There's No Place like Briarcliff: A tribute

You live way-the-heck out here?

I left the big city to come here- - a place drowning with deer and coons and noisy birds. For 35 years, I had lived in Houston, and this was my first move away from my beloved big-city home. I was terrified. And, I asked around to see if the city was going to follow me.

They all say "it's coming" this way- -the city stuff is coming our way. . . just be patient.."

Easier said than done.

It took some time for my soul to get quiet enough to realize that hoof noises probably weren't unfriendly fire from nearby Narnia, new strangers could become family, and snakes weren't just going to hunt me down.

When I first got here, 20-lb coons would dangle their toes down literally through the front porch. We cut down the sacred dying pines, despite what the tree hugger told us to do, and wiped away their wooden-hotel ladders.

The LOUD boasting stars at night and island country living demanded adjustment.  It's really 25 minutes one way to get to a grocery store (very much like the movie We Bought a Zoo).  Once you leave the "land of people," you are committed to the island.

And, when you live way out here, people don't just come out to visit. Friends, repair people and family even boldly ask often "You live way-the-heck OUT here…(WHY??)"

I once waited for three weeks for the dryer repair person to show. And, there was one place that delivered pizza. It took forty minutes. The pizza was cold. But, I didn't care. I was just so happy when the delivery man arrived. I even met him extremely cheerful at my driveway while he smirked and assumed I was crazy. 

The small-town social pressure was quite scary too.  Sometimes, introverted me felt like I was in a closet closed with a microphone BOOMING. I went from living in a city of more than a million people to one of about 1800.  I didn't know how to make the right impression. And, I felt like everything I did do mattered more somehow.

I had to make friends literally for the first time in 35 years. Some friendships sunk to the ocean floor, some drifted away, and some slowly revealed hidden treasure.

I felt more like an uprooted tree or a flapping fish plucked out of water-gasping for air.  I wasn't quite prepared for the out-of-big city feeling. I had to make a choice: I could either let the weeds grow over me or adapt. 

And socially, even at the tender "wise" age of 35, being in a strange new city still felt like being tossed cold into the pecking order of a high school cafeteria deep end.

It was up to me to assimilate into the new pockets- -even if I kindof just wanted to climb into a tree and hide- -and only reveal myself when I was ready, like the Cheshire cat.

And, there were the critters. . .

Months into the move, I survived seeing a snake or two, a scorpion in the bathroom, and I began to ignore the rumors of the infamous mountain lion. 

As I was regaining my cool, thinking I could do this country thing, I saw a strange caravan of critters in my unfenced backyard one morning.

I remember loading the kids in the car at 6:30 am and looking up the hill. I saw about five dogs galloping ten feet from me. They stopped to stare at me.

I thought to myself: "Who's lost all of their dogs?  How irresponsible of them!"

(Pause)

"Why do all of those dogs look alike?  All of those German Shepherds look alike. Who would have lost all four of their dogs at once?" 

(Pause) 

(Pause)

"Why are they traveling together?….."

(Wide Eyes) 

"Ohhhhh."

Yeah, it took me that long.

The laughing party I had heard at 3 am outback was a pack of coyotes.

I didn't need coffee that morning to wake me up.

The Enchanted Kingdom

Though there were days when I'd tried not to think about the enchanted kingdom surrounding me. I'd relate all too well to the bird scene in Failure to Launch. . . She says, "I just need one bullet."

Some mornings, I yearned for city sirens over loudly happy morning birds.

I wondered why the red cardinal I saw pooping on my car door window every single morning was so chipper. He would peck at his "friend" in my mirror while he decorated my car.

Beyond flying creatures, like in the Oz journey, I met characters along the way that have taught me life lessons.  They've grabbed my heart as if they've been in my life forever. 

Characters like Linda who was the first to welcome me with a phone call and say hello.   She introduced me to everyone on the island, was there for me when my car broke, helped me jump the battery, and called a neighbor to get my kid to school.  She's a little bit of a Wonder Woman. She can coordinate a charity, orchestrate miracles and make magic happen without the use of even a telephone booth's time. I actually think she could rule the world if given the opportunity.

Characters like Molly who shared, without holding back, what it's really like to have three boys and try to make messy life work. She was there when my face got ugly with tears and I just didn't think I could do it. She reminds me daily that it's a journey- -this mom thing. With her, I never have to be put-together. She lives 48 seconds away, together as moms, I really believe we could survive any Island reality show. 

Characters like Mandi, my walking buddy, an amazing musician and teacher. I used to ask if she'd run with me, but she always turned me down- -instead slowing me down for a walk which was just what I needed. Weekly, we end up climbing the hills, aka "mountains" to me, together. We hike with laughs, stories and quality time. 

Characters like my inspirational artist neighbors Steven and his wife Audrey who remind me to dream big, stay true to what I believe in and dare to make the world a better place. Steven wouldn't brag, but with prayer, long hours of brush strokes, his art moves mountains literally in the lives of charities all across the globe.

Characters like Jana who cheered me on in my job search, kept me smiling, and listened to me whine along the way. I wanted to give up, but she wouldn't let me. Cowgirl boots in tow, my face in the mud, she put her hand out and yanked me up. If there was a cowgirl woman super hero, she'd personify the guts of a modern cowgirl. She's got so much character and grit. I whine. She says push harder. 

Characters like Mary, my piano teacher, who brought my heart back to the piano.  She became far more than a teacher to me. She shares stories and listens to mine. Some days, I find I spend more time with her sharing stories than in our piano lesson. Her wit and knack for honest comments keep me laughing. She said once, "You're a clear window. I can see right through you!" And, there are days when she's a clear window too, sharing stories and smiles and threatening to "fire" me if I don't practice.

Characters like "Mr. Spider" who is opera joy personified. He lights up the room. He comes up my driveway playing his guitar. He makes my son smile. I found myself playing the piano with him once during my son's music lesson. He's singing and playing and carrying on. I believe you could go anywhere with Bob and you'd never ever be bored. 

Characters like Cheryl the mail lady who actually takes time to wave every time I see her- -even as she's literally trying to drive an American car like an English car every single day.  She, like the janitor in The Breakfast Club, knows everyone, knows everything- -has this secret power and yet, you'd never know it as she waves to neighbors as if we are all rockstars.

Characters like those stupid suicidal deer. They play chicken with cars. They keep you guessing. And, they stand along the invisible fence line in the yard to drive my dog CRAZY.  They remind me that power can be more or less an illusion. 

These characters, like puzzle pieces, make this time I have here on this "way-out-here" island somehow make sense.

They all say "it's coming" this way- -the city stuff is coming our way. . . just be patient.."

And, then, I realize, now, that I actually am patient. 

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