Hey! It's been ages, I've been computer-less during the days.
I started an internship last week and I'm loving it. If you haven't heard of it, you should check it out: StoryCorps. I'm doing outreach and participating in countless policy meetings. The outreach part is interesting and broad. The policy part is also interesting, but strange. For 15 years, I have had no need sit around a table and critically think, having nitty-gritty "define capacity" discussions. I'm sure part of this is the non-profit world. The closest thing to critical thinking I've had to do in recent years is more along the lines of 'chicken or beef'. Well, that's not really true, but it's certainly not been like this.
Anyway, I encourage/plead with each of you to participate in an interview sometime this summer. I think you'll find it's a lot of fun and really interesting.
In the spirit of telling tales, I thought I'd share the story that my grandmother told of my mother's birth. My mom was born in eastern Kentucky, coal country, in the 1940's. My grandparents lived on the family property of my grandma's family and there was a man named John who lived in a shack on the back of the land. The men used to all spend their free time out in John's shack, playing cards, playing guitars and drinking the whiskey that they all made or bought. The only real exception to the men was my grandma's cousin Roxy. Roxy was a drinker, a smoker, a cusser and a midwife. In December when my grandma was going into labor she sent her youngest brother, Uncle Doc out to the shack to get Grandpa. Grandpa got on his horse and rode out to get Roxy. Apparently the agreement was a bottle of whiskey for delivering the baby. When Roxy got there she wanted the whiskey right away, but Grandma had smartly put the whiskey under the pillows she was laying on. Grandma says she told Roxy "You give me the baby and you'll get the whiskey". So Roxy did and Grandma did and Roxy spent the next few hours out in the shack until the whiskey was gone. God bless those hillbillies. I love my family.
How can you be exhausted? You haven't worked a day in your life.
1 comment:
"God bless those hillbillies" should replace "E pluribus unum" as the motto of the United States.
That's an outstanding story. Tales like that (and the stories of my grandparents) make me almost stagger under the weight of technological and societal change our cultures have undergone in just a few generations. Congrats on landing a cool job.
Oh, and as a non-profit policy dude, let me say that policy friggin' rocks. I bet Apes (retired) agrees.
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