Today would have been Elvis' 76th birthday -- long live The King! I always try to do something to mark this day and August 16. This year we're going to do something new and go to Chuy's Mexican Restaurant.
Known for their touch of Elvis throughout the restaurant, they are having an all-day celebration, and anyone who comes dressed as Elvis or Priscilla gets a free meal. (That would be Nate).
In starting this day, I did a search to see just how many times I wrote about Elvis this year alone. Let's just say it comes up as a key theme. Here's a collection of some of these posts. (Unfortunately this doesn't have the story that I wrote for Southern Living about "must-sees" of Elvis history between Memphis and Tupelo. Have to get a copy of that to share ... )
How did Elvis change my life again this year?
Last summer I met a very special friend in Elvis, my Aussie pal Mandy. I knew we'd be great friends when, at running camp, she told me that she came to the States with the dream of riding up to Graceland on a Harley. Yes!
Today she celebrates her "Hen's Night" (what we call a bachelorette party) with peanut butter and banana sandwiches in Australia. Cheers, Mandy!
I love how Elvis continues to influence so many people and bring people together. So, for his birthday, let me know: how does Elvis continue to rock your world?
Of my 34 years, I've spent 18 of them, half a life, interviewing people for a living. (OK, I spent more time at USC writing about moody postmodern Irish poets, but I spent plenty of time in the summers cutting my teeth as a newspaper intern, so that counts!)
But today I did one of the most, if the not most important interview of my life -- interviewing Dad for the StoryCorps Project.
For those not familiar with StoryCorps, it's a non-profit that travels the country and offers people the opportunity to quite simply tell their stories. In short, you bring a partner and ask anything of him or her in the span of 45 minutes while sitting in their tricked out Airstream (more about this in a moment). Participants are then given a CD and their stories are archived in the Library of Congress, with some of the best being played on NPR.
Their motto: "Every Voice Counts."
***
I've been a big fan of their NPR broadcasts for years, and was excited when StoryCorps announced a visit to Birmingham. So, when tickets went on sale, I was sitting by my computer, nervously hitting the refresh button to get a spot. (It's a good thing that I did, since all the spots were taken within a few minutes.)
I didn't think twice about who I would interview. My Dad is such a great storyteller, and despite the tales he's told me and shared on his blog, we'd never sit down and done a formal interview, never mind a recorded one. He seemed a little trepedatious, but I promised that I wouldn't throw him any crazy curve balls.
Preparing the list of questions was tough -- there were so many subjects I wanted to cover. Going over that list was like a flashback of our family's life, and more than a few tears welled up when I got to some of the more difficult questions.
Against the advice of some, I actually shared the list with him. I get why in general it's not good to do this (and as a journalist I rarely share). But I asked Dad if he would feel more comfortable getting a general outline and he said yes, so I respected his wishes. (It worked out well for us, but I also understand not wanting to compromise the spontaneity too -- everyone has to decided on the best strategy for theme.)
***
We arrived a few minutes early to the shiny silver Airstream parked outside the Birmingham Civil Rights Museum and were greeted with warm welcomes by a young woman who would help facilitate our discussion. The first step was filling out paperwork. (On a side note, I thought it was interesting that they listed "transgender" as a category -- right on. Not sure about the difference between "gay" and "queer" -- meant to ask aout that.)
I was getting really nervous at this point, mostly because I wanted to get the interview right -- and because I'd never interviewed my Dad before. Before we got started, asked him how he felt:
Before we knew it, our host was ushering us into the Airstream, which felt a bit like hallowed ground. The Airstream! We were lead to its studio, which takes about half of the space (the other half has a small space with a desk and seating). She closed the door and was great at explaining what would happen.
Dad and I sat face to face in a booth similar to that of a restaurant. In fact, she stressed several times to think of our talk as a conversation that would take place at a kitchen table, which is always good advice. She advised me to just use the question list as a guide and to feel free to go wherever the story took us.
We were asked to turn off our cell phones and advised that any noise, including the shuffling of papers, would be recorded. (She even took away my beloved pen cap -- they know what they are doing!) We were also given small cups in which to pour our drinking water. Shhh...
She explained that she would help us keep time by giving simple signals when we were reaching 10, 5 and one minute points. I also put my father's watch on the table to help me gauge time. And we were off ...
(Note: both of these images were taken afterwords.)
The conversation flowed effortlessly. We talked about questions I'd prepared -- about how a boy who grew up in New York ended up in Alabama, about his time at Woodstock, about the evolution of technology and its influence on his life, and advice on how he did such a great job of raising three kids (ahem).
But we also talked about things I hadn't planned for, like the state of his religious beliefs (I seriously didn't know I would ask about this) and the time he could have gotten a full ride to Harvard (wo.)
There were many other things we shared too, which were recorded on a CD and handed to us right after we finished. Some of them are a bit private to talk about now, but we might share later. And heck, you can look it up in the LIbrary of Congress to get the real skinny.
***
Why did I think it would be so difficult to interview Dad? Maybe, in addition to admiring him so much and always wanting to make him proud, it's because I knew that long after we're gone, great-great-great Shaws and Streets could listen to the recording and learn about this great person's history -- and our family's history. That's pretty serious stuff.
At the end we were both pretty relaxed, and posed for photos that they take to go along with the recording. We listened to the CD in the car before he dropped me off, and the audio was remarkably clear.
I'm eager to hear about the experiences of others who participate in Birmingham (and elsewhere). Thankful to have been given this opportunity.
And wanting to record more stories of my family, with a reminder that sometimes the best stories are right in front of you.
Birmingham is incredibly lucky to have many talented food writers, bloggers, photographers and stylists who write about and make food look beautiful. (I'm lucky enough to work with some of them.)
Thanks so some of them (especially the multi-talented Shaun Chavis), the Magic City is home to a new food blogging conference, Food Blog South. The conference, which will be held January 22, is drawing national attention.
Organizers have assembled an amazing roster of talent, including New York Times writer Kim Severson, cookbook author Virginia Willis, and blogger (and author) extraordinaire, Christy Jordan.
I'm thrilled to be moderating a panel about the safety of Gulf Coast seafood after the oil spill. I'll have more to come about panelists (they are excellent).
In the meantime, I'm gathering questions. What do you want to know about the safety of fish and shellfish now? Are you cautious when buying seafood at the grocery store or ordering from restaurants? Are you asking where your food comes from?
Please let me know, and I'll take these questions with me to the panel.
Writing from the beautiful Battle House in Mobile, Alabama, where I am transfixed by a 600-lb homage to a Moon Pie outside my hotel window. It's dropping in T-minus 14 hours, and I'm here to witness it for the magazine. (Here's an SL blog post about the Moon Pie madness sweeping the city.)
Just as exciting, we're riding in the New Year's Eve Parade. On a float.
Since I haven't been in a parade in about 28 years (during which I rode in Clearwater's Fun N Sun parade in Officer Friendly's Car for winning the safety slogan contest thank you very much) I'm not entirely sure what to wear.
But since this parade celebrates the beginning of Carnival season, I am thinking these will be our outfits:
Yes, that's Nate's Elvis cosutme. And what New Year's Eve would be complete without gold sequins?
Throw in some masks ...
And Moon Pies:
So long, 2010. May 2011 bring everyone their version of huge Moon Pies and gold shoes.
Everyone has all gone home, except for Ryan, who decided not to return to the puddle of snow that is NYC. So tonight it's me and two CDs full of photos from Christmas that Dad burned for us. There are some really great ones in there, like these:
Nate playing with this super cool puppet from his Uncle Jack.
And him discovering the big boy bike under the bookcase:
Then, later, taking it for a spin during an unprecedented White Christmas in Birmingham.
Plus catching snowflakes with Grandma and Grandpa, which was equally fun.
Dad is so good about saving all these photos and burning them for us, as well as bringing up prints (he's a popular guy at Sam's photo processing lab). This year as a gift he even gave us all thumb drives with all the photos of Christmases throught the years (and DVDs of all the Flip movies we recorded - a huge project).
I love all the photos and the stories behind them. Right now, though, I'm trying to figure out what's the best way to share my personal stories. Tweet a photo? Write a blog post? What kind of blog post?
Here's a snippet of one -- Dad reading "'Twas The Night Before Christmas' on his iPad" on Christmas Eve?
And the goofy hat that Mom got for Ryan ("to stay warm!") that we all passed around and tried on:
Even Gatsby.
Then there was Nate ringing the bell for everyone to come sing "Happy Birthday" to the Baby Jesus.
And more Gatsby.
Soon it's going to be a new year. I'm launching a new website and am wondering ... what's the next chapter of this story? How will I share it?
What do pepole want to read about? Pugs with furry hats? How do they want to read it? I want to know. And in the meantime, I'm just going to put one letter in front of the next.
We've received two days of snow in Birmingham, the first "White Christmas" in Birmingham's history. (Though apparently the Weather Service wouldn't call it an official one, since there wasn't enough to measure at the airport. Tell that to Nate!)
I've been having fun playing around with filters on photos using the Instagram app.
More photos and stories to come later but for now ... let it snow.
People sometimes assume that just because I write for a magazine known for its beautiful home ideas that I automatically have a perfect Southern home. Wrong.
I don't write about interiors. I do sit next to the homes section, so I get to see all that amazing fabric and furniture and hear about what my colleagues are planning. (This includes the side benefit of cupcake tasting, but I digress.)
So, contrary to popular belief, when it's time for me to work on my house I don't just wiggle my nose and have interior decorators at my disposal (though I did get that for my garden). We've been in our house for nearly five years, and it's taken me that long to figure out my aesthetic (which is really more loft dweller than suburban house), change my mind, and have the planets line up to be able to do what I'm about to do:
Have our foyer painted.
The background: our house is two stories, with the first floor open from room to room. Something nice for being able to watch a 4 yr old while cooking/paying bills/working entertaining, but difficult when choosing colors. The foyer unifies all the rooms on the first and second floors. Plus it's really tall, which means that painting it involves scaffolding and expertise far beyond our DIY reach. (I like my bone structure.)
On home improvement shows they always say paint is the cheapest way to change a room, but this is not one of those rooms and that is not always true (especially when you take into account those of us who aren't great painters and change our minds before the paint dries).
So I set out to find the perfect color. No rookie to the paint process (second house, and have done lots of other rooms) I thought finding the right gray would be easy. Wrong. I went to Sherwin Williams. Benjamin Moore. Restoration Hardware. To the Interwebs and blogs and friends. What was their "must-have" paint?
They shared.
And I came up with this (which is not true to color because my flash was acting funky):
And this:
The cans were lined up side by side. (And at $5 and $7.50, it's not a cheap endeavor.) A friend slid me her "recipe" for a no-fail color. I watched the samples turn various shades of blue, green, purple, and brown in the early morning and then evening light.
Forgive me for going into Carrie Bradshaw territory here, but why do we obsess over paint colors? Yeah, I know it's just paint and it can be changed. Perhaps it has something to do with our attempt to gain control, to achieve an effect based on picking up "Lemongrass" or "Uncertain Gray."
I'd like to say that in my case it's just about covering the knicks in the walls, and for creating a uniform palette of greys and browns upon which to hang the art and photos that tell our story. But if that was the case, why would I spend this much time lingering over paint chips and cleaning brushes in the sink?
What color is my parachute?
Stay tuned. Hopefully it works. If so, I'll share tips. If not, I'll be back at the paint store, saying, "can you match this???"
Yesterday we spent another fantastic day at the McWane Center. Out of all of our many visits (we've been members since Nate was a toddler), this was one of the most meaningful.
We went on my parents' 39th anniversary -- Nate, Mom and Dad, and me. (Shane was at home working or he would have been there too.) We'd been wanting to see the new model train exhibit, and when I mentioned that we'd be going this weekend, Nate got really excited. He especially wanted to see the sharkes in the touch tank exhibit:
Seriously, I never thought I would see my mom stick her fingers in water to touch a shark. But she did, talking the ear off the kind and knowledgeable young volunteer who answered all her questions.
As usual, Nate sprinted from exhibit to exhibit, eager to try everything and learn about the science behind each item of interest. We've been taking him long before he could walk and talk, introducing him to the textures and sounds, complete with his chemist dad explaining everything patiently. (But that's how we do in our family -- science is always around us and no questions go unanswered.)
Grandma and Grandpa got in on the act -- Grandma was particularly fond of a bird exhibit that taught us about the local tweeters (and I don't mean social media experts). Grandpa and Nate played an interactive video game that had them using their whoe bodies for drums. And Nate and I enjoyed a friendly game of virtual soccer:
We LOVED visiting the new model train exhibit -- a perfect start to the holiday season. Nate adored watching the trains go round and round (actually, he ran after them).
It was there, while he was enraptured by the trains, that I had a chance to speak with McWane CEO Tim Ritchie. I'd noticed that Tim was greeting guests at the ticket counter, dressed in the same uniform all the other McWane employees donned too. (Points there.) I thanked him for the great work he and his staff were doing and asked him about the year-end letter that we'd received.
He confirmed what I knew: McWane's funding has been dramatically reduced this year, and they've had to dramatically cut their budget. When I asked how they were able to continue to offer high-level educational programming, he didn't miss a beat in saying that it was thanks to many community partners, like the Birmingham Model Railroad Club, who are making the train exhibit possible.
Despite the challenging financial circumstances, Tim, his staff, and the volunteers and many community partners have great things in store to close out this year and kick of 2011. We talked a bit about what's in store. Eager to learn more and share more.
Most importantly, I encourage all of our friends in Birmingham to support the McWane Center:
Check out their soon-to-come "Winter Wonderland" Exhibit, complete with snow and ice skating, starting November 26
We had so much fun reading everyone's suggestions. But as soon as we got home we realized that one name was obvious: Gatsby.
It's so good to hear his paws tick, tick, tick on our hardwoods. He takes a running leap and jumps right into your lap, with mucho pug kisses and snorts. He runs around with Lola and has curled up with her on the carpet. He's his own pug, but it's uncanny how much he reminds us of F. Scott.
So it's only fitting that we pay tribute. The Great, Great, Gatsy. From the book:
"He smiled understandingly-much more than understandingly. It was one of those rare smiles with a quality of eternal reassurance in it, that you may come across four or five times in life. It faced--or seemed to face--the whole external world for an instant, and then concentrated on you with an irresistible prejudice in your favor. It understood you just as far as you wanted to be understood, believed in you as you would like to believe in yourself." - F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby, Ch. 3
As I write this, Lolita and Gatsby are sitting regally on the couch, one on each end, matching furry bookends. (Remind me again why I got a brown velvet couch? To accentuate the fawn pug hair?)
Here we are on our first walk in the neighborhood yesterday. Thanks for all the suggestions. Snorts!
It's been an adrenaline filled afternoon and evening as we've gotten our yet-to-be named pug back to the house. Thanks to everyone who has suggested names. (There is a front runner, but we're going to wait till we decide on it for sure before revealing.)
Pug loved riding home in my Dad's Lexus, and was amazingly at home:
a)in Nate's car seat and
b)in my lap.
He looked at all the fall colors whizzing by and was calm, except for the few moments where he seemed to realize what was going on and then licked my face.
Since getting home, he's been checking out the lay of the land. It's been so fun watching him realize that he has the run of a whole house and backyard. Something he sure deserves.
There have been some "accidents" - few stray poops here and there. It happens.
Right now he's curled up beside my chair, cooling off on our hardwoods and watching DirectTV. Yeah, not too shabby. He and Lola seem to be getting along well so far, although she's currently perched atop her velvet sofa looking a little skeptical. In time.
Much more to come. In the meantime, a video from the handoff at the shelter, when we realized that pug is quite the ham for the camera. Yeah, that will come in handy in this family ...
Dad already created a collage from our first few hours -- check it out below. Pugarazzi.
Garage Sale America The companion website to Bruce Littlefield's brilliant book about the magic of garage sales.
Bureau of Communication Wacky pre-worded communcations for every occasion, including "Happy Divorce" and "Grievance Letter" with Ad-Lib type room for your own special personalizations.
Jancee Dunn Blog Pop culture/rock critic wrote a great memoir about being a writer for "Rolling Stone" and VJ for MTV. Most importantly, she hits the 70s and 80s right on the head, particularly with her descriptions of JcPenny's, where her father spent his career. Her blog has great photos from 70s Penny's catalogs, as well as links to her essays, etc.
Disco Museum Brilliant. Check out the entry on Paul Jabara, a fairly unknown singer songwriter who wrote for Donna Summer and more. He was also the person who created the red ribbon to bring awareness to HIV.
Roadside Architecture The author spends much of her time traveling across the U.S. taking photos of giant faux food displays, neon signs, fairytale villages ala "Rock City," old diners and malls and pet cemetaries. Nothing short of genius and addictive.
Bad Fads After buying a squishy porcupine type toy for Shane and I -- I mean Nate and I -- to play with, I remembered the wonderful Koosh Ball of the late 80s. Shane didn't remember this, so I Googled the term and came up with this great page -- the Museum of Bad Fads. Excited to see that there is a reference to Sea Monkeys, my personal favorite. Though they are not a "fad" -- they are a lifestyle!
Dead Malls The guys that run this website travel the country documenting malls of bygone times. I love it!
Florida's psychic to the stars Gary Spivey has an amazing silver afro and a gift for seeing the future. Of course he's from my homeland of the greater Tampa Bay Area, Florida.
Graham Nelson Minnesota baby extraordinaire and son of Alisa!
Nat Reads Natalie writes about books, movies, and life in Birmingham.
Nikko's Blog Nikko is an American ex-pat living in Madrid. I met her through Cliff.
Hugh's News Blog of an exceptionally talented Dad, grandpa and Yankees fan. In-depth commentary on said Yankees, grandson and state of the world in general.
Pugs
http://www.nalldaniels.com/ This is the homepage for our vet. Lola's picture has been known to make an appearance here.
Lolita Pearl Lola enjoys prancing about, provoking her brother and being a vixen pug.
F. Scott Fitzpug F. Scott enjoys napping, pooping and being the cutest male pug in West Central Alabama.
Alabama Pug Rescue Wonderful organization that cares for AL pugs in need.
Moms Rising This site advocates for moms to decide how they want to raise their kids -- whether it be to work outside the home or to be a SAHM. Most of all, it's about fair, equitable conditions in which one becomes a mom and the chance to raise healthy kids.
Mojo Mom A site that helps moms reflect on the fact that they are actually people, not just baby-making beings.