Saturday, March 09, 2013

We are still alive...

We have decided to rename our blog. It will now be called Tuck(er) Everlasting Y'all Guys. We think it is fitting and reflects our time in Mississippi (The Deep South), Virginia (The Not-So-South South), and our roots out West in Utah and California. I guess to technically be correct, we should probably change the name to Tuck(er) Everlasting Y'all Guys and Dudes, but that's a little over the top.  Sorry California. You lose.

To be honest, we actually stole the phrase "y'all guys" from our good friend, Pam, in Mississippi.  She grew up in Arizona, and her husband grew up in Mississippi.  Apparently their children became confused about what to call a group of people since they heard both "guys" from their mom and "y'all" from their dad. At some point along the way, Pam noticed that the kids started saying "y'all guys," and it has stuck.  We also find it quite useful. 


Here's a recentish photo of us (taken in Utah in December) in case any of our "fans" wonder where we have been the last three years.  It's probably obvious from the picture that we've become three years older and three years wiser too. Also, truth be told, I've become three years lazier. Facebook has become my main means of sharing pictures and updates; however, this morning I was reviewing old blog posts and have become a bit nostalgic. It's so much fun to read our commentary and reminisce about the good ol' days.

Jeff graduated with his Ph.D. in 2011 and was offered a job at an HBCU (Historically Black College and University) teaching English and creative writing, so we've been living in coastal Virginia for the past eighteen months. While admittedly Virginia is not quite as new and exciting as Mississippi was gun-wise and/or culture-wise, The Commonwealth is new and exciting in its own way.  We love the beauty, history, and nature we see around us every day, but there have also been some Twilight Zone-ish and "Can you believe what just happened?" moments as well. Here the prevailing culture is the military culture. Most everyone we know is or has been in the military, so we've had to learn to understand the in's and out's of the military way of life.   

That's enough for now.  Just wanted to do a quick check-in with y'all guys.

Sunday, December 19, 2010

California. Utah. A Tommy Gun.

Dear all,

Well, we just got back from our epic trip to California and Utah to visit our families. It was a splendid trip; we began in California, where we threw a surprise birthday party for my mother, who was turning forty-six. After that, we flew to Utah, where we visited with Melanie's family; her parents are going to be in Israel during Christmas, so we were able to celebrate an early Nativity.

Here are some pictures. We visited the Redlands Temple while we were in California...

...and had the whole place to ourselves, since it was a Monday...

..then we flew to Utah. I convinced my mother-in-law to go to a shooting range with me and Melanie (and Melanie's brother, Ryan).


My wife is lethal:

This shooting range was special, as they had fully-automatic firearms available for rent. I couldn't let the Tommy Gun collect dust...

...that's a zombie target I'm shooting at, in case you were wondering. We also got to play with our nieces and our nephew, Stockton, who is enjoying some binoculars here:

He's a happy kid, and a slobbery one...

...although he often gets a really serious look on his face when a camera is around...

...but we coaxed some smiles out of him.

We also went to our Libby's school program, where she sang...

...and it was really, really cold--they canceled recess because, with the wind chill, it was 3.6 degrees outside. Yikes.

Here are Libby and Kally saluting our greatness (Melanie came up with that one):

Actually, I guess they were just playing around, as I am here: with Kally...

...and Libby...

...and Kally and Abby, who jumped me...

...and then there's Bella, who likes a mahogany cayman carving that MIL brought back from Peru...

Stockton liked the ball that we got him...

...and Kally liked her coloring book, featuring princesses and big crayons...

...she seemed grateful...

...while Lindsey and Joseph, up from California, watched...

...and Abby modeled her missing teeth...

...and the siblings all posed. They stayed up 'til all hours.

All in all, a very nice trip. Thanks to everyone who helped make it happen (and special)!

Monday, June 07, 2010

My! How time flies!

Hey.

It seems the only time that I have, uh, time to post to the blog is when regular semesters aren't in session. Thus, now that summer has begun, I have a little more time on my hands. (I'm still teaching and taking a class, but it's not insane.)

A while back, M. and I went down to Louisiana for a swamp tour. It was superb. Within five minutes of leaving the dock, we sighted "El Guapo," a fifteen-foot-long alligator. I tossed him a marshmallow.

Behold. Here's my lovely wife in the swamp:


Here's El Guapo swimming his way up to the boat (he and the tour guide are friends):


...and here I am, communing with the deadly wildlife:

Watch out for those teeth!


Have I mentioned I love Louisiana?

Thursday, January 21, 2010

Ugh.

This past Monday, it was Martin Luther King, Jr. Day, the last holiday that M. and I would share together before I had to return to school. It was a beautiful, sunny day; it was warm, unlike most of the break. Moreover, I awoke with a sense of determination, of purpose--I was actually going to run errands. I mean, that's some motivation.

And then I took a shower.

Getting in, I noticed that the water wasn't running with its usual level of pressure. Hmm, I thought. Then, as I was washing my face, the back of my head--eyes closed--I felt it getting stronger. As I opened my eyes, I noticed something about the water...

...it was BROWN. And, no, not because of me--it was coming out brown. "M.!" I yelled. "Does this water, uh, look RIGHT to you?" She had to admit that, no, it didn't. It also brought back all sorts of memories from her mission, when, in one area, the water was always brown. (She felt dirtier after a shower than before.)

I filled up the tub just to make sure:



Yup. Definitely brown.

I felt slightly filmy. I wanted to take, well, a shower, but that was out of the question. I called the apartment management. (No help.) I called the city. (No help.) I talked to the maintenance guys. (BIG no help. One guy just started rambling about the necessity of matches.)

The maintenance guys (when I could understand them) suggested opening up all of the water lines in the house to try and flush out the dirt. However, there was so much dirt in the system that, every time I tried it, I just got more dirt. A neighbor confirmed the same thing was happening to him.

So M. and I sat. And sat. And sat. I never did make it to Wal-Mart.

The next day, I was able to shower at a friend's house, because the water was still bad. Yesterday, the water cleared up enough that we were willing to chance it. Today, I think it'll be okay, but I'm still not drinking it.

Man. I mean, I don't want to sound like this was the end of the world--goodness knows that the situation in Haiti is about ninety-billion times worse than this--but it really taught us how much water we'd need in an emergency. (The answer: A LOT MORE.) Sure, we could have stretched the water that we had a little more than we did, but we'd still need more. Lesson learned.

Saturday, January 02, 2010

Vicksburg; Or, How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Mississippi River

Dear all,

On New Year's Eve, M. and I went to Vicksburg, Mississippi for a brief retreat. Vicksburg is famous as the site of one of the Civil War's largest military campaigns, the Siege of Vicksburg, when Union forces surrounded the hilltop merchant town of Vicksburg. The resulting 47-day siege was, to put it lightly, messy. (For example, with its supply lines cut off, the city's dogs, cats, and mules were suddenly elevated to the realm of haute cuisine.) The Confederate forces finally surrendered on July 4, 1863, hoping that the holiday would serve as a symbol of goodwill, a reminder of something that both Union and Confederate forces held dear. (Turns out, it didn't do much.) Because of the surrender, Vicksburg didn't celebrate the Fourth of July for one hundred years.

Lesson learned: Never underestimate the ability of people to carry a grudge.

Anyway, it was a nice trip. Here are the pictures:



The Vicksburg battlefield is now a part of the National Park Service, and they've done a great job preserving everything (while still making it accessible). There is an eighteen-mile road that runs around the park, and monuments and battle sites line each side.



You can visit the actual artillery positions used during the siege. The markers along the road are either blue (for the Union) or red (for the Confederacy). This was a Union position.



Each state that participated in the campaign has a large monument dedicated to it, in addition to the many smaller monuments along the main road. I can't remember to which state this monument corresponds, but it was actually one of the smaller monuments, if you can believe that. (It might not have been a state's monument at all, now that I'm thinking about it...)



There are also a whole bunch of cannons. Everywhere.



This is a tunnel that the Union forces built to get closer to the Confederate positions. They also dug tunnels underneath the walls of the city, and stuffed the tunnels with gunpowder, which they detonated. Even though the tactic gave them temporary access to the city, they were ultimately repelled.



One state monument that was particularly impressive was Illinois'. (Abraham Lincoln and Ulysses S. Grant were both from Illinois.)



I felt like we were going to consult the oracle at Delphi.



Inside, all the names of the servicemen from Illinois are listed. The floor features extensive mosaic work...



...focusing on Illinois' state seal in the middle of the room. Above...



...the monument is open to the sky. Everything inside was dripping.



Next to Illinois' monument stands "Shirley House," a house that had the misfortune of being built on what would later become a battlefield. (If you think defaulting mortgages can lower the value of a neighborhood's real estate, try cannonballs.) Both armies used it as a reference point during assaults. It's a miracle the place survived at all.



These are the remains of the U.S.S. Cairo, a Union ironclad that was sunk in the Mississippi River during the campaign. The salvage effort in the 1960s was a Sisyphusian process, but it's really something to behold now. (I'm squinting, by the way, not saluting.)



The road wound its way through a national cemetery, and many Union soldiers (in addition to U.S. servicemen killed during later conflicts) are buried there.



After touring the battlefield, we explored Vicksburg. Here I am on the banks of the mighty Mississip'. That's a gambling ship in the background, since Vicksburg appears to still obey the law that gambling is only allowed on water. (Down on the Gulf Coast, I think Hurricane Katrina relaxed things a little.)



On the grounds of the town's old city hall, M. saw an ancient magnolia tree, and she thought its roots were pretty nifty looking.



Cruising around town, we found a pawn shop with cement gorilla statues outside. It wasn't the best neighborhood, so we kept the car running, jumped out, took the picture, and jumped back in.



I'd never stayed in a bed-and-breakfast before, and I knew that M. liked B&Bs, so we stayed the night in Baer House, a 140-year-old mansion restored and run by a couple from Slidell, Louisiana. They lost everything in Hurricane Katrina, and they determined that life was too short to be working at something they didn't love. (He was an airline executive at the time.) Thus, they opened the B&B. Here we are by the inn's enormous Christmas tree.



The house was really something, full of the so-called "Old World" craftsmanship you'd expect in an old mansion (quartersawn oak flooring, etc.). This rug made us think of Brent and Nancy's house.



Each of the rooms had a name, with names drawn from Gone With the Wind. We stayed in the Pineapple Room, but, having never seen Gone With the Wind, I'm afraid that means nothing to me. Here's the upstairs hallway.



These are on sale down at IKEA, in case you're interested.



Having visited a cemetery with a predominantly Union-based orientation the day before, on New Year's Day, we visited a Confederate cemetery. The cemetery featured a section for each state, in addition to a section for Confederate generals.



The infamous "Stars 'n' Bars" that we usually call a "Confederate" flag was actually the Confederacy's battle flag; the national flag can be seen (with some difficulty) slightly in front of my chest--it looks vaguely like a normal U.S. flag, but with only three stripes.



Here lie the graves of unknown Confederate soldiers.

All in all, it was a very enjoyable trip, if sobering at times. Around 17,000 soldiers were killed during the Siege of Vicksburg. And while it is easy to look down at the Confederate-era Southern states for their secession and their endorsement of slavery, visiting sites like this illustrates the difficult--and often contradictory--choices faced by those who lived during the Civil War (or, as many of the monuments call it, The War Between the States). For example, the South's endorsement of the slave system was, surely, reprehensible, but the North, while technically anti-slavery, certainly wasn't lacking when it came to racism. Emancipated slaves fought for the North, but black men also fought for the South. Yes, the North fought for a morally defensible position, but they did so via tactics of total war, directly targeting the civilian population of the South.

And then you have to consider economic issues, issues of states' rights, etc. It's enough to give you a headache, you know?

Plus, it is easy to look back on the Civil War with the benefit of hindsight, but visiting Vicksburg made me think--once again--how the Americans of the Civil War didn't live in a vacuum; they inherited the beliefs, prejudices, and assumptions of their generation. Indeed, who knows but what my descendants, living the Law of Consecration, may think of me, a participant in--and a fan of--capitalism?

I'm not excusing anyone, of course, or condemning. It's just something to think about.

-J.