A Very Patton Christmas

From one artist to another -MamaSue gave Lil some art supplies.

Susan

This is for my aunt. She's a cool lady. After I hung out with her this afternoon, The Peach 97.7 was playing this on the way home as I drove through Concord. I had never heard it before. It's got a really creepy part in the middle.



And on that note, here's a song I once sang to her early in the morning when I was really little. I found a guitar that was stashed in a closet and banged on it while singing, "Wake up little Susie," over and over and over. My nickname at that point in time was, "Aggravation." Well, it still is I think. Ha.

Happy Birthday to My Love!!

Today is my love's birthday. He is my heart, my life. Happy Birthday, Judge.



And here's a little poem I wrote for him to celebrate the occasion. I'm a bit proud that the shape of the poem is supposed to be (Middle) Tennessee sitting atop Alabama. I thought that was fun.

How
for Judge on his 37th birthday.

Every morning I wake
and wonder how you have appeared there,
sleeping lustily in sighing manly breaths,
and have you just arrived to show me
what art and virtue and revolution
look like in human form?

It is true I asked for you - not unlike
some situational romantic notion
usually played out onscreen -
after near-misses and heartbreak,
you showed up in cowboy boots
and an aggrandized Georgia accent.
How is it possible I met you twice?
We fumbled our first shot and walked away,
both returning to another and forgetting
the chance encounter in Hillsboro Village.
How I had sought a man who could define
heavy-laden with the Song of the South
in his veins; one who could bring me a family
in the chorus of his own hymn, solidly facing
the future without forgiving his past. Thank you
for returning for me. For allowing me to break
with you, to build with you, to better with you.
Thank you for bringing music to my house
and giving me seeds
with which to garden.
Thank you for being
my fractured fairy tale.

- RPJ

Pictures of Judge

Taylor's mother has been digitizing her old slides from his childhood and there are some which are too precious not to share. Here is one of his favorites:

He is in the stroller with his grandmother at left, his uncle and mother behind him and his grandfather and brother to the back right.

On the swingset. I think this one looks like Lillian. I don't know what features it is, but I can see it, in his face.

Alabama the Beautiful

My sweet home place, my heart of the South, the little proud and furious and misunderstood state Alabama - I am sorry.

Seeing you left in pieces from Tuscaloosa to Concord to Pleasant Grove to Cullman is unbelievable. The people lost and the matchstick houses are haunting me when I close my eyes. We rode out the storm underground, humidly praying we would be spared the brunt of Mother Nature's force, and our wish came true. We returned to our fifth floor windows to find a clear sky mocking us, slyly evading the horrible truth: our city, our state was busted.

I was upset and moved to tears at my adopted city, Nashville, when it went through the tragedy of last year's flood. I am in shock at it now happening in my home state - after returning from being away so long - I am in awe of the terror inspired by a mile-wide demon who killed and upended lives, and I haven't been able to cry. I watch footage with mouth agape, hear stories of family friends who were killed, see landmarks I know that are nevermore. I was told of a couple who had a 4 or 5-day old child they had just brought home and the tornado hit, ending their happy family. The mother died - leaving this baby unable to ever know her - only to have those first few days - and it finally made me weep. The reality of all of it sunk in: We were all so close to his tragedy, and it could have chosen any one of us.

It skirted my building by a mile or two. It missed my family in Concord by less than that. I feel so lucky, but I feel silly to feel lucky. I am brokenhearted. I am sad for all those who are affected. I am helpless.

For whatever reason, I feel stupid to be writing about this, but I don't know what else to do. I can't stop watching, wishing it would somehow get better instead of worse. I have hugged and hugged my baby girl and given thanks for the bright shining day we had today. I sit in my house with power, with all my things, with all my family, with uncontaminated water and with a roof intact. We are okay. Still, it hurts. It aches because we have been torn apart as a community and as a state.

All those affected by this grand and grotesque event, you are in my thoughts. You are all in my prayers.

I love you, Alabama.

Hard Days

It's been a hard week. I lost my maternal grandfather and it truly breaks my heart. Even when people are older and frail it doesn't prepare you for death, for knowing they won't be there when you call or write them letters.

Now both of my grandmothers are alone and that really gets me. My grandfathers represented Alabama to me and the different aspects of it - one a freewheeling Church of Christ gospel royalty hobo entrepreneur, the other a sly-joking Navy man full of rivers, dirt, and hard work - both had amazing accents harking of Fayette and Walker counties. Both left legacies of grandiose stories and a trail of descendants who love them.

Oh, what? You want me to be cute?

 Dadow's funeral was gothic. It was held in the Helena City Cemetery and we all sang Trust and Obey and the voices carried over Joe Tucker lake on the breeze. It was haunting on such a sunny day. Lillian was my levity. She wore seersucker and watched the proceedings with Dadow's blue eyes and MamaSue's cheeks. She quietly sat in Judge's lap and I hugged and hugged her afterwards for being so good, and for being so young and holy.

"Infants and old folks belong to God," Judge said. Yes they do.

Lil says hi.

Miss you Oliver Cornelius Dobbs, Jr. You too, Charles Verner Patton. You are both icons to me.

Beth and Chance's Wedding

My father and Lillian

Mom and Lil

Lil wasn't into this picture.

It's a done deal - they're married!

The happy couple

I loved the doves

Coal Miner's Wedding

Look at this image. It's lovely. Go see more - Joan Maffei on Flickr.

I am attending my cousin's wedding today. He's a coal miner and a bear of a man. He's also a complete sweetheart. I love that I live in town now and can be present for functions such as these.

Don't you wish people still used bouquets like these? ---

(Compliments of Reckless Shots on Flickr) Aren't they romantic? Very verdant and wild and they look so freshly picked. Chance (my cousin) works with my father, who is also a coal miner. I see images of coal miners on television on the new show "Coal" and it gives me the willies. Even though the mine they both work in is bigger and better regulated than the one they feature on the show, I worry about them being underground. I know people who have died underground after just the smallest mistake, and I pray each day that Dad comes back home safely. Luckily, after working there for decades, my father has put in for a transfer, ABOVE GROUND. He would run machines up top of the mine and would see the sunshine during the day. We're still waiting for it to be confirmed, but I told ole Dad that if he gets the job, I'm throwing him a party.

I am so thankful for my father. He has always been willing to do anything for our family, and I love him more than I can even say.

Eleanor Estelle

Congrats to my cousin Heather who just gave birth on the 28th to a lovely new baby. She is calling her Eleanor Estelle, and "Ella" is pictured here with Heather and her two daughters Alaina and Olivia.

That now completes the Dobbs family one-baby-a-month trifecta. Jacie, Heather and I all gave birth within one month of each other. I never put a picture of Jacie's son up here, so here is Bennett Alexander with Lillian:

Dear Elizabeth Taylor,

Dear "Elizabeth Taylor,"

My, what a powerful being you are at the size of a cantaloupe! Do you know you make your mother feel like Pangaea breaking apart? I creak, I groan, I feel bones restructuring themselves. I am the personification of bodily plate tectonics. I am like the toys I played with in the 80s; I am Transformer. How such a little girl can make a tailbone hurt, I'll never understand. I can't sit comfortably for longer than five minutes.

Your kicks are getting stronger. I can't wait for the moment they get more forceful and I can share the physical sensation with Judge. He's been there when it happens, but can't quite sense it yet. He eagerly waits with hand on my belly to no avail. Soon though, and according to my mother, soon you'll be giving me a swift kick to the ribs. I even look forward to that, strange as it sounds.

I've never understood what it meant to be pregnant until now, for obvious reasons. I can't articulate what a miracle you truly are, even if it is a miracle that happens every day to all sorts of people. You are the miracle happening to me - shifting around inside me in the safety of your swimming pool, breathing through those embryonic gills, breaking apart my pelvic bones to settle snugly into a cozier hollow - it may be an everyday occurrence, but I marvel in every feat of your growth. I applaud those milestones as my stomach gets larger and larger, and I tear up when I think of finally meeting you one day.

Thanks for sticking around. Thanks for deciding to be the joy we wait for in blissful expectation. Thanks for being a Joiner.

Love,

Cabbage

Dear "Elizabeth Taylor,"

Dear "Elizabeth Taylor,"

I hope that it's okay that I'm already blaming you for things, but I believe that you are responsible for how much I ate tonight. Yes, the soup was great, as well as the hamburger, yet I feel the milkshake was a bit too much. You should have stopped there.

I believe you are in league with your father. How do you two communicate these subversive exchanges? Telepathy? Or it is just your similar genes which make you act as his liaison?

Perhaps we can just stay on board with the salad and small lunch tomorrow. Let's get in sync with this, okay?

Love you,

Cabbage

P.S. I believe you are "sitting" on my bladder. If you shifted a bit to the left, or right - whichever direction - I would be eternally grateful. Thanks.

P.P.S. Those little quickening flutters and small jabs to my abdomen are sooooo cute. I mean, I know in the future they're going to be Bruce Lee kicks to the ribcage, but right now I am in love with your dancing and how it feels from the inside out. Keep it up. It gets me through my day.

P.P.P.S. I really, really, really love you.

I'm Making a Book for You, Elizabeth Taylor

One of my recent projects is a book for the unborn girlie Joiner we're welcoming into the world in January. I now know what it's like to be a silly pregnant lady and talk about nothing other than babies - it's just a thing. And now I'm a part of that problem. Haha! Anyhow, I'm making a photo album/keepsake/collage book for our little girl to have that details the pregnancy and her first couple years, and since I'm such a fan of verse, I'm collecting poems to showcase within the book. Here's a beautiful one by Sylvia Plath about being pregnant. I think that it may be the first poem I use within the album.



You’re

Clownlike, happiest on your hands,
Feet to the stars, and mook-skulled,
Gilled like a fish. A common-sense
Thumbs-down on the dodo’s mode.
Wrapped up in yourself like a spool,
Trawling your dark as owls do.
Mute as a turnip from the Fourth
Of July to All Fools’ Day,
O high-riser, my little loaf.

Vague as fog and looked for like mail.
Farther off than Australia.
Bent-backed Atlas, our traveled prawn.
Snug as a bug and at home
Like a sprat in a pickle jug.
A creel of eels, all ripples.
Jumpy as a Mexican bean.
Right, like a well-done sum.
A clean slate, with your own face on.

-Sylvia Plath

Ruhama

When my paternal grandfather passed away this past year, we all went out to the family plot in Providence, AL to lay him to rest. I took pictures of a few older graves because I want to do some research on my family, and there was this one grave of an ancestor whom I have always heard of, but really wanted to find out some info on because her name was so odd. Her name was Ruhama Patton. She was a country lady from Providence around the Warrior River in Alabama and her name was RUHAMA. I had seen it once in the family bible, but just couldn't wrap my head around that name.

I decided to look it up and the meaning is even more interesting to me. It means, "one who received the feelings of mercy and pity," or "one who was spared." It comes from Hosea 1. Here's a link to a site I found about the meaning. But here is a YouTube clip of a song named, "Ruhama," and the comments gave me a little more info. It is evidently used as an Ethiopian female name and it is meant as a blessing, if you can trust the commenters.

I'm still doing my research. I love delving into my family's past and trying to figure out who they were. I think the Pattons were in the Walker County area as early as 1820 or so. Fun stuff. Anyone know anything about the name, "Ruhama?"

Things That I Love

You know the song, "These are a few of my favorite things..." Well, I am feeling thankful this morning, so I wanted to share. It feels good to make a list of things that you love. These are in no particular order.

• Lightning on a summer night.
  

• Literature. Really. I love it more than I should. If I could spend my days reading books and drinking tea, I would be the happiest woman on the planet.

• Watching my husband sleep. It's the most innocent he ever looks, for sure, but it erases all worry from his face and I can look at him like the child he once was. (Too sentimental? Sorry!)
  

• Being pregnant. I read a book recently called, "The Girlfriend's Guide to Pregnancy." Don't ever read it, or if you do, do it just to laugh at her idiocy. She says that no one enjoys being pregnant. She also says that no one can go through labor without pain medication. She's also a rich Playboy centerfold. (Not that I'm judging, but c'mon!) But my point is, I do enjoy being pregnant. Sure, the indigestion is terrible, the insomnia is a bit much, but wow, having your body go through such crazy changes and knowing that there's a little human (!) that you and your partner get to love as long and hard as you are alive - There's nothing like it. And I may not "glow" on the outside of my skin, but I feel a glow inside, and this is one of the greatest, if not THE greatest experience of my life. So, take that, Mrs. Iovine!

• Pregnancy pants. They may not be fashionable (I've never been a fashionista) but the maternity waisted pants are sublime. Thank God for elastic! It's like having the button on your jeans unbuttoned ALWAYS. Sigh.
  

• Cary Hudson's music. The lead singer of the band Blue Mountain recently came to Birmingham and we took Elsa to Rojo (a little restaurant) to see him. I hadn't seen him perform in almost ten years, but he was wonderful. His music just makes me feel good. Buy his new cd. (After you buy ours, of course!)

• Living in Downtown Birmingham. This city the third time around is really getting to me. Perhaps it's where I live now. We live in a swinging loft space downtown and I look at the skyline every day. I can walk down the street and get a Pete's Famous Hot Dog or go to the Alabama Theatre or go to Reed's Bookstore. It changes my perspective on everything. They say Birmingham has an inferiority complex, but I hope it stays that way because I don't want anyone finding out about this fabulous place and ruining it for the rest of us.

• My Family. The reason we moved back to Birmingham is because of the babe. We wanted to be close to our families (his is here and in Atlanta, mine are all here.) Being this close to them is wonderful. Really, Judge and I couldn't have done this move without my parents. They have bent over backwards to help us, get us moved, get us comfortable and settled, and they've never complained once. I am grateful everyday that I was born to such beautiful, caring, generous people, and I hope to even be a tenth of a great parent as they both are. Thanks family! Thanks to all of you!
  

Big News

Well, I've been holding out from talking about it, but I've had my first appointment and can't hold it in any longer.

I am pregnant.

I am so thrilled, I can't even express it - and after hearing the heartbeat today - well, it just solidifies what is really going on inside my body.

Judge and I are making a lot of changes, some that are necessary, some that are bittersweet, but it all feels right so I cannot complain. We've decided to move from our beloved home in Nashville to my hometown of Birmingham to be closer to family. Both Tay and I have family members there and it seems like the smartest thing to do with the impending babe.

We are keeping our wonderful band in Nashville, the Joiners, and will visit often. (We have a show on the 22nd of July at the 5 Spot with our friend Max's band, Tillman) These two towns are only 3 hours apart. It really is just a quick ride up the interstate, so we won't be strangers to Music City. We hate to leave all the beautiful people we've met over the years, but times are a' changing and we've decided it is best to relocate.

This is the big news I've been sitting on, and both Taylor and I are so excited. I just had to share!

Today is Mom's Birthday!

This is my mother. Today is her birthday.












She is wonderful. She has encouraged me to be a creative and willful person, although at times I think that bit her in the backside, and has always been the greatest caregiver any child could ask for.

She is a Pisces, and that makes her other-wordly and a dreamer, and she just seems to know things sometimes. Ghosts seek her out, for real. (That is what I claim, although she would slap my hand if she were here and say, "Now don't tell people that - they'll think I'm crazy." They really do appear a lot to her, and in strange situations. I dare someone to ask her about the UFOs in the pasture...heh heh.)

She loves to hike, make collages (like me!), do cartwheels until she gets dizzy, save strange obituaries, draw (she's quite good at woodland creatures and anything else to used to amaze a small child during a lengthy church service) and she is especially good at baking. Seriously. The woman can KILL a pie. Chocolate pie is the greatest. Also faves: Sour Cream Pound Cake, Haystacks, Death by Chocolate, Lemon Cake, etc. etc.

I wanted to dedicate my day to her: Happy Birthday, Momma P! You are a beautiful, talented free spirit that has continued to raise the bar for me on how a Mother should be. I appreciate each and every day that you gave me and appreciate you for showing me how to live them. Your gorgeous eyes and charming smile (and I would pinch your bottom if I could!) remind me of how one should cartwheel through life, Claybone. I adore you!

XOXO - Cabbage.

Happy Birthday!

Today is my Father's birthday. He works today; coal miners have the choice to get off on their birthdays (one of the random union rules) but he's going in because when you do work on your birthday, you get triple overtime. Yes, triple.

But even though I mention he's a coal miner, he's so much more. I bring up the mining because it still blows my mind. It makes me shiver thinking of him a mile under the earth's surface with dynamite and massive machines and coal. He's also a reader, a huge reader. He loves books and when I visit, we sit side by side on the couch and read together. He's also a self-taught woodworker. He made my bedroom suite and I love it - it's mission style and doesn't have a screw in it. I adore his attention to detail when he's creating something.

I am so lucky to have a father like I do. He's strong, caring, generous to a fault, and slyly funny. He has hands like a bear. He has permanent coal lines on his face that makes him look like he's wearing mascara. He knows how to comfort me when I cry.

Happy Birthday, Dad! I'm blessed to have you and love you very much. (Sorry for the blurry picture below, it is all I have on my computer!)

Kin: Thanksgiving

Just got these up - thought I'd share. Here are some images from TNFNR's Thanksgiving Jubilee in Helena, Alabama. I forgot to take pictures at MamaSue's house, so one leg of the visit didn't get documented, but here's what I did get:

These pictures are for Cindy

I am a lucky girl. I suppose one of these days I'm going to refer to myself as a woman, since I am a few months short of thirty now, but for now, "girl" will fit.

But I am lucky. I have an amazing family and I thrived as a young person in affection and support.

I live three hours away from them now, and sometimes I am overcome with homesickness, for the actual them, not internet and telephone them, but flesh and blood family.

Just to see my Mother laugh, especially when I provoke that laugh, to share the same with Cindy and Susan as we pick on my Dad, to hang with T and all of the grandparents, sitting on the sofa with Dad, reading, watching television -- that is what I miss.

The holidays are soon and I will travel to see them.

When I was a teenager, I remember being depressed when and my pals and I had plans but I couldn't go out. It would be a Friday night when everyone else would be on the town, and I felt so sad, in that teenager kind of way, because I felt I would miss out on something. Something would happen out there without me. I actually ached.

Now I feel that way about them. About all of them. Football Saturdays, thrift store visits, meals, holidays, everything. I ache with knowing I'm missing out.

I don't know where this came from, but I never post things like this. I thought I would. I thought I would send one big THANK YOU and I LOVE YOU out to them.

Roll Tide Roll

Paul "Bear" Bryant Monument at Elmwood Cemetery, Birmingham AL
Originally uploaded by Deep Fried Kudzu

So, it's that time.

It's that time when my family gathers in front of the television and watches college football, and it's so much fun.

I grew up thinking Bear Bryant was a God. Or at least one of the apostles. I was four when he died, but I remember that day vividly, and everyone in my household, I mean everyone, cried and fell into a deep, dark depression for weeks.

I love college football. And I love watching guys red and white run up and down the field. I even yell at the TV. No lie.

Sue me, I'm a redneck. But at least I have the pedigree - From Alabama, a real coal miner's daughter, and bad teeth.

It's ok, I wear it proudly. And if you think I don't, I'll just go hillbilly on you and beat you up. It's what we do.

I love being from Alabama, no matter what anyone says. It's the best place in the world. Seriously.

No, really.