Elvis, Kasie and one hell of a Death Week.

Moving to Memphis, TN at 23 years old was an eye-opening experience in many ways.  Sure, this “Yankee girl” had spent some time in the south – Charlotte, Charleston, Savannah…. but those places are the “east coast” south.  A fair amount of outside influences have soften the edges, rubbed clean the old and replaced with some shiny new parts.  Still genteel, still outlandishly hospitable with unbelievable food, yet somehow softer.  More open.  Breezy.  Very different from THE South.  THE South feels closed off.  Amid all of the wonderful southern traditions there is a layer of old pride.  It is stubborn, stifling, mysterious.  Always a bit mysterious…..

We arrived in Memphis during The Firm era.  The parallel of our arrival – a young banker joining the ranks of the long-standing financial institution – was never lost on us.  It wasn’t long after arriving, and already being called a damn Yankee by a very serious older {gentle}man, that the ultimate pop culture, mind-blowing event began to unfold right before our eyes.

Subtle at first, it was more of a hidden secret that slowly unfolded into the greatest people watching spectacle I could have ever imagined.  I had already seen a lot – Beale Street, Tunica Mississippi casinos, hole in the wall barbecue joints …I had even seen Graceland.  On a “regular” weekend.

The celebration of the death of Elvis takes over Memphis for an unbelievable amount of time.  10 days.  TEN DAYS.  The most loyal fans humanity has to offer come into the city happy as a puppy with two tails.  They are ready to pay homage to The King of Rock and Roll in ways you can only imagine. Sure, Elvis impersonators and blue suede shoes are the imagines that come to mind, but trust me when I say that seeing an entire family – babies through the granddaddy – pour out of van dressed in various forms of Elvis takes it all to a new level.

Elvis sets the standard in celebrations of the dead.

Never in a million years would I expect to have my own death week…my own surreal remembrance of someone who I call The Awesome Girl for so many reasons.  Every August, always aligned with the start of the school year, I find myself going back to 2005, tracking 7 days on the calendar that forever changed my life in ways I am still understanding.  I am religious about it.  My Death Week is marked Day 1, Day 2…and there is nothing in the word that keeps me from remembering, as best as I can anyway.   Truly, for the trauma of the events that unfolded, I remember far more than I ever thought I would.  And thank GOD I do because it is my way of honoring a woman who I loved and admired deeply.  Some say I torture myself emotionally, reliving details, walking around on the verge of tears….but how else do you handle the loss of a BFF?  At 32.  With a 2 year old.  And pregnant with Baby Elizabeth.  Who had a husband and a career and friends and family….. It is not torture – It is an honor.

It has now been 10 years.  Nine times I have walked this memory path with Kasie’s family and friends.  What I have realized is that the memories of that week are sacred to me.  What the week brought to Phil, Kasie’s parents and family…..it is truly incomprehensible.

I know now that losing Kasie holds more for me than just a tragedy and a yearly death week.  Much like Kasie there is beauty and love and magic….there is loyalty, humor, and just a bit of insanity in these memories.

This story, Kasie’s story, has been sitting on my keyboard just waiting to be shared, for years.  When I allowed myself to take the risk and share my family’s journey on a blog, it was only from drawing strength from Kasie.  She was a risk taker, a believer in herself, a cheerleader for her loved ones and friends….she would have said to me “Do this girl!  It will be AWESOME!!”  And I am starting to believe she may just be right.  But perhaps it isn;t my story alone….perhaps it is OUR story that should be shared.

Tonight we are going to celebrate the memory of a remarkable woman – someone who lived life with enthusiasm, believed in the pure gold value of family and friends, loved her son the tater tot to the moon and back…..someone who deserves more than anyone (even Elvis, King of Rock and Roll) her own Death Week.  Maybe we will come in sundresses found at Marshall’s for a song (ok, maybe not Bobby…wait…that would be hysterical!!)…..we will most certainly all come with love and daisies in our heart.

It’s time to talk about Kasie and the lessons she gives freely to all of us every single day.  She deserves nothing less.

Love you girl!

My ADD :: Loud And Proud (and not something we necessarily need to cure)

I love to self diagnosis.  Currently, in my personally created medical record that exists solely on my head, I suffer from ADD and Seasonal Affective Disorder.  Actually, “suffer” is totally the wrong word – I really don’t mind having either.  Although the irritation and anger I feel towards the weather, the ridiculously cold and rainy weather we are having to endure this winter, may be a bit much.  I need the sun.  I’m pissed without a healthy dose fairly regularly (daily).  I don’t live in Charlotte for the clouds BUT I have had some lovely days on the couch, by the fire, watching Netflix in the past few months.

My ADD has been with me (undiagnosed) all my life.  There isn’t a single person in my family who doesn’t agree…. a bit too enthusiastically at times I might add.  Unless you were setting desks on fire and running willy nilly through the hallways, most kids in the 80s were spared the label.  Instead we just performed below our ability (very happily I might add), skipped from one passionate pursuit to another, never cleaned our room because we kept forgetting, lost a lot of things because, again, we kept forgetting, and eventually figured out ON OUR OWN how to cope(ish).  My family had a funny little word they used when talking about me… it was a way of describing the essence of Trish without turning to a medical label.  I kind of like it.  No one in my adult life uses it except my immediate family – in fact no one, including my husband, really knows what it means.  I stumbled upon the definition just this morning….

Shooshly (adj) :: (1) to live in such a wonderful and exciting way that one’s attention can quickly be diverted from one idea/task to another even in the middle of a conversation.  (2)  the admirable quality of being able to be passionately involved, on a short term basis, about a million ideas in a limited amount of time  (3) used to describe a charasmatic individual who lives life optimistically and full of energy, often speaking too quickly and inappriately loudly (especially when excited)

(Definition courtesy of Wikipedia)

Just as an aside – in the time I have been writing this I have also stopped to make more coffee, stared off into space, checked the weather for next week, checked Facebook, stared off into space, thought about what I would wear today, and checked my email.  I like to call it multi-tasking and taking effective work breaks.  Amazing what can get done in 15 minutes….

Thinking in Bubbles

I always have bubbles of ideas in my head.  As I focus on one bubble, it grows.  I fill it with energy and ideas and thoughts.  But sometimes (ok, a lot) there is another bubble, off in the distance, that shimmers.  It doesn’t matter how much I love the current bubble, the shimmering bubble is pretty irresistible.  I have trained myself to resist the shimmering when I absolutely have to, but I don’t find many cases where that is necessary. So I often attend to the shimmering bubble, see what’s up, and come back to the first bubble.  OR I might stay and hang with the second bubble….and completely forget about the first one.  

So, again, here is what happened in the time to write the above paragraph – I made more coffee, I checked in on the basketball scores (my family bracket is currently in first place), burned my tongue on the hot coffee, French braided AKs hair…. and I am back.  I know that watching this process could be brutal to a lot of people (my sister would probably be weeping or laughing hysterically – or both) but it works for me.  And is suspect it works for a lot of people…especially kids.

Working with middle school kids for so long I have come to realize that most of them are struggling with their bubbles….and they do not necessarily have ADD that needs to be corrected. I don’t have the scientific data to back this up, but I do have 15 years of observing 11-14 year olds in the classroom.  We think they need to develop focus and attention in assigned time blocks (let’s say 45 minutes) to absorb copious amounts of information that we decided is important.  The time in class is a result of scheduling, which is essentially a manipulation of the school day to accommodate the adults and the physical space.  There is nothing magical about 45 minutes (or 50 or 120) for student learning.  In fact I think it is the most fundamental mistake all schools are making (more on that another time).  

School makes most middle school students appear to be somewhere on the spectrum of ADD. 

I don’t really have ADD – but I do have a very unique brain.  I am sure other people think and function the way I do.  Many don’t.  What worries me is the tendency to “normalize” our kids brains.  Are there real and indisputable cases of ADD that need attention and medication?  Absolutely.  Are there far too many kids (especially adolescents) who are being medicated for their bubbles?  In my humble opinion, yes.

This is a big, fat shimmering bubble for me.  No doubt it will catch my eye again.  In the meantime, if you have kids, rather than worry about their attention span, maybe focus on celebrating how lucky they are to be shooshly.  According to the definition, it’s not a bad thing!

Beautiful bubbles courtesy of Unfocused Xmas Lights by JustMarDesign on deviantART