doing, my #SouthernComfort is always with me.

0 Comments

#Guilty

4/25/2015

1 Comment

I'll admit it. I'm #Guilty. #Guilty of not pulling the social trigger sooner when I should have. Even in the face of total lies. And, inordinate toxicity. Why? Because I believe in people. Even people who don't deserve it. I mean, we all have bad days. We also all lie; it's human nature. #Compassion is therefore an integral part of the equation. But my sense of social ethics is not always shared. It leaves me vulnerable to all kinds of pain. But perhaps more importantly, it allows me the freedom to find joy.

Trusting the wrong people is a bad habit of mine. But if you don't trust, you can't win. And, no matter what, I never lose.

That's not to say I haven't had my share of trouble. When you risk as much as I do, trouble is just part of the deal. I was recently reminded early Friday morning that some of that trouble is of my own making. Even though formidable, I'm still very human. I sometimes make rash decisions. And do things I wish I could take back.

Though I attempt to avoid allowing fear to be a factor in my life-choices, it's not always possible. I'm pretty much scared all the time. But being afraid, and admitting it, isn't bad. Because, despite that fear, I do what I have to anyway. #Courage, you see, is necessary in order to not only find the #extraordinary, but to meet it with an open heart.

My heart closed after the losses suffered when 2014 also came to an end. Little by little, in the months that followed, I slowly opened the bloody red chambers once again. Simply put, wonders followed.

I've had more fun than I ever thought possible. Learned so much about myself and the world. Made more friends than I can count. In the last three months alone, I've met 32 new people. Minimum. Whether policemen, professional poker players, CEO's, chefs, chemists, actors, artists, engineers, baseball players, firemen, CPA's, farmers, writers, teachers, students--it's been an incredible ride. A ride that wouldn't have been possible without the previous loss. And something I'm very, very, very happy not to have missed.

For the first time in my adult life, I got to live alone. Walk around naked any time of day. Sing at the top of my lungs. Dance like no one was watching...because no one was watching. My music was loud. And I'd stay up until all hours doing whatever I wanted. I cooked meals for no one but me, unless I wanted to do otherwise. Yes, I was alone, but only when I wanted to be. The moment I didn't, it was easy enough to find friends willing to meet at places like Marietta Diner or Radial Café, go to the movies, take a hike, or grab a coffee at Starbucks near the Square.

And that's not all: I've expanded my professional horizons, too. Thanks to that open heart, I met a friend in my travels who's helped me realize a dream that had stalled out the moment I turned the key to my "new life" in July 2014. The plans I made for myself then were good plans. Noble, even. I wanted normal things. I tried to be an average person. I really did. But failed miserably. And that, in turn, made me miserable. Because I felt as though I missed out on potential joy. Not now though. Now, I know why it all went down in flames. Because I needed to rise from the ashes. I had to close every single one of those doors I'd opened. They were the wrong doors. Right for some. Just not for me.

The hard part? Being patient, and poor, until then....

#Guilty

1 Comment

#Greenwood

4/15/2015

0 Comments

As an undergrad at University of Rochester (UR), I studied all-things-medieval.; the English Department was loaded with medievalists like the infamous Russell Peck, who once graciously fed me breakfast amongst his daffodil-laden garden after I helped teach a section of his course on Chaucer. Though I ended my time at UR in 19th century American literature, being a part of the world that included characters like King Arthur, Lancelot and Guinevere, Robin Hood, and of course, his Maid Marion, was a fantastical ride I've never regretted.

One of the projects I had opportunity to work on as a medievalist was a TEAMS Middle English text about Robin Hood with editor-scholar, Thomas Hahn. Most people think of Carey Elwes in Men in Tights or Russell Crowe. You may even remember the Disney animated movie with the wily fox??? Yes, Kevin Costner was Robin Hood, too--the only one in history with an American accent yet playing a British folk hero. And we may never talk about Robin Hood and not mention the 1922 film with Douglas Fairbanks. The black-and-white movie made Hollywood history with the famous dueling scene shot as mere shadows on a wall. Let us not forget Errol Flynn's 1938 version either....

My job was to obtain original Robin Hood texts on microfiche, copy them, then transcribe those texts to be included in the volume. My work mostly took place in my favorite building on campus: The Library. The first day I came to the University, I walked up the granite steps and through the heavy wooden double doors that were at least 100 years old at the time, entering a marble-floored wonder with stacks upon stacks of books, some of which were hundreds of years old. The reading room alone was worth the price of admission (though I attended UR on a full merit scholarship so was only paying for things like books and living expenses, not the $32,000/year tuition--and that was 20 years ago!).

Filled with incredible light from a stained glass window across from the entry, right above a shiny-black grand piano, the room was flush with books along the shelved walls in between mahogany paneling and floor-to-ceiling windows covered in velvet draperies that kept direct sunlight off of the ample leather seating spread around the ballroom-sized space. I spent every minute possible in that reading room. Thinking of it now, and being over 1,000 miles, is rather an emotional experience.

Time and perspective can still surprise, even after 43 years on the planet....

In a way, the library reading room at University of Rochester was a greenwood, like Robin Hood's Sherwood Forest. A space where anything was possible, even a group of men maintaining their masculinity while unapologetically cloistered together in the woods. Though I cannot escape into my beloved reading room at the moment, the smell of leather and old books filling the air, my time living in the mountains of #Georgia has a similar feeling, despite the lack of Tiffany stained glass and an ebony Steinway.

My adventure began a lot like Robin Hood. After enduring several long, bloody battles, I was exiled by an evil regime, forced to retreat to the woods to regroup. I even had my own Little John. Though he sadly died after an arrow attack. Not much of a loss, actually; all he ever did was eat. And yes, at this point, I've collected enough friends to claim a band of my own merry men. Very merry. There's a Sheriff as well, but he's far from the villainous sort. More of a real life superhero. It is my job to study them, after all....

My house in Atlanta is on the edge of a literal forest. Driving here is a peaceful, blood-pressure-dropping experience. After miles upon miles of green trees, mountains winking at you in the distance, the crude and abrupt commercialism of reality melts into the background. You turn down a road that winds up and down, cutting through row upon row of pine. My backyard is full of them. And Nature dances on my very door step. I've been happily met here by deer, fox, all manner of lizard, snake, insect, bats, and more birds than I've ever seen in my life. If I could stay here forever, my soul would rejoice. But even Robin Hood couldn't stay in the safety and comfort of the greenwood.

I belong to a wider world. A world full of movie and television stars, professional poker players, live audiences, screaming fans, designer duds, wrinkle-free skin, D-cups, and envelopes full of cash. I fly above the trees on a regular basis, gazing down at the mountains below from wispy white clouds before landing in nine cities over twelve days. Arrows are useless at such heights. And, speeds.

I'm Rebecca Housel, not Robin Hood--though we share the same initials. And every single day, I'm grateful for who I am. My life has been a walk in an infinite greenwood. The sun always shines in my world. And though I'm no thief, rich or poor, I will never stop sharing that #light with those in need.

#Greenwood

0 Comments

About the Author

Rebecca Housel, Ph.D., known as "The Pop Culture Professor" (TM), is an international best-selling author and editor in nine languages and 100 countries. Rebecca, listed in the Directory of American Poets & Writers for her work in nonfiction, was nominated by Prevention magazine essayist and best-selling author of The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks, Rebecca Skloot, to the National Association of Science Writers for her work on cancer. Rebecca has published with best-selling author of The Accidental Buddhist, Dinty Moore's literary nonfiction journal, Brevity, and with commercial publications like Redbook magazine and online journals like In Media Res. Her recent interviews appear in publications such as the LA Times, Esquire, USA TODAY, The Huffington Post, Inside Higher Ed, Woman's World magazine, and Marie Claire as well as on FOX news, and NBC. Former President of the New York College English Association, Housel was a professor in both Atlanta and New York, teaching popular culture, film, creative writing, literature, and medical humanities. Dr. Housel currently works on the Editorial Advisory Boards for the Journal of Popular Culture and the Journal of American Culture; she has also worked as a reviewer for Syracuse University Press and Thomson Wadsworth. A writer of all genres, Housel has written and published both fiction and nonfiction in over ten books and 398 articles, essays, book chapters, book reviews, and encyclopedia entries.

#SouthernComfort

#Guilty

#Greenwood

About the Author

Archives

Categories