New York City has no shortage of beautiful and iconic backdrops for your shoot. I’ve collected the advice from talented photographers I know, did my own research, plus my own experience from my latest photoshoot in NYC to give you tips on creating a successful photoshoot in NYC or elsewhere. So, regardless if this photoshoot is to add a professional touch to your insta or for timeless family keepsakes I hope this post save you time in your planning efforts.
Understand the Purpose of Your Shoot
Not only should you have a clear vision of what you want to achieve during this photoshoot, you need to make sure everyone involved understands that too. If you’re imagining an edgy artistic concept while your photographer is thinking grace and elegance, that’s sure to lead to frustration and disappointment in the end.
If a single picture is worth 1000 words, and you’re going to be taking pictures for hours, think of a photoshoot as a photo novel…and you’re the main character. Take some time to understand the story and narrative you want to tell. Check Pinterest, IG, and other social media sites to guide you. Consider making an inspiration board with all the photos that appeal to you. Be able to articulate what attracts you to the photos you select. For example, is it the editing, the use of lights and shadows, the minimalism or maximalism, the filter, the posing that draws you into the photograph? Take all of this to provide your concept to your photographer.
“Winging it can be fun but you need at least a rough plan of action. Make sure both sides know and agree on a game plan. So plan, plan plan…and then don’t forget to be spontaneous!” — Aaron Mann, photographer, Back Home Again Photos
Select the Photographer That can Tell That Story
Knowing what kind of shoot you want to achieve is going to help you select a photographer. While a wedding photographer can certainly do other styles of photos, his or her area of expertise is couples, not children. So, if you’re photographing a pack of rug rats, you might want to reconsider. Look at the portfolio and determine if your photographer has the experience to make your vision come to life.
Clearly, not New York City. But the photographer and I worked together to come up with the concept to tell the story of home.
Other considerations:
Also make sure you choose a photographer that knows the city or area.
Make sure your energy levels and personalities complement each other. You’ll be spending a lot of time with each other, you’ll want to be comfortable with each other. In fact, be sure everyone involved in the day has compatible personalities.
When I selected a photographer, I knew I wanted to work with my friend, Keith Brooks. Other places you can check for photographers (outside of a google search) Flytophotographer or Freelance.com or KYMA or even Craig’s list
Selecting a location
Your inspiration board is going to direct your location. Manhattan is expansive. And you’ll be covering a lot of ground if you try to get pictures of everything. I suggest sticking to one neighborhood. Since my concept was exploring SoHo and Brooklyn, two neighborhoods relatively close to each other, it wasn’t much distance between each shot and offered plenty of things to shoot along the way.
For family photoshoots you’re going to need easy access to bathrooms and room for little ones to release their energy. Consider Central Park, smaller parks, and the Central Park Zoo for photoshoots involving children.
Under the Manhattan Bridge is a popular photo opportunity for tourist.
Date and Time
The early model gets the most popular tourist attraction. Highly iconic spots: Flatiron building, Brooklyn Bridge, DUMBO, Statue of Liberty, Times Square, the Imagine Mosaic, Top of the Rock are all going to have thousands of tourists doing the same thing as you. Get there early at first light golden hour if possible. Also remember that the light has a way of playing peek-a-boo with skyscrapers casting shadows as the sun moves throughout the day. Check sunrise and sunset schedules. If possible, do a bit of homework and check the way the sun looks at certain locations at certain points of the day and schedule your shoot around those times. Also keep weather and season in mind.
Hair and Make up
If you’re going to have hair style changes, do the most challenging hair style first. That means, that effortless messy bun that takes a ton of effort to achieve…come with that already done. It’s a lot easier to undo it for later shots than put it up. Bring make-up wipes to get that MAC lip color off and change up the style. Depending on your style, faux lashes never really hurt anyone.
Go to Sephora and have them teach you how to contour. You can make multiple visits to learn different techniques. Better yet, bring a talented friend along or schedule your shoot after getting your makeup applied.
This was a test shot done with my friend’s iPhone while the photographer was adjusting lenses and playing with light. Test shots are helpful for the subject and photographer.
What to wear
I planned attire that was easy to switch up. I had leggings which could easily be worn under jeans, under a skirt, and as standalone pants (regardless of what the modesty police try to say). That’s a quick change for three outfits. I also wore a tank top under my shirt and sweaters for easy top changes without the need of a changing room. I brought a pair of comfortable walking shoes plus some sassier shoes. I packed a small jacket that was easy to fold into a small tote. Again, your concept is going to guide this. My friend who lives in NYC offered a whole rolling suitcase of outfit changes and boots. Coordinate with your photographer and most fashionable friends on what colors and patterns would work best.
All Black base makes an easy wardrobe change with the right accessories.
Props
I’m a notebook and reading book kind of girl so those are always my go-to accessories, but consider pens, umbrellas, guitars, cameras, etc.
Fashion accessories can change the overall look of an outfit. Change up a look with hats, scarves, gloves, totes, purses, jackets, change of shoes, hair accessories, sun shades, and faux reading glasses.
On location props- There’s always a street-side florist in the city that that you can buy flowers for a charming prop. Of course, just remember if you buy, instead of borrow, you’ll have to keep up with the flowers for the rest of the shoot or give them away. This last visit to the city, we also saw Christmas trees being sold. Could have been a cute prop doing a two-woman carrying of one of the trees but we passed.
Posing
Reference Google, Instagram, Pinterest or browse through your favorite magazine to practice and get an idea of at least three poses. Make one your signature pose.
Since I’m kind of a cheese ball, I’ve learned my signature pose is leaping. After reviewing several photos, I realize I’m always in the air. That doesn’t always work for sophisticated shoots. I’d suggest printing off a pose cheat sheet so you can recall some posing ideas on the spot.
Remember to take a few moments to loosen up from time to time. I had a tendency to get stiff and statuesque. Shaking my shoulders out and being reminded to keep my hands and face soft and relaxed helped.
Pre-coordination considerations
If you’re taking pictures indoor, you might have to make phone calls to the location just to be sure you have permission to photograph locations.
Create an itinerary. Select the locations, the types of shots you absolutely want at that location, and what makes efficient sense considering time of day, lighting, and travel times. Also take consideration on how you will get from point A to Point B. Sometimes it’s more cost and time efficient to take a Lyft. Other times you’ll be better off hailing a cab instead of waiting for a lift. If it’s rush hour, head underground for the metro.
Consider places for bathroom breaks. Starbucks serves as the default NYC public restroom so get an idea where the nearest one is in each of your locations ahead of time. Take the opportunity to go each time you have the chance.
In addition to your change of wardrobe, be sure to pack: Snacks, pain reliever, water, comfy shoes, dry socks for rainy days, lip glosses, makeup remover, and anything else unique to your shoot.
Get some rest the night before.
Eat a meal before your shoot. It’s best for you and the photographer to grab a bite in a coffee shop before. Reason one: you’ll be on the same eating schedule. Two, it’ll give you a moment to chat about the day.
And of course, relax and have fun during your shoot!
Selfie on the Brooklyn Bridge with my photographer, stylist, and creative director.
When last-minute trips happen, I’m so grateful for pre-planned city guides. I let Lee Tumbe’s 24 Hours in Miami guide my itinerary when I didn’t have time to plan my own trip. However, I did some tweaking for some personalization. I booked my first time in Miami less than a week in advance. This is my Miami itinerary to have an action-packed 24-hours in Miami. You may want to spread out the activities across two days and schedule more time to relax. Here’s what to do during a weekend in America’s hottest Beach town To get the Budget Breakdown, check this article out.
The Generator is known luxury hotel popular in Europe and making its way across the USA.
The Generator is a luxury hostel, yes, a luxury hostel that’s just 100 feet away from the beach and a 20-minute drive from the airport. The spot offers several sleeping options with the cheapest being a co-ed bunk room shared with 8 people. You could go upscale with a king to yourself. I opted for an all-girl bunk room. It could be fun to book an entire bunk room for a group of friends for a hen or bachelorette weekend. This hip hostel chain is popular across Europe an making its way to America. I totally recommend it. The arrangement offers a great way to socialize in a way that traditional hotels don’t offer. This hostel also has a cafe that makes a great brunch. If you’re short on time & money during your 24-hours in Miami, I highly recommend it.
If you’re not short on time and money, head on over to…
When I arrived, my only option was to sit so close to another couple that I could have been mistaken as part of their party. The little shop only has seven small café tables. The cafe was hot and humid. The door was left propped open. I guess the air conditioner didn’t work. Miami is the worst place to be AC bereft.
The space cleared out quickly. Of course, the spot by the ever-popular flamingo wall was taken by four athleisure-clad hotties dishing the scoop in Spanish. As soon as they left, a couple with a tall red-headed man relocated from their tiny table to the flamingo seating. For a bit, only the three of us were in the shop. When they left, I posed for my instagramable moment. The staff is made of photography pros. They understand that their setup was meant for photography. Heck, it’s the whole reason I went.
The Food
As Lee noted, the shop is out of the way and expensive, but they do offer a 10% military discount (that I forgot to ask for). All this highfalutin’ food set me back $45. The #28 Salmon & avocado sandwich ($16), #5 Smoothie berries, banana with almond butter ($11), and #22 dragon fruit bowl ($16) were all delish. But I paid $16 for a bowl of fruit.
It’s easy to eat vegan and gluten-free here but questionable if you have nut allergies as all the dairy is replaced with nut milks. I ate from an environmentally friendly, decomposable bamboo spoon. Even the takeaway bottles are made of reusable glass. Perhaps the lack of AC was intentional for environmental sake.
The food, although overpriced, was tasty and healthy. The setting is charming. I still maintain that I would not go out of my way to eat here, but it’s a nice option if you’re near Miami Beach Botanical Garden or the pedestrian-only Lincoln Ave Shopping Center.
Head over
to Miami
Like LeBron James illustrated when he said, he was, “Taking my talents to South Beach,” most people don’t realize Miami and Miami Beach are two separate cities with different Mayors. I just thought Miami Beach was the name of a beach in Miami. Miami is a coastal metropolitan in southeast Florida (population of 453,579). Miami Beach (population 91,917) is an island about 10 miles away and connected by bridge freeways.
This place was free for me with my military ID general adult admission is $22. The estate offers discounts to children, people with college IDs, and guests in wheelchairs. It’s closed on Tuesdays. The house was gorgeous but the gardens steal the show. You’ll spend plenty of time outside. You’ll want to get there as soon as it opens for the best lighting, avoid photo bombers, and beat the mid-day heat.
1030 Historic Black Police
Precinct
I’m a history buff so of course, I’m going to seek out the history of a town. Located in the heart of the historic black Overton neighborhood, the former courthouse and police department stands as a reminder of how segregated and divided this country has always been. The museum closes at 4 pm.
1130 Lunch at Jackson Soul Food
Just a 5-minute walk away. You’ll walk under an overpass that a community of people uses as shelter. I did it. You can do it too. Just don’t be surprised. Call the restaurant ahead of time because the hours can vary based on events.
This museum is free for military members. General adults pay $16. I strategically planned this museum after Vizcaya Museum and Gardens because it opens later and stays open. That gives me more time to enjoy each. The Perez Art Museum closes at 6 PM every day except Thursday when it extends its hours for three extra hours and Wednesday when it’s closed.
If I had to pay to see this museum, I’d probably also pass. Don’t get me wrong, I loved the modern art here far more than say the Guggenheim in Miami. However, it’s not the Louvre, which charges the same price. Plus, there’s so much free art in Miami that paying Louvre prices isn’t necessary. Now, the grounds outside the museum make a beautiful setting for a lovely stroll.
1400Frost Museum of Science
The science museum is right next door to the Perez Art Museum which is also free for those with military IDs. Otherwise, it’s $30 for “adults” over 12. Since I’m not overly sciencey and the science displayed here is juvenile in nature, I’d skip it. The planetarium shows, which costs military members an additional $5 could be a cool date idea. I was able to browse through both museums in an hour.
1500 Wynwood Walls
Speaking of free art…Wynwood Walls is an outdoor exhibit but all of Wynwood is full of art all over the walls. This is a legit outdoor museum with an indoor museum at the end.
Before the gentrification of Wynwood, things were affordable. Then the artists came and made the neighborhood cool and trendy. Then came the investors and priced the artists right out of the neighborhood.
1630 Azucar & Domino Park in Little Havana
Rounding out the day during your 24-hours in Miami, I went to the iconic Azucar Ice Cream Company. It’s on Calle Ocho. You cannot go to Miami without visiting the street PitBull, “Mr. 305” raps so nostalgically about!
Right across the street from the sugar shop you’ll find Domino Park. It’s beautiful to see dozens of people from across a diaspora come together, unite, and play dominos. It’s the culture that draws tourists to witness and observe. The action clears out around 6 pm.
Once the sun goes down, Little Havana is the place you’ll want to be. I ended up in ____ocho. It’s a Cuban restaurant that didn’t serve Cuba Libres. I settled for sangria and asked for the food menu. The waitress must have forgotten (or didn’t understand) because when I asked for the menu the third time, she present me with the check. I can’t vouch for the food but the live music and dancing set the ambiance. Oh well, back to Miami Beach.
2100 Night Life
You cannot spend 24-hours in Miami without dancing until dawn. After a shower and an outfit change, it’s time to rally on South Beach! Voodoo Rooftop Lounge & Hookah – This place is great. You can grab a meal, chill while smoking hookah, dance, and drink all in the same place. There’s no cover but they do ID. IT stays open until 3 am. Take a stroll down the strip and see where the night takes you.
Last week I introduced this series of “Best of America” posts explaining that my buddy was making the move to America from Germany. He’s never even visited before, and just like I was in his country five years ago, he is eager to start exploring mine. These are cities in America that I can’t wait to return for a visit and where I would never pass up an opportunity to live. Some towns a great for a short stay but these are towns where I’d consider saying forever. People ask where I could see myself settling down. Here’s my short list of contenders. If you have the chance, spend some time in these places to get a feel for all of these very different but very American cities.
1. Nashville, Tennessee
Nashville is like the boy who lived down the street that you never paid attention to until you see him all grown up and your like dang, have you been this awesome all along? I grew up just up the interstate from this town and it took leaving the country and returning to party on my “Welcome back” tour before I really learned how great this big town is. Granted, the possibilities of Nashville change dramatically once you turn 21.
It’s urban, country, hipster, and Christian all wrapped into one quintessentially southern city. This town takes pride in its culinary offerings. Sure, the southern classics are on point here, but this town is cultured enough to showcase foods from all over the world (try living in a town with one Chinese restaurant and one Mexican place and you’ll come to appreciate food diversity). Parks, landscapes, professional sports, SEC Sports, Parthenon, universities, museums, boutiques, music (not just country and bluegrass), and the people are the sweetest in the south.
Now, few people have learned that if you want anything out of me calling me sweetheart or darlin’ is a smart start (actually don’t, because I’m going to call you a sexist and get you a gender studies lesson so long with so much vehemence you’re going to have a complex about uttering those words to anyone else for the rest of your life). But the folks in Nashville (and southerners in general) can get away with it every day. And it’s hard to walk around grumpy when you’re getting called sweetheart all day every day.
2. New York City, New York
There’s nothing left so say about this city that hasn’t already been said in song. Whatever you want to do in life, you can do in New York City. In my short time spent in one borough, I walk the scenes of a black and white photos I’ve seen in history books. I got dressed up and went to Broadway. I experienced the crazy guy in the subway. I had to change my route to avoid getting catcalled. I got my hair down and got offered socks, and flashlights, and toothpaste. I ran a marathon in Central park (ok so I ran like a 2K on the same path as a marathoners were running, close enough), I ate well, I went to the shops, I went to the museums, I found long lost buddies living in the city. And this was just one section of a big city over the course of three days. There’s so much more! And although the real estate is steep…who needs more than a room with The City is your back yard?! New York is our American movable feast. New York is our everything and more.
3. San Diego, California
Back in our initial training, we were asked an ice breaker question about our favorite towns. Everyone mentioned some faraway place from a vacation memory of long ago. Everyone, except my bunkmate who proclaimed, “I’m from San Diego, and I think it’s pretty awesome.” How right and unbiased she was. San Diego is a great place to be young and single (old and single, or married with kids).
Let me describe my lifestyle if I lived in San Diego. After spending the night dancing the night away in Gas lamp, I’d meet up with friends for yoga in the park by the bay. After our sun salutations, we’d head to one of the dozens of options for tofu scrambles with mimosas. Mine you, I’m a carnivore, but I will eat the heck out of some teriyaki tofu. Maybe I’ll spend the afternoon with surf lessons or in a library or watching the game with UK Alumni Assoc. (because they always come on extra early west coast time). I’ll grab street tacos…which have ruined me and turned me into a Mexican food snob (Chipotle just doesn’t cut it any more). I’ll spend my years in flip flops and shorts. My dog will experience the chill life as well. With Dog parks, dog beaches, doggy day camps, pet resorts, all-natural, gourmet pet bakeries, and pet friendly shops and outdoor dining he will have an active social life. He can meet and be friends with sea lions in LaJolla(aka water dogs). Anytime there’s a concert, sporting event, performance, I’ll be there.
4. San Francisco, California
I’ve never fallen in love with a city as fast as I fell in love with San Francisco. Maybe I was having Euro withdrawals. Maybe I got to walk around in the setting of Princess Diaries. Maybe it was a perfect escape from SoCal. Whatever the case, I’ve never felt more at home in any other new city. The city’s layout with iconic cable cars remind me of Lisbon. Expensive real estate, that forces the acquisition of smaller apartments create the European social culture that turn coffee shops and restaurants into extensions of one’s living room to host and socialize with friends all night. The city doesn’t bat an eye at drinking wine in the park before noon. Plus there’s Little Italy and I’d argue the best China Town in the country. And that’s just lifestyle. Work-wise, industry, technology and startups thrive in the bay.
The walkability, active living, fresh food living, public transportation, ecofriendly, expats, food culture, sidewalk café that Le Corbusier lamented infested Paris are the pieces of sophistication that make San Francisco ideal.
5. San Antonio, Texas
If you’ve ever met a Texan, you undoubtedly are well aware of their almost scary, obsessive loyalty to their state. These are the kind of people that if they have a tattoo, it’s a permanent scar of their state. Or their state’s flag. Or both. Their homes, offices, and cars are decorated with Texas paraphernalia. These are the type of people who, while in labor, will hold their child in side until they can get some doggone Texas dirt under their bed and/or the Texas flag hung overhead so their offspring can be born on Texas soil and under the Texas flag. You know how guys who are taller than 6 feet always seem to find a way to let slip their height into the conversation? Like “Hi I’m brad, 6 foot and a half an inch tall.” Or Morehouse grads like to slip in that they are a Morehouse Alum within the first three sentences of meeting? Like the dude at the gate, after checking my ID, says, “Good Morning ma’am. Where’s you commission out of? Oh, I’m a Morehouse man, have a nice day.” Well, that’s also the tradition of a Texan. They will make sure you never mistake them as a resident of any other state. Even Beyoncé feels the need to randomly insert mention of Texas no less than 5 times per album. Seriously Bey, Texas as nothing to do with anything else in Daddy Lessons, Countdown, Who Run the World, or Bow Down.Anyway…San Antonio was once my #1 favorite town in the world before traveling everywhere else. It wont take a long visit before this intoxicating city has you wanting to adopt Texas as your home. It’s military friendly in a way that no other town in America is (even all the ones with bases) and blends Texican culture and heritage in a way you can’t find elsewhere. Plus their Missions baseball taco mascot is pretty worthy of fandom on it’s own.
6. Washington, DC
There’s no doubt the DMV is a fantastic area. DC was the final destination on my first flight journey. It’s where I first road an escalator. It’s where I first met someone who didn’t speak English who helped me how to use an automatic sink for the first time. Now that I think about it, I started school with a daddy-daughter vacation and ended school the same way.
When deciding the priority of marvel in relation to the other locations on this list, I had to weigh some odds. You have all four seasons, but one of those seasons, it snows (actually, snow is possible in three seasons). Central location to other fabulous cities (Philly, B-more, Annapolis, NYC) but it snows. It’s on the same side of the country to my family. But it snows. But the capitol building looks amazing in the snow. And after the snow comes the blossoms. In DC, the world comes to you. The moment you step out of your door you can touch education, culture, history, and the best that America has to offer.
7. Scottsdale, AZ
To be honest, I can’t tell where Scottsdale ends and Phoenix begins, so installment includes the grater phoenix area, to include Tempe. Spa resorts, professional sports, boutique shops, old west history, desert mountain hikes, cultural developments, active living, fine living, even a really nice church (New City Church) is what draws me to this area of Arizona. Plus, the night life and brunch life are tops. It’s hotter than Hades all summer, but the weather all winter and the amenities make it worth it. The weather is also what makes it a snow-birder’s paradise. To escape the frigid cold elsewhere, folks spend their winters here then return to their second homes elsewhere when temperatures rise.
8. Boston (and the surrounding area)
Imagine calling America’s hometown your hometown. When you almost twist your ankle after your stiletto gets caught in the cobblestone, remember Phyllis Wheatley, Louisa May Alcott, and Abby Adams likely walked in the same narrow alleyways. When you are being cheered on/ or doing the cheering with throngs of supporters in the city’s annual marathon, remember Katherine Switzer who did the same while running away from officials trying to physically remove her from path. When the suburbs get flooded with history enthusiasts in red coats, remember the events that forged a nation that happened right here! During the summer Boston is my #3 favorite city in America. This area would have received a higher rating if it wasn’t so frickin’ cold in the winter. But for the months when it is warm, the locals really take advantage. Boston is a town of runners and rowers. It’s sensory overload with plenty to see, do, eat and experience packed in a little, walkable space. The pride people take in their city adds to its charm. As do the accents and grumpy commuters. Although the night life needs a little help (why is last call at midnight? Why can’t I double fist? Why are happy hours banned?), living in Boston is the pulse of New England.
9. Portland, Oregon
“Why didn’t you tell Portland was so awesome? I know you’ve been here!” One of my (Texan) friends texted me during her recent city break to this river town. She was correct, I had visited and Portland is indeed, such a trendy town. And in en effort to share the wealth, Portland is one of my favorite American cities. Portland offers all the typical amenities that make cities easy faves: professional sports, walkability (with the exception of San Antonio), varied nightlife, art, local food diversity, quaint boutiques, and transportation system. Like California, Portland offers easy access to wineries, beaches, and ski resorts and a laidback style. What makes this city unique is that it’s eclectic. If Portland could be a character, it would be a fusion of Ms. Frizzle and Mary Poppins. Features that I love about Portland include high-end shopping without the sales tax, Saturday Market (which happens on Sunday), free-flowing craft beer, and a very open, non-pretentious attitude. Art is integrated in the everyday lifestyle, from local made crafts to the tattoos. Artful expression can unquestionably be found in the food. I can’t pinpoint a particular niche of food the city is known for, other than fresh and local. The town is constantly reinventing its food with a creative twist. I love that Portland’s iconic rose garden was designed just in case bombs destroyed all of Europe’s rosebushes during World War I. Don’t worry, even in times of war, America is dedicated to securing roses from extinction.
10. Molokai, Hawaii
It’s the most Hawaiian of the islands, unspoiled by tourism. It’s the closest you can get to your own private beach. It’s the tropical version of my hometown where everyone knows everyone else. Except you can sit on your back porch and watch whales. And in the event that this gets old, you’re a ferry ride or prop plane hop to more action packed Maui or change of pace Lanai. And who wouldn’t want to own memories of Hawaii?! My only issue is it seeming to be on the edge of the universe from the rest of the world (AKA my world aka Kentucky & Paris).
A friend from Germany informed me he got a coveted position to live and work in America! He’s super excited and ready to explore all the best America has to offer in his limited, three-year tour. Since I’m the only person living in America that he knows, he asked for some direction on where to start. With all that is going on in our nation right now, which seems to highlight the worst in my country, I got excited to reflect on the best of America. I’m so thankful that I had the opportunity to take two cross country road trips and see the glory of all fifty states. So I have some idea about America’s most interesting spots. But how do you prioritize these trips that took me my entire life to accomplish?
How do you plan a three-year American vacation for someone who has never visited America?
There’s just so much to see and do and never enough time or money. And from the citizen’s perspective, we take so much for granted that an expat finds unique. From historical sites to annual events, you’ve got to get the full American experience and you don’t have countless opportunities to redo the experience. How do you make the most out of America in the three years he’s given? If you only had three years left in America, what would you do and see?
So, I’ve decided to start a “Best of America” series to help a friend plan his trip & for me to quantify all that I’ve seen in the past few years in my American adventures. Stay tune, because I’ve outgrown blogger and in the process of upgrading this blog! But until that happens, here are my quick assessments of my American travels to pass this information on in the meantime.
Usually when it comes to storytelling it’s best to start at the beginning. But this is the kind of story that needs to start from the ending and be told in rewind.
When my feet were back on Earth, I knew I just pressed through a new limit. I felt like a little kid wanting to rush to get back in line for the cool, curvy, long tunnel slide at the park.
Jumping out of a plane or rather, flopping out of a plane, was the thrill of my life. As you start accelerating toward the Earth, there’s uneasiness about it. The initial panic of falling takes hold. And yet, although you feel like you are falling…there’s no land underneath your feet, the Earth doesn’t seem to get any closer. Once you top out at your maximum speed of 120 miles an hour…which is a speed that will get you passed by a Volkswagen hatchback on the autobahn in the far right lane… you just chill and loosen up and start enjoying the ride. You stop being cognizant that you are actually still free-falling. You get their surreal sensation that you are just hanging out in the air, the World far beneath you — out of reach. Floating. Dare I say… flying.
While hanging out suspended in the sky, I learned that a sky diver has an amazing amount of control in the air. You can direct your fall. You can spin, flip, soar along. My photographer soared around Conner, my tandem instructor, and I to get the best shots from all angles. How can he do that? I asked, skill in the free-fall. Conner explained with his arms. In fact, Conner was holding my hands because in my panic, I wasn’t aware of what I was doing with my hands and it was unintentionally moving us around in the sky. We just chilled and chatted a while before the chute deployed. Conner took it upon himself to unsnap the buckle across my chest. What the heck do you think you’re doing?! I expressed so serious concern for things coming undone in the air. He tells me to chill out and to push my butt out…cus that’s a normal thing for a guy who is strapped to your back to say. So I did and, sure enough, I was sitting, comfortably in the sky. The two of us chatted and enjoyed the SoCal scenery from above as we slowly floated back down to Earth. There’s the city, the Pacific Ocean and mountains all down below.
Conner asked me, “So, you think you’ll do a jump by yourself?” While we floated, I thought there was no way I’d hurl myself out of an airplane. I don’t even do upside down roller coasters. To me, jumping solo would be like giving yourself a bikini wax. I might be able to apply the wax, but no way am I just going to yank it off myself. “We need more pretty girls in the sport, “he flirted. Homeboy was working for his tip and it worked like a charm. I just might be willing to fulfill this diversity shortfall (pun!). The ride to the ground was so unbelievable.
Even with all my creativity, floating in the sky was more than I could imagine just 15 seconds earlier.
Fifteen seconds before, experienced jumpers, first-time jumpers, photographers, and videographers all piled in this little, bitty propeller plane. Some folks didn’t even have seats and just sat on the floor next to the door. It took me back to sophomore year of high school when Andrew was the first in our crew to get his license and we took it as a challenge to see how many 16-year-olds could fit in his Honda Civic at one time as we cruised our town’s main street.
The party-like atmosphere in the plane with all the joking and co-workers poking fun at each other made the whole situation relaxed without focusing on the crazy adventure we were about to experience. At some point during our climb to out 15K feet, Conner says, “Let’s do this, come sit on my lap.”
Everyone starts moving about like musical chairs in the tightly packed cabin with bench jump seats. Now I am not a type-A kind of person…I usually go with the flow. But when it comes to hopping out of a perfectly functioning aircraft…Type-A, micromanaging missy arrives. While Conner was attaching himself to me, I was steady double checking everything he clipped on and tightened. I know the value of double checking for human errors when it comes to safety or security. This was no time for a mental lapse. I didn’t even recognize how obvious I was making it until one of the pros called me out on it.
“Man, your partner has no faith in you.” He said.
Conner tells me with the straightest face, “If we get separated on this jump, just meet back at the little yellow square where we started.”
The little yellow box was where divers stood to get the three-minute “pre-flight training.” The training consisted of explaining what was going to happen more than what we needed to do in case of emergency. My boss, who flies and jumps out of air planes for a living, already gave me the run down. He predicted they’d give me a lame briefing concealed as training and omit issues that folks who don’t jump wouldn’t know to ask. So what happens if the jumped passes out of has a heart attack? What are the winds like today? Where’s the pull for the reserve chute? Asking the questions seemed to throw the staff off. They weren’t expecting inquiry. My co-worker and soul sister asked the same questions in her training. And got the same reactions…”These are very intelligent questions but don’t worry about that. Nothing will go unplanned.” No. What happens? She pressed before getting an answer.
I gave Conner my, unamused face. I know he is not playin’ right now! I knew about the reserve chute. I knew the canopy would deploy if, at a certain altitude we were still moving at 120 mph. What I never considered was what if I came aloose from the harness (aloose…my Alabama grandma used that word…if you need a definition, use context clues).
I was strapped to him so tight it was impossible to separate from him. He was basically wearing me something like the adult version of what parents of infants walk around with their baby attached to them. I think there were two jumps before me. Conner stood and I had no choice but to stand with him. Homeboy must have killer quads to lift me like that. He made the decision how and when to flop out of the plane. So there was not backing out. No matter what, wherever he went, I was going too.
My photographer was hanging on to the side of the plane waiting for us just to fall out before diving toward us in the sky.
A few life events brought me to this point. I’d fallen (pun!) into an inactive, slump toward the end of last year and wanted to re energize myself in the upcoming year. So when I came across a discount for tandem skydiving on Groupon back in December, I jumped (pun!) on the opportunity. Plus, I was supposed to jump in Tuskegee back before I turned 25…but my work schedule at the time didn’t allow it when all my friends went. My dream got deferred. I planned to redeem it on my birthday…which, among my group of friends, is a triple birthday weekend. So, our group of 10 —including my friend’s 60-year-old mom, made plans.
I love traveling because it opens my mind to new considerations and perspectives. I learn something on every trip because I’m challenged past my comfort zone. This experience did the same thing for me that an international trip does (at a fraction of the price). I’ll never be the same.
Here are a few perspectives I gained from my 3 mile trip back to Earth.
1. The imagination is an amazing, powerful thing. And you can do so much with it. Here I am imagining crashing into the ground when I could have been using that time to imagine myself flying faster than a speeding bullet to save someone in distress. I could have imagined I was Lois Lane and Conner was superman. I could have been imagining I was a 101st Airborne paratrooper filling the early morning sky with my comrades ready to liberate France. But I chose the less fun and exciting way to use my imagination.
2. In life, the first step or two out of a comfort zone is of course terrifying and overwhelming but pressing through that comfort zone is where you get to the good part. I’ve already learned this lesson a thousand times before, but applying it doesn’t always happen. My friend who also jumped that day had jumped before. She told me it was surreal serenity. When I got out of my fears I was able to understand what she was talking about. All the noise of the world is miles away.
3. In love, I want to metaphorically be strapped with my tandem jumper. No space between the two of us. We go Book of Ruth with it: wherever you go, I willgo. I will go through the falls and shocks with you if it means I getting to soar above the world with you later. After the three-minute training and harness fitting, I met the dude who would toss me out of a flying plane. I put all my trust & faith in another person. I trusted my life to a complete stranger. And because I did, I got to share amazing moments that I’ve never shared with anyone else. Sometimes, a bit of faith is so worth it.
4. Just Jump! The longer you sit there and look…the longer you sit there and look. That’s it. That’s all that happens. Falls don’t last forever. Don’t analyze too much. Overanalyzing to the point of paralysis doesn’t do anything. Getting active is a great way to get out of ruts. Do something different. For Forest Gump it was a cross country jog. For Elsa, It was building a winter wonderland. For me, free falling released months of built-up tension and frustration. It was an acceptance of whatever will be will be. When you say you’re going to do something, commit and just do it. Get in shape, start a business, travel…take Taylor Swift’s advice and jump, head first fearless!
5. I’m pretty sure the writer of Aladdin and Jasmine’s “A Whole New World” had skydiving experience.
I experienced a new fantastic point of view with unbelievable sights, taken wonder by wonder, indescribable feeling, soaring, tumbling, freewheeling on an endless diamond sky. As a little girl I daydreamed about the magic Disney created in that scene and it really happened in real life. I even got told, “Don’t close your eyes, you paid for this view.”
I’ve literally been somewhere over the rainbow. I’ve jumped into the wild blue yonder. I never knew the vastness of the sky to truly love it. And I hope, if you’re healthy and able you get to know it too. They say the sky is the limit and I’ve already visited. Perhaps I’ll make the sky home.
I think the sweetest people you’ll meet in America live in Iowa. Everyone we met went over and beyond in the helpful department. My Airbnb host was one of the best. These ladies we met on a trail offered maps and gave their best picks for must-sees in the area. Even the Secretary of State saw my dad and I (In our awesome Kentucky tee shirts) and took time out of his day to give us a personal tour of the capitol building! The neighbors in the hoity-toity neighborhood where we stayed were just as welcoming and friendly as you could imagine. I think they’d give the shirt off their back if they felt you could use it. Every. Single. One. A solitary stick-in-the-mud could not be found.
Which is completely counter to my introduction to Iowa which was in the form of my high school musical, The Music Man. If you recall previous posts where I mention my Idaho Beau…well, when he too was in the Music Man back in the day so when we were gallivanting around Europe we’d both break out into song and choreography from our respective productions. Needless to say, this musical runs deep within the both of us. Iowa Stubborn is the first song showcasing the entire cast. The defining part of the song states:
“We can be as cold as our falling thermometers in December If you ask about our weather in July. And we’re gosh darn stubborn We could stand touchin’ noses For a week at a time And never see eye-to-eye. But what the heck, you’re welcome, Join us at the picnic. You can eat your fill Of all the food you bring yourself. You really ought to give Iowa a try. Provided you are contrary.”
That is literally the only context I had of the state prior to visiting. My flight got in first thing in the morning. I got to my host’s house and took a nap while I waited for my dad to drive in from Kentucky. Dad shows up, dressed just like me in his Kentucky blue. I didn’t even know my dad had already been to Des Moines before so the typical tourist stops (botanical garden, etc, etc) was a low priority for him. So, the first order of business was off to the state capitol. I did some pinteresting and the law library looked like a place of wonder. We had to get it in before it closed that day Friday since it closes down during the weekend. We were on our self-guided tour when we visited the Secretary of State’s office. First, an intern started talking about the room but then the ever charming SoS, Paul Pate, greeted us and took over giving the history of the ceremonial office and the tour of the archives. We talked Kentucky basketball and barbeque before headed out of his office to see the Senate.
I like this picture because we look the same size. Dad is standing two steps below.
Dad and I were surprised at how everyone welcomed us in to their offices and what appeared to be minimal security. As Secretary Pate explained, It’s the people’s capitol so they can’t make it so secure it is hard to access. I enjoyed learning the history of the building, it’s fire, it’s upgrades through moderation. Although I know plenty exist throughout the country, this was the first state building I’d ever been to without a confederate monument. In fact, they had a statue of fellow Kentuckian, Abraham Lincoln and his son, Tad who died as a pre-schooler.
The law Library was the grand final of the State Capitol visit. I don’t know why I didn’t take to the choreography that is still ingrained in my memory from my high school musical. I’m already a bibliophile and library connoisseur, but being in the gorgeous space took me back to twirling about on stage in the pink gingham dress my grandma made for me to a classmate singing, “I love you madly, madly Madam Librarian, Marina!”
I love you madly, madly Madam Librarian!
Just know, the entire sound track of the Music Man was on continuous reply in my mind as I explored the city. In fact, seeing the Wells Fargo Arena made me want to bust out into cheesy, elbows swinging, choreography “It could be curtains or dishes or a double boiler or it could be…”And the chores responds “Yes your right it really could be..something special! just for me!”
Riverside
It’s not so easy to convince your friends to go to Iowa. “It’s fly over territory” one said. But my proposing the idea to my dad, who retired just two weeks earlier wasn’t a hard sell. Especially knowing he’s a trekie and Riverside, Iowa is the future birthplace of Captain James Kirk.
We got on the road and headed to Riverside to see the future birthplace of Captain Kirk. I went from riverside, California which is on all sorts of America’s best places to live lists, to Riverside, Iowa…which has a population of 1000 and no stop lights. I’m pretty sure they started boasting their tie to Star Trek in order to get some business because I just don’t see any other reason anyone would be drawn to the town.
As soon as you get to riverside, you are welcomed with a Star Trek theme. The city welcome sign has a space craft designed on it. as you enter the town there’s a replica of the Voyager and a museum. Pictures of star Trek crew members are displayed on street signs.
Finding this site was a challenge. I put the address in on my GPS. It took us right to a hair salon. We turned around and stopped at a gas station to ask directions. Not a soul in the gas station knew what we were talking about and pointed us to a monument of non-fictional U.S. Military warriors across the street instead of the Captain James Kirk sign. If this is your town’s theme and tourist draw, I’m going to need the gas station attendants to know where, on this one street town, the “monument” is located. What we learned from google is the “monument’ was actually behind the hair salon.
Dad came prepared with his space uniform.
And that was it. We turned around and made the two-hour journey back to Des Moines. Des Moines boasts a great mix of diversity and a great place for politics. Because of the Iowa caucus, there’s no telling who you’ll run in to because everyone goes through Iowa. And it was nice to be in a place where it actually felt and looked like football season instead of sweltering in SoCal. We just so happened to be there the weekend Everyone was geared up for the Cy-Hawk state rivalry. We left the state and made our way to Nebraska.
Bridges Of Madison County
The interstate goes from one end of Iowa to the other. Driving it, on the way to Omaha, we passed by signs pointing to the John Wayne Museum. I’d seen this Museum on Pintrest but didn’t know where the town was in relation to Des Moines. In fact, all I knew was a list of Iowa towns from the musical, but not where they were on the map. So, dad and I decided a detour was in order. Dad likes to get up extra early so we got to the museum way before it opened and we just had too much to accomplish to wait around for it to open. We did explore what we could of the Duke’s hometown.
On the way out of town we took the trail pointing to a covered bridge. At the bridge we met two traveling friends from Dubuque (like in the song). They jabbered about as if we were long-time friends. They were enamored with all the sights they’d seen and passed along their tourist maps. It was only then that we became aware that we were Madison County of movie fame. There was a trail of covered bridges to see, plus a stone tower, and one room school house. So, why not!
I‘m not going to lie. I came to Montana with visions of cowboy grandeur. I imagined being the star of my own country song. I’m talking about a good 1990s-style country song, not these of today where, for some reason, women always tend to be barefoot. When did this become a thing guys are in to? Back in my day it was snake skin boots made by Calvin Klain, now it’s naked feet. Anyway, I envisioned all the dreamy imagery evoked from songs like the Dixie Chicks’ “Wide Open Spaces” and “Cowboy Take Me Away.” I’d be standing in a blue sundress and boots spinning around in a field of golden grain as a camera pans around from above in slow motion. I’d frolic around a mountain covered in flowers a la the opening scenes of Little House on the Prairie. I imagined splashing in a creek with friends. “Fishing in the Dark” by the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band, Should’ve Been a Cowboy, Garth Brook’s Rodeo, Sarah Evans’ Born to Fly and really, who wouldn’t want to be the girl in a chevy truck when it happens to get tuck on a back road with her sweetie after hearing Taylor Swift reminisce about it? All of these songs absolutely romanticized my vision of The West and I wanted to capture it all in picture. I mean, how could I even think Montana could even live up to my high expectations?
I’ve said it over and over, there’s no shortage of things to do on a ranch. Most of these activities…like worming sheep, don’t quite lend themselves to mimicking images from a country video. And while a lot of those things to do are labor-intensive — wake up early to make sure all the animals have breakfast…300 sheep, tons of cattle, horses, chickens, the pin of injured or sick animals, the dogs and puppies, and the adorable orphaned calves — there’s still fun to be had.
I asked a French Engineering student spending a summer abroad on the ranch why she chose Montana of all places in America to choose. She responded that Montana is the horse capitol. Being a Kentucky girl, I almost lost my wit hearing this. And so I responded like any Kentuckian would respond. Which she accurately replied, “If I wanted to ride English, I could have stayed in France.” And that’s true. While I know there’s plenty of western horseback riding going on in Kentucky, I’ve only been around English so, from my perspective, Kentucky is more English-riding centered. The raising of horses is different, mostly because of the terrain and weather. There’s a relationship between Montana and Kentucky in the horse industry. I learned that the majority of Kentucky derby winners are bred out of Montana. Anyway, for this Kentucky girl, it was just a dream to spend a week riding. You gotta recognize the privilege when work is disguised as fun.
The People and Animals
Videos of puppies and little kids can easily waste a way a day. Same thing happens in real life when you’ve got an energetic, pre-schooler and a litter of puppies on the ranch. This little cutie, never the shy one, came right up to me and introduced himself and the adults around him (that I’d already met) and led me by the hand to his pack of puppies. I couldn’t think of a better way to spend a few hours of an afternoon than with little fella and his buddies. Spending time talking with the many, interesting people the ranch attracts is plenty fun enough.
He asked me to take a photo and replied, “That turned out nice didn’t it?” Such a doll.
Rodeos
Before going to Montana I had a girl talk over calzones with one of my favorite Texans, about my excitement about the western lifestyle and living on an Ranch. She was already an expert and broke down cowboy culture. Now, when I think of equestrian events, my first frame of reference is the Kentucky derby, which is the social highlight of spring. It is the culmination of weeks of shopping for the perfect sundress and finding accenting but comfortable heels, and hours of searching for the perfect head topper. Fashion isn’t the focus for most at Rodeos. In fact, there’s a special name for girls who are focused on the fashion. Buckle Bunny. These are the girls that are a little bit too gussied up to be going just to watch a guy get knocked around on a bull or bronco. So those fully ingrained in this culture travel to the big shows and they follow the rodeo, town to town and get to know the riders at after parties. I never considered there were rodeo groupies. I guess if there are cyber groupies, then there can certainly be groupies for the cowboys too. Rodeos make for great people watching once you know the characters. And here’s where Garth’s Rodeo and Toby’s Should’ve Been a Cowboy came to life.
As luck would have it, Arabella and I made friends with two local charmers who volunteered (or got volun-told…I’m not sure which is more accurate) to take us to the rodeo in Cody, Wyoming. No one who really knows Rodeos gets over-excited about the Cody, Wyoming Rodeo. As one of my local hosts explained, “Nothing that happens every night is special.” Cody is for the tourist. Not the cowboys. Rodeos tend to only be worth a pro’s time if they payout handsomely for a win. However, Cody is a great starter rodeo for first time riders and first time viewers.
In rodeo, you’ve got several events. There’s tie-down roping, team roping, steer wrestling, saddle bronc riding, bareback bronc riding, bull riding and barrel racing. Barrel Racing and maybe team roping are the only events I could envision me actually doing. In addition to the timed events, there’s plenty of other forms of entertainment. The MCs at Cody were comedians. Made me shake my head with how pitiful their jokes were…they sounded like two dad’s who think they are so funny but the boys were were with were cracking up. I just rolled my eyes and shook my head. There was a guy dressed like a cow dancing that got me to break my baring and the way the rodeo got the crowd involved was pretty entertaining.
After the rodeo we hit the town. Sheridan Ave in Cody reminds me of Broadway in Nashville, without the population. We started at the Silver Dollar Saloon in the Irma Hotel. The Irma is a historical hotel named after Buffalo Bill’s daughter. Just being in it you can imagine the cowboys and ladies in red velvet of the Old West. We moved on after a a drink (and after we witnessed a middle aged couple forget they were in public) to the Silver Dollar down the road and across the street. This place had a younger atmosphere and pool tables. We played (and trash talked) until the bar closed. It was a fun, comfortable, crowd-free time out on the town.
The next morning after loading up on giant pancakes at a cafe on Sheridan Ave we hit up the Cody Museum and got a history lesson on the Old West, Buffalo Bill, a seriously expansive arsenal of historic riffles, and regional Native American history. Then we went window shopping. All the cowboy gear has something like a 100 percent tourist mark up.
I loved these boots! On the left we have $15K boots (with a sign that says do not touch. Yea right, I’m touching) and on the right $2K. They belong to the wife of the boot maker. Collection plate/ Go-Fund Me link coming soon.
We returned to our Montana ranch taking the Chief Joseph Scenic Highway (Wyoming Highway 296). This winding highwayfollows the route taken by Chief Joseph as he led the Nez Perce Indian out of Yellowstone toward Canada during the 1877 U.S. Cavalry attack. He and his surviving warriors ended up being “deported” by William T. Sherman from his nation to Kansas where he died. This is stuff I never learned in school. The views on the route are breathtaking but the winding roads do have the tendency to create motion sickness in small cars. Careful! The route added about 45 minutes to our time and passed through a few ski resort towns (like Red Lodge) that would be idea for stopping for the night if needed.
Just charming views. We had to keep stopping so I could take pictures.
Fun on the Ranch
Sure, I didn’t have to travel all the way to Montana to play and climb on hay bales but, hey, it’s been a while. Whether it’s climbing on hay, sitting on straw in the barn having conversations about dreams, adventures, and life, or spotting the wild life while outdoors, playing in the country is fun. I think I had so much fun doing regular mundane, country things because it reminded me of home so much.
The Beartooth Scenic Byway is accessible from the south via the Chief Joseph Scenic Byway (State Hwy. 120). The Wyoming section is 47 miles in length and requires a minimum drive time of one hour. – See more at: https://www.wyomingtourism.org/things-to-do/detail/The-Beartooth-Highway-An-All-American-Road/7932#sthash.xuWpa3cT.dpuf
The Beartooth Scenic Byway is accessible from the south via the Chief Joseph Scenic Byway (State Hwy. 120). The Wyoming section is 47 miles in length and requires a minimum drive time of one hour. – See more at: https://www.wyomingtourism.org/things-to-do/detail/The-Beartooth-Highway-An-All-American-Road/7932#sthash.xuWpa3cT.dpuf
The Beartooth Scenic Byway is accessible from the south via the Chief Joseph Scenic Byway (State Hwy. 120). – See more at: https://www.wyomingtourism.org/things-to-do/detail/The-Beartooth-Highway-An-All-American-Road/7932#sthash.xuWpa3cT.dpuf
The Beartooth Scenic Byway is accessible from the south via the Chief Joseph Scenic Byway (State Hwy. 120). – See more at: https://www.wyomingtourism.org/things-to-do/detail/The-Beartooth-Highway-An-All-American-Road/7932#sthash.xuWpa3cT.dpuf
The Beartooth Scenic Byway is accessible from the south via the Chief Joseph Scenic Byway (State Hwy. 120). – See more at: https://www.wyomingtourism.org/things-to-do/detail/The-Beartooth-Highway-An-All-American-Road/7932#sthash.xuWpa3cT.dpuf
Hunting Montana is a hunter’s paradise. White tail deer just frolicked on front lawns like no big deal. I don’t think there was a single day of the week that I didn’t see an elk. I just kept thinking, my dad would love this place. I love the wild life here. You saw just about every American animal (except alligators) just wild and free. Now, it was not hunting season in August but it seems like the Game Warden takes their job pretty seriously up here. The game warden sets up decoy deer trying to catch poachers in a sting. I’ve been around hunters all my life in Kentucky and just have never heard of anyone ever encountering something like that.
Elk on the side of the Road. They make high pitched trumpet sounds not expected for a beast of this size.
Night Life
As one native said while she was trying to give me directions, the bars are the landmarks. Absarokee has a population of 1,200. That is not to say the night life is a bust. 5 Spot Bar was my first introduction to Absarokee nightlife and thus became my instant fave. When you are the new girl in a one stoplight town, everyone in the bar comes to introduce themselves to you and try to figure out why on Earth you chose to stop in their town. Kinda made me wonder what it would be like to go to a bar in my own hometown considering I’d never lived that since I’ve been 21.
Just across the street is a bar geared toward an older crowd called Chrome. Then at the edge of town is Legends with a dance floor and Karaoke and swings on the covered porch. It’s the place to go with a sweetheart and to hear stories about Jesus and Alcohol. Only deal is this bar is on the edge of town and there are no Taxis so a quality designated driver is a must.
Fun on the River
If a town is lucky enough to have river flowing through it, it’s residents are lucky to have built-in entertainment. We toyed with the idea of spending the weekend whitewater rafting or just casually rafting down the Stillwater River but considering my aversion to cold, we decided against. Instead, we went fly fishing. For something like $30 purchased at a gas station at the edge of town, I got my two-day fishing license.
Now, I’d done my share of fishing before. Just cast the line and wait. Heck, you can put a bell on the line, walk away and do something else and still catch a channel cat. There’s not much to it. In fly fishing, that i not the case. You have so many variables to negotiate. Now, for the first time, I could see how fishing is a sport. My line kept getting caught up. I got frustrated. After the sun and the temperature dropped I caught my one little mini fish, I quit.
That’s not to say I didn’t have a blast. I was laughing at Ty for falling in the water and loving the chivalry of being piggy backed across the river. Oh, and the other pair catching seven fish before I even got my gosh dang line in the water which at the time was not fun but looking back, was quite comical. Every other minute we’d hear, “Caught one” across the way.
I couldn’t capture all the fun I had with the local gentleman and my new international friend on camera to document for the blog. One, for fear I’d drop my camera in the river. And reason number two, and most important, the best times can’t be documented. I couldn’t stop the laughs and jokes and focus on fishing to go run, get a camera and focus on the posing for what I’d pretend were candid shots. I couldn’t focus on documenting the moment, I had to be present and just enjoy the moment that I’ll make into a memory.
It was as I looked at the silhouettes on the river in front of the pink setting sun that I realized it. I had been in the middle of my own country song all week. Pulling up to the ranch in my Ram meeting a boisterous fella roping sheep, road trips to rodeos, trash talking and joking while playing pool, playing on the river, and the conversations and laughs at small town bars are the stuff old school country songs are made of. Two charming, western gentlemen hosting two out-of-state girls chaperoned by two water lovin’ dogs enjoying the final days of summer together. Just right out of a country song.
I was really board and unimpressed with Montana. It was miles and miles of golden fields. And while beautiful, they got old after 30 miles. While driving north, I even sent a group text to my friends on day two of my visit saying I would not be coming back to visit Montana. Dixie Chicks’ “Wide Open Spaces” kept playing over and over in my head. This is where they were talking about. I was so bored! Montana was just a colder, bigger Kansas (not happenin).
I’d traveled through all timezones in the past two days and the jet lag caught up with me. I was exhausted before the sun came down. After my experience sleeping in my car at Antelope Canyon and Bryce National Park, I thought nothing about climbing into the back seat of my truck at Glacier National Park for the night.
Golden fields on both sides of a gravel highway for miles on end!
The next morning I journeyed from West glacier to east Glacier. However, the park was on fire in many places and the smoke destroyed the visibility. I’m sure here were mountains behind the think white fog but I couldn’t see much anything.
Make sure to bring your passport. For no particular reason, you might want to cross the boarder into Canada. Might as well, you’re already there if you’re at Glacier national park. I didn’t bring mine and those Canadians didn’t just let me waltz into their country. Boo. They did allow me to take this selfie and import the Mt Dew I bought at the little shop across the border.
Also, make sure to bring fall layers. Even in August, it’s colder than the heart of an assclown who breakups with a girl by changing the name in his facebook relationship status.
I drove from glacier hitting up all the major towns on the way. Did you know there are only three Best Buys in the entire state gigantic of Montana? I needed one for my camera battery charger. Had to go all the way to Billings to get it. Anyway, along the way I kept being delayed by free grazing live stock. First thing I thought was to ind the farmers and alert them that their cows were out like I’d do back home. But then, there were no houses in sight. That’s just how they do in Montana. Cows have freedom to roam. Make sure you are driving the speed limit. These cows come out of nowhere.
Finally getting to see the American Buffalo!
After a day of driving then stopping in Big Timber for then night (really friendly sweet folks at River City End), I made it to the ranch in Absarokee. Then the boredom just vanished. When you are on a ranch, you never have a shortage of things to do.
Not a Dude Ranch Agro-Tourism is being coming the newest trend in travel. I explained the concept to a friend who said he already knew all about it from an episode of, The Office. It’s basically activity-based tourism to experience agricultural life first hand. As some of the locals explained, I basically came on vacation to do the type of chores that they grew up dreading. I guess it did kind of have the Tom Sawyer feel to it… just like paying to white-wash a fence.
Now, when I made booked the trip with Montana Bunkhouses, Karen, the organizer, wanted to make sure I knew what I was getting into. She organizes hands-on ranching, experience vacations for a community of twenty Montana cattle ranching families. Karen basically served as my Montana travel agency telling me how much time to spend in the different national parks and which ranch will serve my goals.
She emphasized this wasn’t a Dude Ranch. Dude Ranches, as she explained, was the Disney land version of ranching. Although it is a great experience, it is all entertainment focused. A working ranch is authentic to real life on a ranch without the fanfare, glitz, and Hollywood, romanticized glamour of a Dude Ranch. On a working ranch, you are going to get dirty. After explaining some of the experiences I could expect, I had to assured her that I was a southern country girl and totally fine getting dirty. Besides, I wanted to see the difference between Montana ranches and Kentucky farms.
I’ll be honest. I was a bit in shell shock when I first arrived on the ranch. The folks were already in the mists of worming sheep. Let me tell you a thing or two about worming sheep. First you have to catch them. Which takes team work and athleticism. You may think you caught one, then it keeps running off with you on his back. I don’t think there’s much of a special technique to do it. Just grab one by the wool. If you have cowboy skills, you may be able to rope one. While forcing medicine in his mouth, it is also a good time to trim the poop off his bottom. You see, balls of poop collect in their wool which will eventually attract maggots to their tails. So two must wrangle and hold while the third brave soul clips the poop balls off. That way, you can tell who has been medicated by who has a clean bottom. Doing this for 300 sheep takes the better part of a day. There is no way to do this without getting dirty. Sheep sh!t is also a challenge to get out of jeans. Don’t wear your best.
If you have ever seen the cute film “Babe” from back in the day, I now can attest that sheep are definitely stupid, just as they said in the movie. They just run about in packs tripping over stuff making a bunch of noise, getting their heads stuck in fences. I’m not all that impressed with them. They are kinda boring creatures.
The chores on the ranch change by the season. In the spring, the calves and lambs are born. They need help during delivery, vaccines, and weening. In the summer it’s important to maintain the health of the animals. Bringing the cattle home is a highlight of the fall happens globally except in Montana, it’s without all the fests as in the Alps. Then there’s fence fixing and overall maintenance and management. Of course, daily the all the animals on the farm need to be fed.first thing in the morning and then as the sun goes down. Chickens, horses, cows, sheep, and goats can be quite the undertaking. My favorite chore was feeding the adorable orphaned calves. Then there was a this attention hog of a goat. He couldn’t stand for the calves to have more attention than him and he forced my hand to rub on him. He was such a sweetie, I obliged. He reminded me of my dog back home.
Now country girls and cow girls are not synonymous, however, with a little work a country girl can make a graceful transition into a cowgirl. Scarlett O’Hara was a country girl. Annie Oakley is a cowgirl. Being a cowgirl is a workout in itself.
Should’ve Been A Cowboy
On one occasion, we rode up into the mountains to look for lost cows. The cows had come down from the pastures in the mountains but not all of them came home. That’s when I realized I have never ridden a horse with a purpose before. Any other time it was purely entertainment…like on a boring trail or in an arena. Here, I was doing some real cowboy stuff. There is more to cowboying than the 1791 Supply Co. swagger. It’s a lot of physical, time consuming work. We had to ride because there was no other way to get up into the altitude. You couldn’t four-wheel it, couldn’t drive it, and definitely couldn’t walk it. We drove bout an hour to the trail head of a national forest. Tiny, the man of the ranch who wasn’t at all tiny, gave me a quick safety briefing. “If Lorena sees a bear, just turn her around real quick away from the bear.” Record scratch…and pause…ummm…a bear!? What is happening? What have I gotten myself into! I had not even considered there were bears in the region. Apparently, a horse has the tendency to panic, buck the rider off, and keep going at the sight of a bear. We took a small band of real cowboys, and aggro-tourists up into the mountains then separated into two smaller groups in different directions off the trails looking for the lost cows. At this point, the lyrics to Toby Keith’s “Should’ve Been a Cowboy” play over and over in my mind. My horse was awesome. She responded well to commands. My partner’s horse, on the other hand, had some anxiety attacks attacks going on. While it was a good horse for working with cows, it wasn’t the best for riding also steep rugged terrain. Well, the temperature dropped in the mountains and the rain began and honestly…cowboying stopped being fun. Rain or shine, the work of a cowboy must get done.
Ranch vs. Farms
Just as there are different jobs in the medical community, or in the defense community, there are different jobs in the agriculture community and the differences between ranchers and farmers end to get muddled. I arrived on the ranch thinking perhaps it was just a regional vocabulary difference, but no, the functions are entirely different. Ranchers raise cattle or sheep. Just two animals. Ranches tend to be out west where the soil is unsuitable for crop-growing. Farms have a variety of fruit and vegetable crops and pigs, poultry, dairy cattle. As a child, I climbed and used my imagination on farm machinery. Noticeably missing from the ranch was all the machines. There were no harvesters, balers, tractors tucked away in farm storage buildings. Ranchers use horses to do a lot of their work, or pack mules to carry loads into the mountains, or 4-wheelers. On a ranch you may have several Ranchers’ livestock may free-grazing with other ranchers’ which is why branding your livestock is more prevalent than on farms. Farms use tagging (and perhaps also branding). Farmers divide their operation up by fields or paddocks, ranchers by pastures. Fields tend to be smaller than pastures and geographically closer together. Like when we on the search for cattle that never came home, we were an hour away from the house. Ranchers wear cowboy hats while they work. Farmers wear baseball caps while working and may whip out a cowboy hat when they go dancing. So, when you’re at the dinner table blessing the hands that made your family’s meal possible, you are blessing the hands of a farmer for your grains, dairy, fruits and veggies, and a rancher for your lamb and beef!
This ranch is pretty dynamic in a business aspect. In addition to raising and selling livestock, providing ranch vacations, the farm also offers trail rides and fishing trips under the business name, Paintbrush Adventures. Of course, this is just part of a day’s work. Even getting dozens of horses settled and ready for rides is a bit of work but it’s always fun when work disguises it’s self as play.
The Montana Bunkhouse website states that visitors come as guests but leave as friends and that is certainly true. Even just for I week, The leaders said I was a part of their lives and I agree, I was treated like family. I made friends that I know I’ll always have a connection.
Using BuzzFeed’s 29 Surreal Places in America You Need to Visit Before You Die as my American travel bucket list, I started researching the spectacular sights in my area. One of the features, Zion National Park, was a short day trip drive away from my home.
So, with a weekend as my timeline, I packed up me and my roommate, Memphis, and headed up the road toward Utah. For those who have never met Memphis, he adores me. He’s kinda like a clingy boyfriend who wants to be loved on non-stop, all the time. ALL THE TIME. NON-STOP. I reserved a room at the pet-friendly La Qinta Inn Resort about three miles from the park entrance. After the long drive, I just wanted to sit in bed and watch TV until I knocked out from exhaustion. He wanted his belly rubbed all night! Then he got all this energy and decided to jump from bed to bed like a little kid in a hotel. After some compromising on both our parts, sleep found us. The next morning, in little kid fashion, I woke up to Memphis walking in my back ready to go before 7 am on a Saturday. After convincing him to hit the snooze button, I headed out of the lodge for the complimentary breakfast provided by the hotel, and had my breath taken away as soon as I stepped outside my door.
First thing I saw when I stepped outside my hotel room.
In my travel journal, I wrote:
You know when you leave your concrete jungle and drive all night in the dark, just you and the GPSs, and you can’t really see all that’s changed right in front of you….that same experience after driving in southern Germany in pitch blackness all night and go straight to bed once you get to your hotel….then you wake up, go outside in the sunrise and you find yourself surrounded by the astounding beauty of the Alps for the first time…I just got that feeling again this morning.
I just couldn’t believe how beautiful this place in America was. I couldn’t believe it’s been here all along and I was just now discovering it for myself. In the dark, I missed how the landscape changed around me. This was literary the same breathtaking beauty I’d experienced while road tripping with my mom and niece along the German-Swiss boarder in pitch darkness unaware of all the beauty that surrounded me until morning.
Memphis and I loaded up the car and drove three miles to sit in the longest line outside the gate. At 0900, I was already behind the early bird curve to get into the park. I flashed my park pass (which is a free annual pass if you are a Federal Government worker) and got informed by the gate staff that there is only one trail in the whole 229 square mile park that Memphis was allowed to travel. I was initially disgruntled that my only option with my companion was the Pa’rus Trail. Turns out, that was one heck of a trail. It’s about two miles in length following the river, and gorgeous views at every turn. I was surrounded by beauty all around. Again, I was overwhelmed with disbelief that this wonderland is still part of my country. I had a hard time grasping that this place, so drastically different from where I grew up is still part of the same nation.
Beautiful Trail for dogs
While on the trail, I met an upper middle-aged couple taking pictures with their big fancy cameras. Turns out they were from Connecticut.
“We’re not tourists,” the husband said. “We’ve lived here for seven years and we still come on weekends to take a picture. There’s just so much to see at different times of day and year,” he said. And I believed it. The walk out on the trail was vastly different from the walk back. I couldn’t stop taking pictures!
This weekend I realized this was the most amount of time I’ve ever spent, non-stop with my roommate. I got Memphis from the side of the road when he was a tiny two month old (the Vet’s estimation). He was abandoned with ribs showing. Then I went off to some summer training. My parents took care of him while I finished out college then for my first job out of college. Then When I went overseas. So I finally got him full-time when I moved to SoCal…seven years later. I got to see all his weird habits. Smell every smell he produced (never knew I had a gassy dog). I learned he is incredibly protective. He wasn’t really cool with men approaching me but would run up to women just sitting on park benches minding their own business and sit in their laps like he belonged there (they welcomed him). I learned he is just as adventurous and athletic as me. If I said, let’s go climb that mountain, he be down. If and when I said, let’s swim this river. He was game. Miles and miles we explored and was always ready to follow me down the rabbit hole. I told my mom, who kept Memphis for me for years as I traveled, that her baby got to be a dog this weekend. No lounging in the house being a pampered pouch, this little Kentucky dog was out exploring America.
I got a little saddle time in too. On the other side of the park (opposite the Springdale Gate) I discovered a charming ranch and had to stop to check it out. At Zion Mountain Ranch, three girls with my name (rarity) went horseback riding. While saddled up we talked about the things that tend to bring strangers together: travel, food, adventures, and guys. One girl was from the same SoCal area I live in now. She visited Zion a year ago, fell in love with the area, and moved there. She grew up on horses and got a job at the ranch, went to college nearby, and found a Utah cowboy to love. I asked her take on Utah men vice California ones, because for a southern girl, California guys were like nothing I’d come across before. Fellas who cut their own grass, and maintain their own cars, and do handy work around the house seemed to be rare in SoCal according to the native and me, the newbie. Traditional courtship is harder to find in SoCal than Utah apparently. This region of Utah is considered the high desert and snows mercilessly in the winter. As a Cali girl, her first winter was unbarable. So she, being of similar spirit as me, planned to spend next winter in Thailand with her beau. I love that idea…avoid the winter!
The ranch had a spring of new arrivals. Three mares came up mysteriously pregnant. One mare just dropped a foal without showing any signs of pregnancy. In fact, she’d been ridden pretty long earlier that day and no one was none the wiser until a baby just fell out of her like no big deal. Well eventually, the stealthy stallion was caught in the act. He got castrated. But he sired four new foals before being caught. Watching the new-borns keeping up with their mamas as they sprinted across the ranch was a sight to see.
It was on this ranch that I finally got to see Buffalo! I was disappointed I never saw them while driving across the plains on my Cross-Country Road trip. Zion Mountain Ranch is a buffalo preserve and hundreds of buffalo roam freely here. Kinda like big cows. Not as exciting as I’d hoped. But one of the girls got to have a cowboy-esqu adventure when buffalo left the preserve and it took three folks on horses to corral them back into their safe zone. Apparently, a sole rider on a horse can scare an adolescent buffalo back to the preserve. And older, adult male is not phased by a horse and might actually try to take one on. With the quaint cabins at the ranch, coupled by the beauty of the park and outdoor adventure opportunity, I couldn’t help but the think how absolutely romantic this area had the potential to be (Honeymoon spot!).
So many diverse people from all over the world come to visit the ranch mostly wanting the ultimate cowboy experience. I was regaled with funny, heart warming, amusing tales of some of the visitors to the park the guide had encountered.
If you get a chance, try this beer. FYI: In Utah, you are not allowed to have alcohol without food to go with it.
While the three of us rode our horses we discussed the Utah stereotypes. The first thing a lot of Americans think of when they consider Utah is Mormonism and possibly polygamy. On this trip I learned polygamy is not accepted by Latter Day Saints. Polygamist may call themselves Mormon, but Mormons don’t accept them as Mormon, Kinda like Baptists don’t claim Westboro Baptists. You can usually tell the polygamist by their uniform of formless pastel-colored dresses reaching down to the ground and Rapunzel-like tresses. They tend to live in more remote areas and not common all over Utah. A walk around the local Wal-Mart will be the most likely place for this cultural tourism (in fact, Wal-Mart seems to be the place for sub-culture tourism wherever you are).
Me at Bryce Canyon
Some 70 percent or so of Utah is preserved as a public state or national park. In addition to Zion, there’s Arches National Park, Bryce Canyon, Capitol Reef, Canyonlands, Moab, Red Fleet, Monument Valley and more. Each park vastly different from the other. I don’t get a lot of that back home in the south. A state park in Kentucky is almost indistinguishable from a state park in Alabama (with the exception of Mammoth Cave National Park). It’s a shame that the narrative of this state is centered around this counter-culture when the glory of Utah is its geo-diversity should be highlighted. Sure, the prevalence of Later Day Saint churches does stand out more than other states, but Utah is a big, beautiful, diverse state. Utah has so much more to offer than that one minute, unique aspect. And I guess that’s the same for people. A person can be as amazing as Utah but have one negative aspect or make one mistake and that’s the part people will emphasize the most.
This trip was mesmerizing. I got to share it with my favorite roommate and made new friends. This region instantly captured my heart and now is my American favorite. I cannot wait to visit Southern Utah again.
How could I see the Eiffel Tower, Great Wall of China, the bell tower of Big Ben, the Berlin Wall, Neuschwanstein Castle, hiked the Himalayas, skied the Alps, visit the Grand Mosque before I ever saw the Golden Gate Bridge, Chrysler Building, Apollo Theater, and Grand Canyon in my own country?! I talked to a German colleague who listed all the great sights of America he’d seen and I hadn’t seen a single one. Likewise, although he’d seen the wonders of the United States, he hadn’t seen wonders of his own homeland.So, in my quest to see all 50 states,I’m headed off to Wyoming and Montana! Yellowstone is just one of those places I’ve always wanted to go since childhood. And, because my most adventurous friends are either starting their school years, deploying, or otherwise, pre-obligated, I’m traveling the Great North West alone. Which is what prompted this post.
If something should happen to me as a result of Traveling While Black, please know…
That I am well aware that there is no guilt or shame in this world that God’s grace won’t cover. Christ was already crucified for anything I could have possibly done, so there’s no need to crucify myself. Plus, I have plenty of awesome friends and family that will talk me off a ledge and help me regain perspective. Know, that I am not part of that 1% or so of black women who would ever commit suicide.
I have too much to accomplish and only a few years of this life to do it in. There’s that Pulitzer Prize winning novel I’ve yet to pen. There’s a story waiting to be written that will capture the experiences of those who are often overlooked in literature that will be a NY Times best seller, just waiting for me to write. I have Caldecott Medals, Newberry Awards, and Coretta Scott King Awards to achieve.
I have too many travel adventures on the books that I’m looking forward to. I have nine more states to visit before I can blog about my favorite places in America! I’m knocking out two on this trip, and plan to see the rest before schools in California start at the end of September. I’m looking forward to my rendezvous with my fellow freedom-defending cousins in Spain for New Year’s to see that Monkey Jesus painting that one of my friends described as “a finger painted self-portrait of Curious George!”
This is hilarious!
I’m finally spring-breaking in Peru with my favorite travel pals! Then there’s Puerto Rico next summer. This is my super Spanish year! I am going to buckle down and finally read the Spanish version of Don Quixote that’s been sitting on my shelf next to my Spanish text book from college (darn UK Spanish department decided to change books and I couldn’t sell it back to the book store!). Plus there’s way too much of this world I haven’t seen and experienced. I need to see Taylor Swift in Singapore or South Africa. I need to honeymoon in the Maldives and spend bachelorette vacation in the Seychelles. My niece and I need to take pictures with the giant tortoises in the Galapagos Islands. I haven’t held a Koala in Australia yet. I need a Parisian address at some point. My great-grandma live to be 94. Her daughter is currently 90 so I do not think it’s too much of a stretch to think I should make it to 97. Even so, I’ve only got a limited time to be super active and hit up all seven continents. I’m not going to take myself out of the game before reaching my goal.
I look forward to all the amazing things I can do this school year. One year down as a professor and, after spending the summer with other professors at other universities I have new ideas on how to accomplish bigger goals. But first, I’m going to have to toughen up. I can’t lower standards so folks can reach it. I can’t feel sorry for students as much (i.e. aw, you slept through my final…I’ll give up my break so you can take it). I’m nixing the mass amounts of extra-credit I give. Last year, I made it rain EC points. Like 40 points worth and kiddos still didn’t get As! The students that already had the 117% in the class were the ones who took on the optional essay while the 79.5% students did nothing to reach the next letter grade. Students who don’t show up to my mid-term and final will get no sympathy from me anymore. I am not grading essays over my spring break because college students turn their work in late. I have to watch these scholars blossom and be there at their graduation…fighting back tears of pride.
I have a lot of personal, professional, and educational goals and prospects. I need to get published…scholarly work and fiction. I need to get more proficient at some languages. Maybe I need to get published in one of those languages! I need to be able to clear a 4 foot jump on a thoroughbred. I want to play T. Swift’s “Our song” on banjo. I’m still waiting to hear back from my dream university. I want to design, build and live in a mini mansion. I still have til October to get myself in bikini competition champion condition (probably shouldn’t have had that Oreo frappe this morning)!
Everyone who knows me knows I’m not about to tap out of this life without the opportunity to wear a legendary, alencon lace-trimmed, three-quarter length sleeve, scalloped, boat neck gown. I’ll stand in the same little Baptist church in Kentucky where my grandma, mom, and I all were baptized and where both my dad and granddad received God’s favor in finding my mom and grandma. I’m like little Amy in Little Women when she says, “I don’t want to die. I’ve never even been kissed. I’ve waited my whole to be kissed, and what if I miss it?” Well, I’ve waited my whole life to be the “good thing” that someone finds and I wouldn’t end my life and miss it.
While I’m still on the fence on if I’m going to just spoil everyone else’s kids around me or make the life-long commitment to being underappreciated and sleep deprived, I still have the vision of standing up on a packed alter with generations of family and friends passing an infant down the line of supporters to his daddy who’ll lift the baby to the Lord while the pastor dedicates the child. It’ll be just as Hannah did for Sam and the congregation’s hands will lifted all promising to help raise him up. If not for my own, then surely I’ll have the opportunity to play a part in this important role for a friend’s child.
And if I do decided to become a mama (‘cus as a woman in an industrialized, modern, kinda democratic country, I get to choose motherhood…and yes…getting laid and becoming a mother are two separate decisions…and yes, I went political there) I’m not half doing it. I’m going to attempt to field the starting lineup of the UK basketball team. I mean really, lots of women are mothers but a select few get courtside seats in Rupp. Even if I fall shy of that goal, if I can get my whole family together in church come Sunday morning I’d call it a win. I’m going to filling up a whole pew with mini gentlemen looking way too cute with fresh haircuts and dressed in little suspenders, vests, argyle, corduroy, and saddle shoes. When the pastor says “turn in your Bibles…” they’ll flip through the Baptist Hymnal and point to the words, pretending to read along because they are too little to know the difference. And they’ll sit between me, who’s got baby girl #1 in my lap, and their daddy whose got baby girl # 2 in one hand and my heart in the other (yep, extra cheesy, you’ll live). Both baby girls dressed in too much lace and too many ribbons and ruffles and with adorable white patent leather shoes. And I’ll wear a big ol’ church hat that blocks the view of everyone behind me (they too, will live).
The stuff I dream up tends to happen. I envisioned living in a flat in Europe and traveling every weekend and that vision was accomplished. I envisioned being a leader and that was accomplished. Like Elle in Legally Blond when she impulsively decides to go to Harvard law…stuff somehow has a way of happening when I commit to a decision.
I wouldn’t commit suicide and I’m not disrespectful.
I want to make it apparently obvious that I am not suicidal. Even so, there’s a trend of blaming the deceased for their murder. Don’t even consider that something I did lead to my demise. There’s a quote that’s gone viral that states, “telling black people to be respectful so they don’t get killed is like telling women what to wear so they don’t get raped.” It shouldn’t matter regardless, but please know, I am respectful anyway. I grew up with old school, southern, military, non nonsense parents. I got this general respect and respect for authority thing on lock. I’ve slipped up and called my fitness trainer “sir” once when he told me go lift something, it’s just what you do. I’m a responsible drinker and since I’m traveling alone, there will be no drinks on this trip). No drugs have ever entered this body. I don’t smoke. I don’t curse. My BFF, Megan, was once interviewed as a reference for me, and let me know she thought it was important to note that as a grown woman I still used words like, “hind-end, behind, and bottom” in place of using the word “butt” because I think it’s a bit too crass. Last school year, I accidentally deleted and entire document and my expletive of choice was a “Dog gone it!” through grit teeth. My boss, who is awesome but has been known to drop an f-bombs or two teased, “I heard you almost cuss in there.” I might roll and eye which is my body’s natural reflex to BS. It would take a lot of focus to control it and sometimes the eye roll slips. But if I’m cursing, I am under extreme duress.
I’m more cautious than usual while alone. I don’t go out on the town alone. I am planning to hit up a rodeo. Hopefully that will be a safe environment for solo women of color. Hopefully I won’t get called names or have stuff thrown on me. I’m not confrontational, my impulse would be to flee a dangerous situation rather than confront it. Grabbing an officer’s gun wouldn’t be my go-to move when in distress although I’d like to imagine myself doing a Charlie’s Angel/Kill Bill-style round house kick if one was pointed in my face but realistically that’s unlikely. If anything I’d probably in shock I’m not being treated like a lady. I follow reasonable instructions of officers but getting out of a vehicle for no reason is going to put me in serious distress because I’d fear getting raped.
If I end up in jail over some nonsense like Sandra Bland, I won’t fret paying bail. I can’t imagine I wouldn’t be able to handle it by a credit card swipe or a phone call to mom & pops. Even so, I’d go Friendship 9 with it and let tax payers of the nation keep on paying my salary while I’m hanging out in jail saving money by having the tax payers of the town cover my meals and lodging. Racism and pride are expensive, but I shouldn’t be the one footing the bill for someone else’s issues.
I think that should cover the usual gamete of ways murder victims of color are usually blamed for their death. Unless I get surprised with a new, creative murder justification.
Oh, the self-defense clause? I’m the same size I’ve been since I was 12 years old. I am the size of a 12-year-old girl. When Target has cute or cheaper stuff in the little girl’s section, I’m on it. Girls size 12/14. I’m 5 foot 4.25 inches tall 120 pounds (prob closer to 125 but those extra pounds don’t matter). I’m known to smile way too much…even in formations. If someone is threatened or intimidated by me something is wrong with them. I’m not coordinated enough to dribble and run at the same time, I’m probably not coordinated enough to cause you much harm. No one at airports, parking lots, restaurants, sidewalks, malls, etc seem intimidated because they always seem to find me and have weird, awkward, or inappropriate convos with me and to tell me too much about their personal life. And “thug music”? No. The only music I’m taking with me is all 5 Deluxe editions of T.Swizzle (on CDs). I might sing to her a little loudly but If asked politely, I’m likely to accommodate requests to turn her down. Then again she did make that song, “Thug Story” so she might count as thug music. I can’t stop watching Luke Bryan sing with Jason Durelo. I wear that video out! Too cute! But Jason is a man of color so listening to his music might fall under listening to thug music and be used to justify my death. Other than that, I’ll be listening to whatever comes on Montana radio which I’ll guess isn’t too diverse. Hope they play Drake, who is the half white, Canadian boy version of Taylor (Running through the six with my woes is the equivalent of a Twentytwo, that “you suck right now” song is a “We are never ever ever getting back together.” I’ll talk about that later…provided I survive).
Use these pics as evidence. This is not a girl you needed self-defense from? A friend recently described me as a “sexy goof.” Not threatening.
If I do die before my parents, I want an epic homecoming. Make it southern, make it military, and make is quintessentially OUR FAMILY. Dave, I appoint you to ensure my mama does not give me a tacky funeral. Just because I’m dead, doesn’t mean I’m classless.
No tacky traditional funeral flowers. Think pink peonies. Two big arrangements of them flanking a white casket (or you can turn my body into a diamond…that’s a thing nowadays). For the love of Jesus, proof read the heck out of the program. If my mom is too distraught to utilize that English degree of give it to my boss, nothing gets past him.
Have a cappella Gospel Choir feeling the spirit with a lively “I’ll Fly Away” and “Soon and Very Soon.”
Sing, “His Eye is on the Sparrow” in the style of Mahalia. Have my sister sing, “Going up Yonder” and know I’ll be in Heaven shouting hallelujah just a little bit too loudly.
It would be awesome to have all three leaders: Reverend Bishop from First Baptist Elizabethtown, Reverend Aiken from First Baptist Bracktown, and Pastor Huntley from True Divine Baptist in Montgomery (he’ll be entertaining). Yes, open up the doors for salvation and if the spirit dictates, allow the opportunity for baptism, right there at a funeral. You never know when the next time someone will enter the church or if they’ll make it to next Sunday. Yes, this will be a long church session.
And yes, I want my non-Christian friends to be right there on the pews too. And I want them to feel welcome and at home. No awkward, hateful, mean, rude condemnation in the preaching. I do not approve. But if they still don’t feel comfortable even being there, be sure they know where to meet for the after party. Make it like a tailgate, barbeque style. With amazing food. Dad will handle the brisket, Karla will take care of the Mac and Cheese (this is a joke…have a backup ready). Shawn will handle the beans. Maybe a fish fry too. And let there be bourbon (and responsibility). Use my wedding fund to make sure I have a fantastic funeral (I was going to use the word “killer” in place of good here…but…probably not the best choice).
I want to be wearing that black & white A-symmetrical dress that I wore to Cathy’s wedding at my wake. But do not bury that dress, it’s much too pretty for it. Instead, give it to my baby sister cus she’ll probably be just as cute in it as me. Probably just give her all my clothes since she’s forever wanting to wear them anyway.
All the Single Ladies! Pair this dress with yellow wedges and purse. All three are in my closet.
Bury me in my cadet blues uniform (Not my good Captain one). It’s still in the back of my closet. Give my good uniform to my grandma to keep with the uniforms of all the other military members of my family. She could have a museum with all the different uniforms. If a wardrobe change is too much trouble just put me in whatever Kentucky Blue sundress no one wants. Lord knows I have way too many anyway. Or buy this one specifically for my funeral. Dad always said don’t go out and buy another suit for him if he dies, just use one that he already has…I don’t have that rule. Everyone should dress like they are going to a UK football game. Forget depressing black (unless you have a smokin’ LBD you want to get some use out of…but you’ll be in church and probably shouldn’t). Wear sundresses or seersucker and sports coats. Dress like you’re going to Derby. Don’t mourn. Celebrate my spiritual ascent.
Lastly, the only way I’d want to be buried in my hometown is if I got to stay in the veterans section of the cemetery with my mom and dad having reserved spots nearby. If not, send me to E-town, next to my great-grandma. Or just turn me into a diamond. Fire the volleys and carry on. I think that should cover it.
Last bits of odds and ins
Such a sweetie! Love my roomie
Someone will need to get my dog, Memphis, back to Kentucky. There’s money in the bank to pay for that. Use the rest of the cash in the bank to send some high school students from Daviess County, Hardin County and Montgomery off to Paris and/or Stuttgart for the summer. Mom, hand select ones that remind you of me. Make ’em write an essay, profess their love of history, culture, and travel; let them be in band, run, dance, take part in theater and prove their countless hours of community service. Pay for their study abroad tuition. I vote out of state HBCU (or of course, Kentucky) for Baby Belle and Baby Beau to go to school. Dan, sanitize my electronics for parent consumption before handing them over to my mom. Dad, I have an unused United Ticket. It’s yours, you’ll have to call. If media is involved, make sure they use the profile pic of me in my UK tee —That’s a crowd favorite. Or the pic of me, my mom, and Elizabeth in our uniforms at Liz’s Academy Commissioning. Or of my mama crying at my promotion. Don’t use my official AF photo. It’s out of date and my hair was curled too tight that day.
*Please consider the state of our union when I feel more compelled to write funeral arrangement plans before I go to Montana and Wyoming than I did before deploying.
If anyone wants to express outrage, for the love of God, do not ask, “What would Martin Luther King do?” MLK, Jr. is dead because he tried to be a Switzerland in America and that does not work. Instead, ask what great American Warriors, General William T. Sherman, General James Mattis, and the honorable Malcolm X do. Kumbaya is not the American way. It’s not even English and ‘Muricans hate it when folks don’t speak English. I’m one of the many Americans get all hoo-rah’ed up over Toby Keith’s analysis of the American way. Putting some boots in some arses gets stuff done.
Some think I’m over reacting. I sure hope so. But Tamir Rice’s life was taken in 2 seconds for being a child. Taylor Swift pens songs about being in love at 15, but fifteen-year-old Andre Green was killed last weekend along with 12 others…just in one weekend. I recall, Matthew Shepard was killed in Wyoming because of the hate in someone’s heart. I identified so much with Sandy Bland, when I read about her I though, dang, she sounds like me. Then my sister texted saying the same woman reminded her of me. And maybe that’s what it will take, is for the majority of America to see themselves in the victims. I mean, I get how it’s hard for most Americans to see themselves in a black, teen from the hood of some town no one has ever heard of. I get it. That teen is in the “out group.” He’s an “other” for many. But for me, in him I see my future son, my future husband, my dad, my friends, and my family members. When the media kept emphasizing a black teen’s 6’4″ height (and omitted that the police who killed him was just as tall) I couldn’t help but to think of my dad who is also 6’4″. I thought of my curly-haired dimple toddler nephew whose daddy and granddaddy are both 6’4″ and he probably will be as well. And simply because of his height and skin color, someone will forget that he was once our family’s pre-mature baby boy and be afraid of him.Hopefully, with as vivid a life as I’ve lived, if something should happen to me, there will be something about me that others can identify with and think, dang, that sounds like me and we ought to put a stop to shoot now, ask questions later of Americans. There is an art and strategy to protest. But the best protest would be one that would impact enough centers of gravity that would incapacitate the will and capability to take a life. Some have suggested that if I fear attack, just don’t go. But if I don’t go a get to experience the beauty of my own country, the hateful people of the world win by keeping me from experiencing all that life has to offer.
*typed on an iPhone don’t be too critical of editing.
**Since identifying oneself anyway you see fit is the thing to do now, I self-identify as the fiancé of Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson. If something should happen to me, please refer to me as such.
Oh Dwayne, What’s that you say? You want to smell my cooking, first thing in the morning, for the rest of your life? Not a problem.
